In Wonder Man Yahya Abdul-Mateen II Perfectly Captures The Anxiety Of Excellence

Mere minutes into Wonder Man, I had to take a break from the series. Not because it wasn’t good — it’s great — but because I saw so much of myself in Simon Williams and his relentless anxiety, it was, well, making me anxious. Lately, it feels like conversations surrounding representation and have been flattened, and we decide if a piece of art is good only if we can see ourselves in it. I don’t think that’s true. And I think Wonder Man is a brilliant show, whether you’re a self-flagulating overthinker like Simon and me or not, but when I was watching it, I was struck by how real he felt, and how rarely we get to see anxious Black characters, especially Black men, onscreen. 

All eight episodes of Wonder Man drop on Disney+ today and in the Marvel series, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II stars as Simon, a struggling actor who just wants to be seen for his craft, not the anger-induced superpowers he’s desperately trying to hide and has no idea what to do with. You may think you’re getting an origin story for one of Marvel’s most underrated superheroes, but as its eight episodes unfold, Wonder Man quietly transforms into one of the most honest portrayals of anxiety I've seen in a superhero show, maybe in any show. Simon's overthinking, his paralysis in the face of opportunity, his fear that one misstep will cost him everything hit so close to home. Created by Destin Daniel Cretton (“Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings”) and Andrew Guest (who has written for “Community” and “Brooklyn Nine-Nine”), Wonder Man is a slow burn meditation on Hollywood, ambition, and who gets to be a hero. And after all these years of oversaturation accusations and critiques that superhero projects have nothing more to offer, this is the MCU at its best and most original.  

There's this scene early in the series where Simon shows up to set for a small role on American Horror Story. He's done his research, prepared a whole backstory, and workshopped different line deliveries. He’s in his head. When he starts suggesting tweaks to the scene, the director humors him at first, then grows frustrated, and finally, he gets fired on the spot. Watching Simon's face collapse as he realizes he's sabotaged himself yet again — that he tried so hard to be excellent that he forgot to just be — is what made me pause the episode. I had to sit with it for a minute because I've been that person, the one so terrified of mediocrity that I self sabotage, the one who shows up with five times the preparation and still feels like an imposter. But Simon isn’t shy or lacking confidence necessarily, he’s anxious because he wants to be the best. He’s anxious because he feels like he knows the character better than anyone, even the director. It’s bravado and fear warring with and wrapped up in each other, and it’s a dangerous combination. 

“Anxiety is kind of new to me too. I understand what it’s like,” Abdul Mateen II says, sitting across from me during the film’s junket in Los Angeles. “As an actor, a part of our job is to be able to identify the anxieties and to be able to use our tools to decrease it and then to work through it, to ‘tolerate our discomfort.’” 

And it is uncomfortable at times to watch Simon war with his own mind, struggling through who he knows he can be and who he is. Abdul-Mateen II brings so much depth and sensitivity to Simon's anxiety. This isn't the one-note brooding, mysterious kind of troubled hero we're used to seeing. Simon's anxiety is mundane, messy, and for Abdul-Mateen II, it was personal. 

“It was really gratifying, and sometimes scary at the same time, to show that vulnerability, to show that anxiety, to show what it looks like to just not be sure of myself at all but still have to proceed, and to have the camera be right here while I’m doing that,” He says, gesturing with his hand close to his face. “To be feeling something before a scene and to realize, ‘Oh, yeah that’s right, this is what Simon is feeling’. Oh, OK so I’m right at home so just share it. I’m just there to share it.”

What Abdul-Mateen II shares is revelatory. It’s one of the strongest performances the MCU has ever seen. And at times when the script doesn’t give us much about Simon’s interior, Abdul-Mateen II fills in the rest of the story with his face. Simon’s anxiety shows up in him standing outside an audition rehearsing the same line forty-seven different ways, or calling his ex-girlfriend to apologize for apologizing too much, or him lying awake at 3 a.m. mentally cataloging every interaction he had that day, searching for where he went wrong. There's a scene where Simon practices his audition in front of a bathroom mirror, and you can see him cycling through emotions — confidence, doubt, overcompensation, resignation — in the span of thirty seconds. It's exhausting and exhilarating to watch Abdul-Mateen II work. It's also deeply, painfully relatable. 

