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Yahoo
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Superman Review
Superman is one of the most enduring figures in all of pop culture: a mythic symbol of truth, justice, and the American way without which the very idea of a superhero as we know it wouldn't exist – or, for that matter, the phrase 'truth, justice, and the American way.' James Gunn's new big-screen take on the character finds itself questioning what place such an idealistic, elemental hero could possibly have in our complicated modern world, and how those battered, yet timeless, values fit into a blockbuster that also shoulders the burden of launching an entire cinematic universe. It should come as little surprise that the man who turned one of Marvel's most obscure teams into beloved, roller-coaster-headlining A-listers figured out how to make Superman soar once again, and the movie gets both the DCU and David Corenswet's sure-to-be long reign as the Man of Steel off to a great start. Gunn grapples with Superman's mythic status by fully embracing it, giving the details of Kal-El's origins no more screentime than some brief opening, onscreen text. Twenty-plus years after X-Men and Sam Raimi's Spider-Man movies ushered in the age of superhero cinema, Superman takes for granted that its audience will feel at home in a world where gods, monsters, and even Superdogs named Krypto are a fact of life and confidently uses that to spectacular effect. What immediately sets Gunn's Superman apart from its forebears is the breadth of comic book history that it openly and passionately pulls from, leaning heavily into more colorful cosmic and pulpy elements than any big-screen Superman before. Literally, this the most vibrant superhero movie since… well, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3. Gunn comes ready to solve the problem of world-building by dropping us directly into a world that's already built: our earliest moments with Superman are spent in the aftermath of a battle he's already fought, Lex Luthor has already been studying the Kryptonian's strengths and weaknesses from afar for years, and Clark Kent's relationship with his hard-nosed partner in journalism, Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan), is several months old. Even the nuances of privatized superheroism are quickly established in the middle of a kaiju fight as Supes and the corporate capes of the Justice Gang bicker over best practices. This leaves Superman feeling like both Gunn and Warner Bros. reckoning with all the success they've seen (or in Gunn's case, furthered) on the part of Marvel Studios, and the smart bets they place on how much we'll accept as natural to this new continuity without the need to stop down and explain every little thing pay off. It's an optimistic calculation, and it fits in well because optimism is the name of the game in Superman. That hopefulness is anchored by a knockout performance from Corenswet. He brings a ton of confident swagger to Superman, perfectly balanced with an old-fashioned tendency to let slip a 'good gosh' or a 'what the hey' in lieu of a curse word. His take on Superman lives in these idiosyncrasies, frequent reminders of Clark's humble upbringing that do wonders for keeping the question of humanity, and what that means in Clark's case, in the mix. The lines between Superman and Clark are quite blurry here, especially since Clark spends half his screentime with Lois, and the Daily Planet reporter already knows he's Superman by this point. Brosnahan evokes Lois' weary, wiley personality well, and an early scene when Superman grants her an interview – which quickly spins into a lovely verbal battle where the complicated dynamics that underpin their budding relationship rear their head – does a fantastic job of establishing the two stars' chemistry. At the same time, Clark's refusal to acknowledge the downsides to his recent intervention in a foreign border conflict goes a long way to making the god-among-men fallible. Getting his ass kicked by a dog in the first scene also has that effect. Gunn regularly skips over spelling out the background info that even non-comics-reading audience members will know by cultural osmosis, so the elements of Superman's personality and mythos that he does stop to underline say a lot about his take on what the character represents. When the interview with Lois reaches its fever pitch – with Clark bursting out that people were going to die had he not stepped in – it's an idealistic oversimplification. But the horror that he'd be responsible for those deaths is baked into Corenswet's delivery there, and it represents why he works so well as the character. For all the existential conflicts Superman navigates while he's chatting with his girlfriend in her living room or flying around trying to save the world, it's the brief, intimate interactions he shares with the citizens of Metropolis he's trying to protect that really shade Corenswet as a Superman of the people. He's quick to suggest a breathing exercise for someone freaking out after he's just had to fly them to a rooftop three blocks away, or to remember the name of a street vendor he'd saved at some indeterminate point in the past. Heck, he even saves a squirrel at one point. These kinds of exchanges take just a few seconds to play out, but they're all over Superman and go a long way to grounding the stakes.A longstanding critique of Superman stories, though, is that with his