Back in 2019, I saw Avengers: Endgame in a theatre in Canada, and one scene has stayed with me ever since. Thanos, sure he would win, said, “I am inevitable,” and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. Tony Stark then revealed the Infinity Stones in his hand, looked at Thanos, and said, “And I am Iron Man,” before snapping his own fingers. The whole theatre cheered. A few minutes later, that excitement turned to silence as Tony died. That shift from shared joy to shared grief stayed with me long after I left the theatre.
At that time, my son was just six. He recognised the superheroes, but did not know much about the wider Marvel universe. Seven years later, he is thirteen, and he told me Avengers: Endgame was coming back to cinemas in Bangladesh. He wanted to watch it. I thought I would need to explain some of the characters and their relationships, but I found that he already knew their stories and the emotional connections between them.
Yesterday, as I sat next to him in a Dhaka theatre, I realised Endgame was giving us something new: a shared experience. I brought memories of watching it in Canada before the pandemic changed the way we went to cinemas. He came to it as part of a generation that discovered Marvel through streaming, short clips, conversations, and watching the films out of order.
This is what makes Avengers: Endgame Encore more interesting than a typical re-release: it turns a familiar ending into a new shared experience. The film returned to Bangladesh on September 25 with about four minutes of new footage, including an extended ending and additional moments that connect Endgame to the upcoming Avengers: Doomsday. Now, Loki interrupts the peaceful ending of Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter. Bruce Banner is drawn into Doctor Doom’s story. The TVA faces a collapsing multiverse. Anthony Russo explained that the filmmakers go “one beat past” Steve and Peggy’s original ending, and “that’s where Doomsday is born.”
There is something clever, and maybe a little risky, about reopening an ending that once felt finished. Endgame worked in 2019 partly because it allowed things to end. Tony Stark died. Steve Rogers chose his own path. Natasha Romanoff gave her life. Now, Marvel is using those endings to begin a new story, which is why the re-release matters. Even the familiar sound of Tony Stark hammering metal is now associated with Doctor Doom making his mask. The past is becoming part of how stories are told for the future.
What surprised me in Dhaka was that a seven-year-old film was still getting significant screenings. The show I went to was not as crowded as Endgame was in 2019, but there was still a sizeable audience. That alone seemed significant. The film has been available to watch at home for years, and most viewers already know the major plot twists. Still, people were buying tickets and spending more than three hours in a cinema to watch it again, which showed how strongly the re-release still matters.
More interestingly, people still cheered at the same places. Captain America lifting Mjolnir is no longer a surprise. Neither are the portals nor Tony’s final snap. But the reactions came anyway. It reminded me of hearing an old song after many years. We do not only hear the song. We hear the memories attached to it. Films can work in the same way. A re-release allows us to revisit not only a story but also the time in our lives when that story first mattered.
Hollywood seems to understand this more and more. Avatar returned to theatres in 2022 ahead of Avatar: The Way of Water and grossed over $76 million worldwide during its re-release. In 2024, Sony brought all eight live-action Spider-Man films back to selected theatres for Spider-Mondays. That same year, Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace returned for its 25th anniversary, along with a preview of The Acolyte. Re-releases are becoming more than just anniversary events. They can serve as cinematic recaps that prepare audiences for the next chapter.
Streaming lets us watch a story whenever we want, but it cannot match the feeling of being in a theatre. On a big screen, the sound feels more powerful, the visuals reveal more detail, and the spectacle feels as large as it was intended to be. More importantly, strangers react together. That shared experience gives familiar scenes a new kind of life.
As I sat next to my thirteen-year-old son, I realised this is the real value of Endgame Encore. I was reliving an old memory. He was making a new one. Marvel may be getting audiences ready for Doomsday, but the film also lets one generation return to a world they love while another discovers it in its own way.
A theatrical re-release is not just about seeing an old film again. It can turn a familiar ending into a shared experience, reconnect us with our younger selves, and let us share that experience with a new generation in the same dark room.
The writer, Abu Shahed Emon, is a Filmmaker.