Wonder Man connects Simon's anxiety to his Blackness without making it the sole defining factor. Simon doesn't just want to be a good actor; he wants to prove he belongs in spaces that weren't built for him. There's this unspoken weight he carries, this understanding that his margin for error is razor-thin. One mistake and he's not just Simon Williams who messed up; he's a confirmation of every stereotype and every lowered expectation. It's the burden of representation that so many Black creatives carry, the exhausting math of needing to be twice as excellent to be considered half as good. It’s such a prevailing understanding, it’s become a cliché. And so the show doesn't need to spell this out in obvious dialogue, which I appreciate. Instead, it lives in Abdul-Mateen's performance, the way Simon's shoulders tense when he walks into a dinner full of white executives (save for his agent Janelle, played pitch perfectly by X Mayo) trying to push him to capitalize on his Wonder Man casting, the way he code-switches without even realizing he's doing it, the way he shrinks around his overachieving brother and how the legacy of his late father is simmering beneath every decision Simon makes. 

The genius of the series is pairing Simon with Sir Ben Kingsley's Trevor Slattery, a washed-up actor (also known as The Mandarin, making his fourth MCU appearance) who's decided that "good enough" is, in fact, good enough. Trevor is delightfully shameless in his mediocrity. He shows up to auditions unprepared and somehow charms his way through. He forgets his lines and improvises. He lives in the moment because he's already survived the worst his career can throw at him. He’s also acting as a double agent, spying on Simon for the government’s Department of Damage Control. Agent Cleary (Succession's Arian Moayed) is his point person at the bureau tasked with bringing in “enhanced” individuals. This part of the script is its weakest, because it’s never really clear why Simon is a target when he’s hiding his powers and can barely control them, but the beauty of Wonder Man is that it doesn’t care much about the MCU politics of it all. This is a small story an unlikely friendship forged between two actors who approach life differently – one living like he’s got nothing to lose (Trevor) and the other carefully clinging to things he doesn’t have yet. 

Their dynamic is hilarious. Simon's anxious perfectionism is constantly butting up against Trevor's chaotic "we'll figure it out" energy and it's also the emotional heart of the show. Trevor becomes the person who gives Simon permission to be imperfect, to make mistakes, to take up space without apology. Their friendship is a quiet rebellion. And when you juxtapose the purity of Simon and Trevor’s bond with what goes on between Byron Bowers’ DeMarr “Doorman” Davis and Josh Gad (playing the asshole version of himself) in Episode 4 (a truly revolutionary, gorgeous, gutting episode), it’s even more evident how special their friendship is. 

My favorite scene of the series comes when Simon and Trevor are at the house of the famed eccentric director or Wonder Man (the movie within the show) participating in a day-long audition. When put on the spot to improvise a monologue, Simon cracks and resorts to reciting a scene from Pretty Woman. Yes, that Pretty Woman. Abdul Mateen II says he had fun channeling his inner Julia Roberts, but aside from the comedy of that scene, it’s more proof of Simon’s debilitating anxiety. 

“That just shows how much of a wreck Simon is. Simon is a control freak. He has a photographic memory so he remembers every line from every movie he’s ever seen. He has it in his head. That was a lot of fun. He’s trying his best,” Abdul Mateen II says with a laugh. 

I keep thinking about what Abdul-Mateen said in a recent interview with Esquire, how Simon "lives his life always trying to avoid the next worst thing" and that "it's paralyzing." That line stayed with me because it perfectly describes what so many of us are navigating, this constant vigilance, this bracing for impact, this belief that if we just work hard enough, prepare thoroughly enough, excel sufficiently enough, we can somehow protect ourselves from the unfairness we know is coming. But Simon's journey in Wonder Man is learning that excellence isn't armor. Sometimes it's the opposite. Sometimes our desperate need to be exceptional keeps us from actually living, from taking risks, from being human. The show doesn't offer easy answers (spoiler: Simon doesn't suddenly stop being anxious by the finale) but it does give him permission to be a work in progress. To be, dare I say it, mediocre sometimes. And that feels radical.

Wonder Man is technically a superhero show, but it's really about what happens when you realize that the superpowers you've been hiding might be less scary than the ordinary vulnerabilities you refuse to show. The Marvel series is a surprisingly tender meditation on perfectionism, performance, and the paralyzing fear of not being enough. It's about the courage it takes to just show up as yourself — flawed, uncertain, still figuring it out — in a world that demands perfection from people who look like you. Abdul-Mateen's performance is quietly devastating in its specificity, and the series as a whole is a love letter to everyone who's ever felt like they're one mistake away from losing everything. It's a reminder that sometimes the most revolutionary thing we can do is give ourselves permission to just be fine, not exceptional, not extraordinary, just fine. And, honestly, that might be the superpower we need most.