Yup, I Liked Superman!

I was pretty sure I’d like Superman, the first cinematic entry in Warner Bros’ latest attempt to have DC Comics characters match the Marvel megafranchise on screen. Director James Gunn brought us Guardians Of The Galaxy, Guardians Vol. 2, The Belko Experiment, The Suicide Squad, POPCORN CLASSICS all. Super and Slither might qualify, too, when I get around to revisiting them. The only POPCORN CLASSIC I know of by previous DC majordomo Zack Snyder is the Dawn Of The Dead remake, which Gunn wrote. But I still haven’t watched Guardians Vol. 3 yet, saving it for the MCU Binge I'll get back to, eventually. These days my love of super-content is tempered by the excess amount available. When asked if I saw Superman in theaters, I'd explain that - between Disney+ and HBO Max - it feels like I have an ESPN superhero package at home. And I don’t love the experience of witnessing a major league game in person as much I do following my whims and immersing from the couch. It's cheaper, parking’s easier, and if it's boring, you feel less like a schmuck.

Such a whim led me to remember I could watch Superman this week, and, yup, I loved it! I’m sure it was even more of a gas in person, and I’m curious what my experience would have been surrounded by cheering fans, not being able to pause when I wanted to boggle at what I just saw (or go pee). But the movie still stood out as a fresh new strategy for intellectual property deployment and a fantastic example of PG-13 Hollywood craft. 

There might be another worthy reason for disdain I haven’t conceived, but if “fresh new strategy for intellectual property deployment” made you recoil, that’s the one reason for disliking Superman I know I respect. Many professional critics and lovers of the theatrical experience likely didn’t want a sign that the superhero genre is alive and well. To them, Superman’s popularity means we’ll all go see Lanterns: Legacy in 2042, assuming movie theaters (or paid movie critics) still exist, and Earth hasn’t pulled a Krypton. Though the film’s climax was enjoyable, it was familiar enough that I get why someone might grumble about the dog showing up again, or that we haven’t had another juicy Clark & Lois scene (hi, Keith!). As Robert Christgau noted with frustration in the ‘80s, “every time Haircut 100 or Depeche Mode finds a riff or a groove it means they may last longer than the fifteen months allotted by the march of fashion.” With blockbusters, pros sit there for two hours knowing it may add up to another fifteen years. That’s gotta suck.

But “genre non grata” aside, I don’t get why you’d beef with Superman’s quality as a four-quadrant blockbuster. All the back story you need to know is dealt with in three or four sentences of text before the first scene. The only reason you’d be confused by the ensemble at the Daily Planet or the ensemble in the Justice Gang is if, after more than a decade of Marvelry, you kept second-guessing you were missing something. There’s plenty of lore around characters like Metamorpho and Guy Gardner if you want it, and my JLI-adoring inner child wants to give Nathan Fillion the biggest hug for bringing the latter to life, bowlcut and all. But Gunn merely expects you to accept this is a world where superheroes exist, and that ordinary people try to go about their lives accordingly, knowing costumed vigilantes of varying degrees of competence will hopefully save them from being squashed by a space creature. Many also know Superman is the best, and most devoted, when it comes to saving people.

That devotion leads to the film’s primary dilemma, as Superman (before the movie, rather than in a thirty minute prelude to the story!) stopped a country from invading another, pissing off global leaders elected and not. Most pissed by a mile is Lex Luthor, a ruthless megalomaniac who resents the idea of an alien having authority on a planet he naturally deserves to control (Nicholas Hoult's slick-to-frothing Luthor cremates Gene Hackman's, if that hasn't already happened. And don’t even mention Jesse Eisenberg). Lois Lane, Superman’s reporter girlfriend, cuts through the narcissism to point out the serious issues with hypothetically benevolent power-tripping, and confirms the hero was reckless, if well-intentioned. Whether or not it was right to live out many people’s dream of war-blocking a bloodthirsty despot, there are consequences Superman has to answer for if he wants people to give him the benefit of the doubt. A benefit it becomes shockingly logical not to provide.

The theme of having to prove your self-perceived virtue through actions, and by respecting the humanity of everyone, is a terrific one for an action movie. I can see warming to even more during later viewings. But on first blush, sometimes I was too distracted by the smarts of the storytelling to care. For instance, the speed with which we’re allowed to grasp Superman’s endearing, human fallibility is breathtaking after twenty years of directors like Snyder and Bryan Singer expecting angels to blow trumpets as this golden god does the dumbest, vainest shit I’ve ever seen. Superman Returns was literally about him being a deadbeat babydaddy, and still ended with him watching the planet like Space Jesus. He showed such flagrant indifference for the lives of others in Man Of Steel that they had to skip Man Of Steel 2 and make a movie about how much Batman hated Man Of Steel. Then, after two-plus hours of growling at each other, Batman decided Superman was the coolest anyway, because…uh…he’s Superman. And their moms have the same name.