basic invincibility and all, it's hard to establish those stakes: he has none of the angst of Batman, none of the 'for everything I do right, two things go wrong' crises of Spider-Man. Gunn wisely takes every chance he can get to show Superman in agony, putting the hero through an absolute gauntlet of physical (and emotional) trauma that at times even seems to pull from the director's horror background – especially during one fight where Superman is rendered unable to breathe. But if you won't mind me crossing universes to invoke Norman Osborn for a second, Gunn knows well that the secret to really challenging a hero is first to attack his heart. The cost of choosing kindness becomes Clark's driving conflict throughout Superman, as the situation between the fictional nations of Boravia and Jarhanpur force him to take stands that he'd been avoiding up to this point. (Willfully ignorant, but well-intentioned stands, that is.) Speaking of storytelling shortcuts, it's the oldest trick in the book to make a character more sympathetic by giving them an adorable doggy sidekick, but consider me a fool for Krypto. It's funny to watch a bad dog trash a house – it's very funny to watch a bad dog trash the Fortress of Solitude, and the mayhem this interstellar rescue brings to Clark's life is a constant source of joy in Superman. But Gunn's laying some smart groundwork here too, connecting Krypto's raw but unfocused power to Clark's own struggle to juggle ability and responsibility. Ma and Pa Kent (Neva Howell and Pruitt Taylor Vince) have a part to play there too, making a couple of unshowy but impactful appearances to remind their son and us of his Middle-American roots. Superman's archnemesis Lex Luthor has his thumb firmly on the scale of the Boravia conflict, and Nicholas Hoult's take on the billionaire supervillain straddles a fine line: The character reads as simultaneously impressive and pathetic. Increasingly befuddled as to why his inventions and discoveries aren't enough for the world, Lex is nakedly jealous of Superman and seems about three seconds from going haywire over it at any given moment. Hoult has a ton of fun playing with that unpredictability, and Gunn uses the actor's excellent comedic timing to great effect by having Lex punctuate his tantrums with petty final jabs or tossed-off comments which are funny only to himself (and, again, us). The specifics of Luthor's plot, perhaps unsurprisingly, start to feel a little harder to track in the more chaotic second half, a problem that's somewhat compounded by the staffers at the Daily Planet. Keeping us up to date on the rising global tensions is all Clark's coworkers have to do here, and their zippy back and forth, while funny, sometimes obscures the finer details of what's going on – even Lois winds up sliding more into this role as the story goes on. Stepping forward from this newsroom Greek chorus and into the spotlight: Skyler Gisondo as Jimmy Olsen. Gisondo fulfills the traditional comic-relief duties of Superman's pal, while also factoring into the plot in an unexpected and satisfying way as he gets in over his head with one of his sources. Gunn allots a fair amount of time to the other heroes and villains, but wisely doesn't overplay his hand trying to make each and every one a household name right out of the gate. We don't forge any deep relationships with these supporting characters, but good guys like Green Lantern (Nathan Fillion), Hawkgirl (Isabela Merced), and Mister Terrific (Edi Gathegi), bad guys like the Engineer (María Gabriela de Faría), and unaligned metahumans like Metamorpho enter the fray without ever pulling too much focus from the larger Superman-versus-Lex conflict. It's a trick that Gunn perfected across the Guardians trilogy, The Suicide Squad, and Creature Commandos, and it pays off wonderfully with this ensemble. These characters also add a nice level of variety to the big action sequences. Superman may have a staggering array of powers, but they've lost a bit of novelty over nearly a century of onscreen depictions, and flashy Lantern abilities, screaming hawk noises portending big mace hits from Hawkgirl, Mr. Terrific's gadgets, and Metamorpho's head floating around while his body regenerates for another elemental attack all shake up the visual palette well. As for how that action is covered, Gunn reinforces the human element amid all the midair brawls and collapsing skyscrapers. Lots of it is tied closely to the characters' perspectives in physical space, which gives some of the big fights a more immersive feel than other recent comic book movies – something also helped subtly by some great lighting choices that blend the visual effects and the practical photography together convincingly. The camera races alongside Superman and carries the momentum of his big punches through buildings and concrete as he tussles with the bad guys. John Murphy and David Fleming's guitar-heavy score gives these scenes an impressive sense of gravity, and that extends to the emotional moments, too. Although Murphy and Fleming quote John Williams' original Superman theme liberally, Gunn is more judicious with his crate-digging, mixtape-making sensibility this time out. That makes their driving and inspiring compositions all the more important. Keeping the focus on what the stirring music is revealing about the characters (and what the dialogue isn't) feels like the right move for a movie where sometimes words fail and the heartstrings sound out the loudest.
