SUPERMAN used to be enough. On the small screen of my childhood, there was George Reeves as the stolid man of steel. Decades later on the big screen, Christopher Reeve in the role stole our hearts–and no one has done it since. Besides their ironically similar names, Reeves and Reeve had something else in common–the faith of their onscreen creators to invest them with stature and trust them go it alone.
Now in the summer of my discontent–an overstimulated yet sensation-starved 2025– filmmaker James Gunn has cut this superhero down to comic book size and with it the drama and allure of the DC Universe’s archetypal Superhero. If I’d wanted a comic book or a computer game, I wouldn’t have gone to the movies. Presumably in an effort to hold our attention in an era of shrinking attention spans, Gunn has opted to marry the aesthetics and style of both by pumping up the whiz bang action and bringing in a raft of other DC Superheroes as well as a tangle of plot points. None of it looks or feels real.
The result? It numbed me out. This SUPERMAN has leapt to big box office receipts in a single weekend, but has all the heart and dramatic impact of a video game blown up on the big screen– tedious and sterile. Trailer HERE!
David Corenswet is a physical facsimile of SUPERMAN– tall, dark, and handsome–but whereas Reeves had lightness, charm, and a sweetly comic sensibility as Clark Kent, Corenswet seems lumbering and plastic. The rest of the DC family of Superheroes designed to ramp up the action, merely create noise and dilute the excitement. They appear out of nowhere to the surprise of no one in Metropolis, like a collection of well-worn toys everyone’s sick of seeing. With no introduction they suddenly appear: Green Lantern (Nathan Fillion), Hawkgirl (Isabela Merced), Mister Terrific (Edi Gthegi). They argue about whether to call themselves the JUSTICE LEAGUE. We don’t care and it’s not funny. Krypto the Superdog appears early on, a barking mad, mostly CGI’d little yapper who’s definitely off the chain. Eventually we encounter the shape-shifting Metamorpho (Anthony Carrigan) in a “pocket universe.”
Superman immediately finds himself in the crosshairs of too many 21st century crises orchestrated by his arch nemesis and now AI savvy LEX LUTHER (an excellent Nick Hoult) in command of an hilarious fleet of monkey hackers who reminded me of the flying primates mobilized by the Wicked Witch of the West. Nice touch. As Luther unleashes a Kaiju and The Hammer of Boravia to ensnare the Man of Steel, all the hot button issues of the day are brought to bear: immigration, isolationism, geopolitics, social media, journalism, conspiracy theories, deep fakery. Luther has weaponized them all to undermine Superman. Should Superman have meddled in the internal politics of Boravia even if lives were at stake? As a meta human, is he actually one of us and on our side? Or is he a sinister alien with a hidden fascist agenda to dominate rather than save the human race?
It’s up to Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan) to get the scoop on all when she isn’t bickering with Superman about journalistic ethics and who does the dishes. The thrill is gone. But don’t get me started on the rest of the female characters in 2025 who are either up to no good (The Engineer /Angela Spica) or don’t have more on their minds than snagging a man. Luther’s decorative and silly sidepiece Eve Teschmacher (Sara Sampaio) is still hung up on Jimmy Olsen (Skylar Gisondo) a guy she apparently cannot live without, though both he and Lex Luthor treat her like dirt. Another female newsroom staffer, Cat Grant (Mikaela Hoover), is given nothing to do but mutter a few disposable lines and hang around The Daily Planet– prominently displaying two of hers.
Ma and Pa Kent (Pruitt Taylor Vince and Neva Howell) appear as kind, worn down, hardscrabble folks, but don’t suggest the simple nobility and energy of a couple with a vision beyond Smallville, who raised their son in the heartland of America whose timeless values were majestically evinced by that first Superman movie. I’ll never forget some of the early scenes in the 1978 version, sweeping shots of golden fields waving in sun and stretching beyond the horizon as John Wiliams’ score swelled to infinite possibility. There is nothing beautiful or awe inspiring to look at here.
So by the time Superman makes his big speech about decency and what it is to be a human, it feels empty and tacked on. The film has spent itself on a cacophony of characters, plot points, non-stop action and tumult without having invested in the human drama of a super man who came here with a grass roots vision that transcends all the detritus of modern life. And that stream of superheroes who were part of the mayhem? They don’t even seem to share Superman’s moral universe. To them, killing a few humans as collateral damage in their exploits, seems to be no big deal. The film has in fact undermined the very things it purports to champion– humanity and heart.
I’ve heard some in MAGA world think this SUPERMAN is too woke, while I could barely stay awake. Having been bombarded by a desperate effort to hold my attention, I nodded off for a few minutes– then woke up to find I hadn’t missed much at all.
