Who knew you could laugh during a Superman movie?
After the long night of the Snyderverse, the new Superman feels like a much-needed palate cleanser. Features of superhero stories that you'd think are commonplace feel new again: Look, this movie has colors! The jokes are funny! Team Good is fun to be around! The plot respects Jimmy Olsen! Superman is actually a hero this time!
This is a promising start for the new universe of DC movies under the lead of James Gunn. Without losing any time in recapping the origin story we all know, without flashbacking to how Clark Kent moved to Metropolis or met Lois Lane or discovered his true origin or became a superhero, we jump right into the action and, curiously, address the same question that the Snyderverse raised but didn't know how to handle: can a world of squishy, breakable humans trust a Superman? The movie immediately exposes the question's disingenuousness: this version of Superman is not a newcomer. He has spent day after day doing nothing but help people. Anything he might need to prove to humanity is already proven. If by this point Lex Luthor still has an obsession with exposing Superman as a threat, that's a Lex problem.
I've always liked the versions of Lex Luthor that view Superman's existence as a personal insult, as a negation of all the human effort and potential that Lex obviously sees himself as the apex of. It's fun enough to have a Lex who is just a greedy businessman whose unethical corporate practices get thwarted by the Daily Planet, but it's far more interesting to have a Lex who can't resist comparing himself to Superman. I was skeptical about the casting of Nicholas Hoult, but upon watching the finished movie, I was sold. Hoult brings a burning intensity to the role, a consuming rage that prevents Lex from noticing the incongruity of his cause: one of the superpowered soldiers he builds to kill Superman says, "I gave up my humanity for this." Lex claims to be a defender of humanity, but in the process he breaks every standard of human dignity. The fact that he can't see how his methods contradict his goals turns him into a tragic character in the classical sense.
Lex is so focused on his quest that he doesn't even realize that the world has already shown him to be wrong. His assumption is that an uncontrollable Kryptonian is a threat to everyone. But there's already an uncontrollable Kryptonian flying around: Superdog, and he's the sweetest, most adorable chaos beast. (As the perpetually exhausted guardian of a chaos beast, I can relate to Superman's frustrations.) The interactions between Superman and his indestructible pet are among the high points of the movie; they make for great comedy and reveal important sides of both characters: Superdog is playful but not malicious; Superman can get exasperated but never lashes out.
This characterization of Superman as played by David Corenswet is fundamental for the tone of the movie. Whereas the Snyder version would get back at a bar bully by destroying his means of subsistence, the Gunn version braves a river of antimatter to keep a baby safe, and feels sad when a rampaging kaiju is killed. This Superman is genuinely kind, to the point of wishing to save the enemies that are punching him in the face. Other superheroes think he's too naïve, but it's that solid trust in the best side of people that ends up saving him at a key moment in the plot.
The implied rebukes to the Snyder Superman don't stop there. The Kents are infinitely better human beings in this version; in particular a touching scene with Jonathan Kent helps Clark sort out how to make sense of the revelation that he was sent to Earth as a conqueror. Even when he has his hands occupied fighting superpowered monsters in the middle of Metropolis, he goes out of his way to minimize collateral damage (again, such a basic display of goodness should go without saying, but remember that Snyder's Superman lowered the bar beneath the Earth's mantle).
As great and awesome as Superman is in this incarnation, he doesn't save the world alone. Lois Lane isn't afraid to question the political implications of his actions in his face, and she convinces the rest of superheroes to grow past their motivated apathy. One character whom Lex had blackmailed into villainy switches to Team Good upon seeing Superman's kindness firsthand. And Eve Tessmacher, the trophy girlfriend that Lex parades everywhere, turns out to be the most important character in the movie: even as Lex uses her for her shallow bimbo image, she cleverly weaponizes that same shallow bimbo image to help defeat Lex.
The relevance of Superman has been questioned many times, usually in the form, "If he can punch anything, what is a challenge for him?" This movie gives him a problem he can't punch his way out of: a crisis of identity exacerbated by the manipulation of public opinion. This mirrors the status of the character in real life: both Superman (the heroic icon) and Superman (the movie) need to prove themselves to a world that has stopped believing in Superman. Both emerge victorious because they don't stop believing in goodness. Ironic cynicism is soooo tired, and it should never have been mixed with this character. Gunn understands that a successful story about Superman is one that sticks to the simple ideals that have always defined him, not as lip service, but as a guiding theme of the action. Superman shouldn't win because he punches harder. He should win because decency and compassion are actually stronger.
Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.
POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.
