‘SUPERMAN’ Makes CBMs Fun Again

It’s been a good long while since I’ve unequivocally enjoyed a comic book movie, but good readers, I’m pleased to report that Superman makes the genre fun again. It might just be the best comic book movie in years. The latest redux of the OG Man of Steel arrives as the inaugural entry in the new DCU, following the stutter-stepped saga of the DCEU and Henry Cavill’s brooding take on the character. It’s busy, cheesy, overstuffed — and I almost certainly will never watch it again (though that’s true of nearly every comic book movie these days, if not 90% of all movies) — but for a film tasked with both rebooting an iconic character and launching a new cinematic universe, James Gunn mostly pulls off the improbable. This movie flies.

The narrative structure is dense but thematically grounded to itself, anchored in the story of an alien who believes it’s his duty to serve Earth, even in a time when goodness and kindness are treated with suspicion. It’s a resonant message for our deeply cynical era, playing as both an immigration metaphor and a commentary on how global crises are spun to divide us. Superman, in this version, isn’t just saving the day. He’s doing it while being constantly second-guessed, surveilled, and vilified. Good itself is a suspect quality, ripe for critique.

Superman has been quietly living on Earth for 30 years as alter ego Clark Kent, but, at the onset of the film, has just sparked the ire of world governments and internet trolls alike after unilaterally intervening in an international conflict between warring nations Boravia and Jarhanpur. Enter Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult, all bald, twitchy, technocrat malice), who sees this as his big chance to bring the alien down to size. Luthor unleashes Ultraman, a mind-controlled metahuman weapon that Luthor puppeteers like a video game character, to deliver Supes his first real beatdown. It won’t be the last time our titular hero gets bruised, battered, or generally puckered by his enemies. He may be the Man of Steel, but this version of Kal-El is anything but invulnerable. Which already makes him a lot more interesting than some of his previous onscreen appearances.

Gunn wisely skips the Kryptonian crib notes. No Smallville flashbacks, no origin rehash. We dive straight into the action. After nearly 50 years of Superman content and two decades of nonstop superhero saturation, most of us know the drill: dying planet, Kansas farmers, red tights, alien savior. It’s refreshing not to wade through all that again. Some may complain that forgoing the usual setup makes the whole thing feel rushed, but honestly, it’s a mercy.

By the time we check in, Clark Kent is already working at the Daily Planet and dating Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan, really good here), to whom he’s already spilled the beans about his secret identity. All the standard setup is locked and loaded, freeing Gunn to focus on broader universe-building without just dangling Easter eggs for a dozen sequels (there are already five projects in various stages production for DCU Chapter One: Gods & Monsters). Crucially, it actually sets up the world without feeling like a two-hour trailer. These characters work well enough within this story rather than existing solely to tease whatever’s coming next. It’s a mostly complete experience, an enjoyable movie in and of itself, but it also plants real seeds for what’s to come, promising a weirder, livelier DCU that actually feels worth exploring.

Enter the “Justice Gang,” a corporatized crew of metahumans that includes Green Lantern (Guy Gardner, played with loudmouth flair and a terrible bowl cut by Nathan Fillion), Hawkgirl (Isabela Merced who yells, swings a mace, and is mostly undercooked), and the hyper-intelligent and not-so-subtly named Mr. Terrific (Edi Gathegi, easily the standout of the trio). They feel less like a cohesive team and more like cobbled-together franchise scaffolding there to explain that metahumans are not a foreign concept by the time we land in the DCU. But at least they are mostly entertaining scaffolding. The gang — at odds about what to call themselves — aren’t quite allied with Superman but they show up to lend a hand when he’s taking a particularly savage beating and the juxtaposition and interplay between the “accepted” metahumans and the “alien” Superman at the very least allows for some more diverse action set pieces, of which Gunn is able to stage many an impressive number.

But everything hinges on the guy in the cape, and David Corenswet delivers in spades. He’s got the square jaw and superpowered sincerity, embodying Superman’s idealism without veering into cornball territory. There’s something almost childlike in his moral clarity. He genuinely believes people are good, which, in this cynical landscape, practically makes him his own brand of punk rock. His chemistry with Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois Lane crackles with charm, even if she too is a bit underbaked when not tangled with Clark/Supes. Together, they sell the film’s wild thesis: that being wholly kind, being wholly good, is the most radical act you can commit.

In a world drowning in online rage, savage political discourse, and algorithm-fed resentment, Superman dares to suggest that perhaps decency could be cool again. Punk rock even. Sure, there are brain-controlled monkeys and pocket universes and villainous shitposters stirring global paranoia. But that’s kind of the world we live in. Gunn’s world just throws a cape over it. And after a decade of gritty, somber, depressing superhero shenanigans, maybe, just maybe, confronting all this horrible real-world stuff with a brightly lit optimism might be the best way out of the spiraling paradigm of awfulness. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Or at least a new lease on life for an over-tired genre.

And I would be remiss to not mention that there’s a superdog. Because any appearance of a superdog, in this case the mangy Krypto, is a slobbering delight. A superpowered canine with the instincts of a golden retriever puppy and the impulse control of a wrecking ball. He licks, smashes, occasionally flattens Superman, and generally behaves like someone gave an untrained puppy god-tier strength. Which, as someone currently raising a puppy at home, doesn’t seem that far off from the real thing. Krypto is the intersection of chaos and cute and proves that all future superheroes should have pet sidekicks this delightfully unpredictable.

Visually, Superman is a blast: bright, stylized, and unapologetically comic booky. It’s the anti-Snyder aesthetic, full of bold primary colors, tactile production design, and a sharp eye for the intersection of tech and metahuman weirdness. The visual world feels lived-in but still heightened, like a splash page in motion. The effects are sharp and occasionally playful, even doubling as physical comedy in spots, a rare flex in the age of grim, dark VFX sludge. And while the action is on par with a lot of superhero fare, it’s frequently more visually interesting, thanks to the varied powers of the ensemble gang. It’s not just punch-fly-repeat; it’s chaos with character. They even make the red tights work, and that’s no small feat.

The score from John Murphy, particularly the new Superman anthem, is a killer addition. It’s soaring, stirring, and just the right amount of triumphant. Gunn peppers in deep-cut needle drops too, because of course he does. At this point, it’s practically part of his auteur signature. “I’m a punk rocker, yes I am,” Gunn all but screams at his audience, sonic distortion jammed all the way up, even while making a tentpole Superman movie.

But in many ways, Gunn had to do the opposite of what this property has been to make it worthy of returning to the big screen. As a kick off to the DCU, it promises movies that are messy, weird, and, crucially, fun. Superman is not perfect. It’s overstuffed and totally bonkers. But it’s got heart, strong performances, and a refreshingly unashamed love of comic book absurdity. It’s not trying to be gritty just to be gritty, or dark because that’s what serious movies do. It’s strange, loud, sometimes beautiful chaos, and, again, it’s actually fun. The two-hour runtime flies by. After years of slogging through self-important superhero antics, Superman feels like a breath of kryptonite-free air. Gunn gets it. I think I’m along for the ride.

CONCLUSION: ‘Superman’ returns to the big screen in mostly triumphant fashion. David Corenswet makes a strong impression as 2025’s new Man of Steel, while James Gunn proves himself an intriguing steward of this new universe, both of this fresh take on the character and the sprawling universe that’s starting to form around him.