Superheroes are having a substandard time of it these days. The Marvel Cinematic Universe may remain the highest-grossing film franchise of all time, with nearly $32bn in box office revenue, but lately the whole superhero market has been sagging. It’s not so much that audiences have suddenly decided that superheroes are for kids after all, but a sense of sheer fatigue, nauseated satiation.
Nonetheless, Marvel’s rival, DC Studios, owned by Warner Bros Discovery, is relaunching its own cinematic universe once more, under the creative leadership of James Gunn, a director poached from Marvel, where he made three endearingly goofy, hugely successful Guardians of the Galaxy movies. DC’s properties include Batman, Wonder Woman… and Superman. Here’s the first instalment of the renovated DC Universe, yet another reboot, in this summer of sequels and retreads, scripted and directed by Gunn.
Superman, created as a comic book character in 1938, had his cinematic heyday in 1978 with the first of several Christopher Reeve films. Subsequent incarnations, starring Brandon Routh and Henry Cavill were less impressive, even when the superhero was backed up by Batman, Wonder Woman and other DC stock.
Aware that yet another origin story would be unbearable, Gunn launches the film straight into action, with a rapid countdown from three centuries ago, to three decades, three years, three hours and finally just three minutes ago, when, we are told, he lost a fight for the first time. Battered and bleeding, Superman lies on the ice in full costume: blue spandex suit, flowing scarlet cloak, and big red pants worn on the outside. He whistles. In an explosion of snow, his rescuer arrives, Krypton the superdog: a white terrier with one ear up, one down, a CGI creation evidently modelled on Gunn’s own badly behaved rescue dog. He will be mercilessly exploited for maximum cuteness in the next two hours.
Superman is the 6ft 4in, 32-year-old comparative newcomer David Corenswet, who looks the part and plays it as a naive, and perhaps none too bright do-gooder. Skipping the pretence of not knowing who Clark Kent really is, his girlfriend of three months, sassy journalist Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan, The Marvellous Mrs Maisel ), observes that he trusts everyone and thinks everybody beautiful. Superman, embarrassingly, tells her that maybe looking for the best in everyone is “the real punk rock”. Later, when he is fighting a rampageous kaiju, Superman wants to see the monster humanely captured rather than killed. He then pauses to save not just innocent people but also an endangered squirrel.
Lex Luthor (a shaven-headed but not very convincingly evil Nicholas Hoult) has it in for Superman for interfering with his plans for the invasion of peaceful Jarhanpur by a ruthless military dictatorship, Boravia. Luthor’s minions include the Engineer (María Gabriela de Faría), whose body is composed of “nanites” that can transform into any deadly thing, and the Hammer of Boravia, Ultraman, a clone of Superman whom Luthor commands through pre-ordained fight-move codes.
Superman’s allies, though, are the Justice Gang: Green Lantern (Nathan Fillion in a bowl haircut playing it for laughs), Hawkgirl (Isabela Merced) and, taking over a large part of the plot, Mr Terrific (Edi Gathegi). Metamorpho (Anthony Carrigan), who can transmute into any element, including, unluckily for Superman, kryptonite, changes sides halfway. All are angling for appearances in future DCU productions; Supergirl (Milly Alcock), who bursts in for a late cameo, already has her own movie scheduled for next year, doubtless with Superdog bounding by her side.
Thus packed with sideshows, Superman doesn’t follow through its main story with any conviction, relying instead on industrial quantities of goofiness, quirkiness and waggishness, until the third act’s cacophonous big fight (you’ll never guess who wins, so I won’t tell you). Like all superhero battles, it soon feels pointless, like playing tennis without a net. This Superman is updated, it’s brightly coloured, it’s top-level CGI, but it’s still puerile. Manufacturing fun on this scale is hard work, even on a budget of $225m.
As always, efforts have been made to suggest the film has contemporary political resonance. Might Lex Luthor be Elon Musk? Could Boravia be Russia? Or is it Israel? Gunn said that he doesn’t make films to change the world, “but if a few people could be just a bit nicer after this it would make me happy”. Really? Some eight-year-olds might love it, mind.
“Superman” is in cinemas now
[See also: The Salt Path is Scientology for the middle classes]
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This article appears in the 16 Jul 2025 issue of the New Statesman, A Question of Intent