Gunn would have been forgiven for merely returning Superman to the boy scout gallantry Christopher Reeve gave the role in ‘80s, but instead we’re given…literally, it’s called out…a very sincere, outrageously handsome P.O.D. fan who just wishes he could save everybody. His Clark Kent and Superman are almost identical in behavior and temperament, the world’s obliviousness to his identity explained by hypno-glasses and fun with his hair. While David Corenswet is great in the role, I actually think the Snyderverse’s Henry Cavill or the Singermovie’s Brandon Routh might have done just as well. I hope they’ve done the therapy necessary to see this and not furiously kick a wall crying, because it isn’t fair these perfectly charismatic actors were given such terrible material in comparison.

The one part of the Snyder’s Supes I respected was how Lois Lane was treated as Superman’s romantic equal. But, to be fair, everyone was smarter than that Superman, and their relationship seemed primarily about feeling comfortably sexy together. We don’t learn Clark and Lois’ backstory in the new movie, but Rachel Brosnahan, rather than attempt to outdo Margot Kidder at screwball comedy, or Amy Adams at erotic confidence, plays Lois as a woman who’s fearless about getting to the truth of the matter and loves Clark’s for the bravery of his kindness. She sees how hurt he is by a hashtag, and when she mutters she knew it wouldn’t work between them, the issue isn’t his godliness, but that “I’m bad at relationships.” Letting someone in a Superman movie not make it about Superman? And having it be Lois? Is that allowed? Yes, because it explains why he feels honored to be seen by her. And it looks like the sex is good, too, Gunn’s fun with the angles during their arguing and canoodling enriching the dynamics of a relationship that’s easily fucked up (remember the amnesia kiss?).

A lot of the smarts shown are visual rather than dialogue-related, suggesting Gunn is genuinely growing his gifts as a director, rather than just his corporate mojo. A simple example is when a monster breathes fire at the windows of a skyscraper. Our logical reaction is ”All dead. Everybody inside has been barbecued.” Then we see inside, where people are leaping just in front of the flames, a typical cliche for movies smart enough to avoid us thinking about collateral damage (…Man Of Steel), but lazy enough to merit a rebuttal from Neil DeGrasse Tyson. Finally, we see survivors look around, surprised to be alive, and realizing that Superman had blocked the majority of the fire. Most directors, knowing Superman has to save people, would have shown Superman leaping in front of the flames. Instead, Gunn shows us familiar imagery before standing it on its head, inspiring surprise in the audience before letting it cheer the heroism. 

Maybe the most impressive choice was to subtly hold on images that would make great comic book frames (and may well have came from them, as I haven't read All-Star Superman or any other potential source material). I found Ang Lee's Hulk humiliating, the director - probably bored out of his skull - filling the screen with little boxes, as if little boxes are why people read comic books. By comparison, Gunn uses the filmic language to achieve a comic-book like effect without demanding you see the attempt with freeze-frame and visible borders. People may have walked out saying this Superman was more "comic-like” than many movies, not really knowing how to say why. If your goal is entertainment, this is preferable to someone saying "We get it! Comics."

It could be said these bits of cinematic showmanship are just grace notes on factory product, not unlike the familiar superhero ensemble comedy provided by the Justice Gang or that oh-so-cute Krypto (anyone grumbling about the dog or a baby looking fake should just give up on PG-13 movies already, unless they’re waiting till Xenu takes Tom Cruise). But grace notes on factory product is historically what Hollywood is about. Hitchcock may have shown more nuzzling between actors, and didn’t have access to several hundred digital animators overseas, but his primary goal was still keeping your eyes on the screen for a ripping action yarn. One can easily respond to that with “well, at least Hitchcock/ Carpenter/ Emmerich/ Hill/ Donner/ Scott…” - but that’s an expression of taste, rather than a yearning for artistic merit.

There’s nothing wrong with preferring wide shots filmed on location, analog film stock, Sven Jurböwski’s gorgeous cinematography in 1974’s Who's Spying Now? or Dex Matheson’s in 2004’s Gun Point. But have the humility to not pretend essential craft in cinema is defined by your taste in posters. I’m not saying “let people enjoy things,” so much as “let yourself avoid things you don’t enjoy.” And be willing to admit what it is you do or don’t enjoy, without needing it to be of universal virtue or contempt, respectively.

Me, I’m not mad about so much superhero stuff everywhere. Hollywood has always leaned towards the most exciting images it can provide with modern technology. It used to be cattle runs, or a couple dozen men running down a hill with spears. Later, it was gun fights. Then car chases. Space opera. Boobs and butts have always done well, too, though now one can see everythang at home, without being social. Thanks to CGI, it’s never been easier to have a character actor shoot laser beams from their hands, so that’s where the money is. I don’t think my affection means much more than it did when Grandpa was half-asleep with a western or a war movie playing on the CBS Sunday Matinee. But it doesn’t mean less, either. Whether Superman holds up like Shane will be decided in a future decade, assuming the Ben Mankiewiczs of tomorrow aren't busy swinging chains on motorcycles in a desert wasteland. I just know I was impressed and had fun.

If there's something I got wrong, or don't get, or I got better than you ever realized could be gotten, and have to thank me for the wisdom, anthonyisright at gmail dot com is the metaphorical comment box.