There’s a certain scene in James Gunn’s much-anticipated Superman reboot that encapsulates both the warmth and awkward vulnerability of its titular hero in ways that CGI battles and galactic threats never could. It’s deceptively simple: Lois Lane arrives home to find Clark Kent cheerfully cooking “breakfast for dinner” to mark their three-month anniversary. “That’s your favorite,” Clark insists with a grin. Lois gently corrects him—“No, that’s your favorite.” It’s a moment loaded with charm and subtle relational tension, revealing that even superheroes can be out of sync in their relationships.
This charming slice of domestic life represents one of the film’s most compelling emotional beats—two people navigating the early, delicate stage of love. They’re clearly not quite on the same page emotionally yet, and layered over their flirtation is the knowledge that Clark isn’t just a mild-mannered journalist—he’s Superman, the most powerful being on Earth. Gunn allows this personal thread to run parallel with larger questions of identity, power, and responsibility that have always loomed large in the Superman mythos.
In fact, it’s this balancing act between the intimate and the immense that gives Gunn’s Superman its unique tone—a hybrid of romantic screwball comedy, philosophical inquiry, and superhero spectacle. When Clark promises Lois an exclusive on-the-record interview with Superman, it leads to a sharp, witty exchange that’s among the movie’s highlights. Brosnahan’s Lois grills Superman with tough but fair questions, particularly about his unilateral intervention in a foreign war without consulting the U.S. government. Gunn stages the scene with brisk pacing and crackling dialogue that recalls the classic screwball dynamics of yesteryear’s films, but with the added depth of present-day geopolitics.
These smaller, character-driven moments are where Superman truly soars. They stand in stark contrast to the movie’s heavier visual effects sequences, chaotic battles, and world-building detours. Gunn seems aware of the genre’s saturation and leans into a tonal mix that’s at times refreshing and at others, overly familiar. Despite his best intentions, the film sometimes feels like a fast-food meal: enjoyable in the moment, but not entirely satisfying after the fact.
To Gunn’s credit, he doesn’t waste time rehashing the Kryptonian origin tale we all know. Instead, he immerses us into a world where Superman is already an established and adored figure—until a controversial mission derails his golden reputation. After stepping in to prevent a war in a sovereign nation without authorization, Superman faces backlash, both political and public. For the first time, he loses a battle and must be rescued by his faithful companion, Krypto the Superdog.
Now, let’s talk about Krypto. Yes, the superpowered canine enters the fray in this movie, a clear sign that we’re not meant to take everything too seriously. He’s adorable, chaotic, and in desperate need of obedience training. But as comedic as Krypto’s inclusion is, it also underscores Gunn’s intent to explore Superman’s softer, more humane side—he’s not just an indestructible alien, he’s a man with pets, doubts, and deep convictions.
The film’s primary antagonist, Lex Luthor, gets a sleek, modern update courtesy of Nicholas Hoult. Forget the campy real estate schemes of old—this Luthor is more Elon Musk meets GQ cover star, a tech titan running a sinister empire behind his glossy public image. Hoult delivers a magnetic performance, equal parts charm and sociopathic obsession. He’s not just obsessed with defeating Superman—he’s determined to humiliate him, destroy his credibility, and monopolize power on Earth.
Sara Sampaio plays Eve Teschmacher, Luthor’s vacuous influencer girlfriend, with delightful self-awareness. Her selfie-taking antics provide comedic relief but also serve as a commentary on the shallow distraction of modern fame. Meanwhile, Wendell Pierce is underutilized as Perry White, editor of the Daily Planet, and Skyler Gisondo injects much-needed freshness into Jimmy Olsen, the young photojournalist who’s more than just comic relief.
As Luthor tightens his grip on public sentiment and manipulates the global narrative, the story expands to include a slew of other DC characters. Enter Michael Holt aka Mister Terrific (Edi Gathegi), Guy Gardner’s snarky Green Lantern (Nathan Fillion sporting a comic-accurate bowl cut), and Hawkgirl (Isabela Merced), all of whom bring charisma and color to the screen. Their dynamic is lively, but their bickering about whether they should call themselves “The Justice Gang” edges into well-trodden territory. There’s a sense that we’ve seen this movie before—teams assembling, trading barbs, questioning their purpose.
And yet, there are moments of striking originality and groundedness. In one of the film’s darker turns, Superman is brutally detained by masked agents and locked in a detention center. The facility is teeming with prisoners, including families and individuals who have committed nothing more than thought crimes—like a woman who simply blogged negatively about Lex Luthor. These scenes starkly parallel real-world political and humanitarian issues, adding layers of social commentary rarely attempted in superhero cinema. Gunn dares to push the envelope, if only briefly, suggesting that even the Man of Steel isn’t immune to the machinery of authoritarianism.
Still, Superman doesn’t wallow in grimness. It quickly shifts back to light-hearted sequences, including one where Superman stops mid-battle to rescue a squirrel. It’s absurd, but also touching. This is a Superman with a moral code so stringent, so idealistic, that he can’t help but save everything and everyone—no matter how small. He even agonizes over whether a monstrous villain might have been stopped without being killed, suggesting a pacifism rarely emphasized in the character’s cinematic history.
Gunn wisely casts Pruitt Taylor Vince and Neva Howell as Jonathan and Martha Kent, opting for character actors with genuine warmth rather than the star-studded glam of previous iterations (think Kevin Costner and Diane Lane in Man of Steel). Their scenes with Clark are understated, yet powerful—showing us the tender roots of a hero raised to always choose compassion, even when the world doesn’t deserve it.
David Corenswet, stepping into Superman’s iconic boots, gives a sincere and likeable performance. He brings a classical charm and sincerity to the role, embodying the hope and dignity that define Superman. Yet, he lacks the superstar charisma of Christopher Reeve or the visceral intensity of Henry Cavill. His Superman is somewhere in between—a well-meaning Boy Scout trying to navigate a morally gray world.
That’s perhaps the most reflective quality of this film: it’s constantly trying to strike a balance. Between action and intimacy, between satire and sincerity, between old-school idealism and modern complexity. Sometimes it finds that equilibrium beautifully—especially in character-driven scenes like Lois and Clark’s flirty, fumbling dinners. At other times, it loses its footing under the weight of too many characters, too many ideas, and an increasingly familiar third-act showdown.
The larger cinematic universe it’s meant to launch—DC’s new “Gods and Monsters” chapter—feels more like an echo of Gunn’s own Guardians of the Galaxy work than a bold reinvention. The humor, the ensemble dynamic, the cosmic action—it’s all here, but it doesn’t feel particularly fresh. There’s a sense that we’re dipping into leftover ingredients rather than a brand-new recipe.
And yet, the film remains watchable, occasionally thrilling, and more often than not, endearing. There’s a genuine effort to make Superman relatable again—not just a figure of myth, but a man in love, a man conflicted, a man trying to do good in a cynical world. In an era where superheroes often come brooding and broken, Gunn’s Superman offers a glimmer of hopeful decency.
Ultimately, Superman lands somewhere in the middle of the superhero pantheon. It’s better than some recent misfires in the genre but doesn’t quite touch the iconic heights of 1978’s Superman: The Movie. It may not redefine the superhero film as we know it, but it reminds us of why we care about Superman in the first place. He’s not just a god among mortals—he’s a man trying to be better than yesterday, even when no one’s watching.
So, was it necessary? In the age of endless reboots and cinematic universes, that question might be beside the point. What matters is that this Superman, for all his imperfections, dares to care—and that might be the boldest superpower of all.