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Nick Offerman Says ‘Dumb People Insist Ron Swanson' Voted for Trump: Ron ‘Would Despise' Trump ‘Because He's Disrespectful to Women'
Nick Offerman said in an interview with IndieWire while promoting his film 'Sovereignty' that only 'dumb people' think Ron Swanson, his beloved 'Parks and Recreation' character, is a Donald Trump supporter. Offerman played Ron on all seven seasons of the NBC sitcom, which ran for 126 episodes between 2009 and 2015. The actor said that MAGA supporters think Ron 'must be one of us' just because he has a shotgun or something. 'Dumb people insist that Ron Swanson would've voted for Trump. And I don't deign to answer myself,' Offerman said. 'I take it to Mike Schur, the main creator of Ron, and he said, 'Swanson would've despised Trump, because Ron loved capitalism. And Trump made the stupidest move you could make as a capitalist, which is to go into public service.'' More from Variety European Producers Praise New Czech Investment Obligation for Major Streamers, Say Trump Tariffs Turned U.S. Market 'Stone Cold' White House Photoshops Trump Onto 'Superman' Poster, Touts the 'American Way' Amid MAGA Outrage Over James Gunn's 'Immigrant' Comment Podcaster Andrew Schulz Voted for Trump but Is Turning on Him: 'I Voted for None of This... I Want Him to Stop Wars. He's Funding Them. Reduce the Budget. He's Increasing It.' 'He would think he's an absolute idiot,' Offerman continued about Ron's thoughts on Trump. 'He would also despise him because he's disrespectful to women and many others. And that's just an example of all the people and value sets that Ron would despise, because Ron is a good person.' Offerman has always been protective over Ron since 'Parks and Recreation' wrapped. Earlier this year, the actor defended the LGBTQ+ community against homophobic hate on X after Michael Flynn Jr., son of retired Army lieutenant general and Trump's former U.S. national security advisor Michael Flynn, attempted to use a clip of Ron Swanson to denounce Pride Month. 'Just wanted to post how I feel about 'pride' month,' Flynn Jr. wrote on X accompanied by a 'Parks and Rec' clip showing Swanson throwing a rainbow flag into a dumpster. Only the clip was doctored to make it appear as if Offerman's character was homophobic. The real scene, from the fourth season episode 'The Trial of Leslie Knope,' sees Ron throwing his computer in the trash. The edit Flynn Jr. shared on X replaced the computer with the rainbow flag. 'Ron was best man at a gay wedding you dumb fuck,' Offerman fired back on X. 'Happy Pride.' Offerman was referring to the 'Parks and Recreation' series finale, 'One Last Ride,' where Ron serves as the best man to his hairdresser, Typhoon (Rodney To). Best of Variety Final Emmy Predictions: Talk Series and Scripted Variety - New Blood Looks to Tackle Late Night Staples Oscars 2026: George Clooney, Jennifer Lopez, Julia Roberts, Wagner Moura and More Among Early Contenders to Watch New Movies Out Now in Theaters: What to See This Week
Los Angeles Times
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
We desperately need a dose of ‘Truth, Justice, and the American Way'
OK, I'll say it. I'm sick of superheroes. I blame the Marvel Cinematic Universe (36 movies and counting over 17 years) and the DC Extended Universe (43 movies and counting, mostly since the late 1970s). Maybe Earth's not big enough for two universes. They're running pretty thin these days, down to rebooting reboots, making sequels for prequels and squeezing every ounce from the intellectual property tube to fill out streaming platform minutes. But there's always Superman. The Krypton-born alien, orphaned, sent off into space for survival and then raised by adoptive parents in Kansas. He's now been with American pop culture for 10 decades (eight in film). Despite an outfit modeled after a circus strongman, he's become a durable, transcendent symbol of the ultimate immigrant and somehow a simultaneous embodiment of 'Truth, Justice, and the American Way.' Superman's the classic American good guy, and so this weekend's opening of the new 'Superman' with David Corenswet is a great time to think about the real good guys and gals in American life — that is, if you can find any. Where are all the good guys and gals in America? What qualifies someone for the title these days? The idea has definitely shifted. It's as if by sheer screen volume the fake superheroes overwhelmed the public consciousness. Superheroes are dialed up so high we can't hear what real heroes sound like anymore. A 2008 poll in Britain found almost a quarter thought Winston Churchill was fake, while a majority of Britons believed Sherlock Holmes was real. We've become confused: We prefer to watch fake heroes on screen rather than expect real ones to emerge in life. And so the fake ones become the only kind of hero we recognize. The historian Daniel Boorstin described this transition from heroism to fame in his 1961 book 'The Image.' He noted that heroes in American history were typically known for great public contribution through immense difficulty and danger. It didn't matter much what they looked like because their deeds had saved lives and mattered to so many. But pictures and movies changed everything in the 20th century. Heroes became celebrities. We traded away enduring contributions to the public good in exchange for flimsy, flashy fame that works for a paycheck. Value over values; money over all. This isn't hard to see. Look at how college sports has been conquered by contracts and name-image-likeness deals. How law firms kowtowed to an administration making unprecedented demands. How media heavyweights keep bending knees to the same. And let's not get started with social media 'influencers' except to say that doing the right and honest thing has been swept aside by the twin tsunamis of popularity and the Almighty Buck. Where's our real truth, our real justice, our real American way? Not in Congress. The 'Big Beautiful Bill' is a perfect example. It might take a Mt. Rushmore makeover to honor the profound contributions to cowardice in the votes surrounding this act. Rep. Jeff Crank (R-Colo.) couldn't vote fast enough to add trillions to the national debt despite arguing, less than a year ago, that Congress is 'turning a blind eye to this $35 trillion in debt,' that it's 'unsustainable' and that 'we have to get our fiscal house in order, and we have to do this for our children and our grandchildren.' Or Rep. Chip Roy (R-Texas), long-time fiscal hawk on the debt, who repeatedly railed against the Big Beautiful Bill's deficit spending in the final stretch. And then he voted for it. Or Sen. Josh Hawley (R-Mo.), known for saying 'we must ignore calls to cut Medicaid' because 'slashing health insurance for the working poor' would be 'both morally and politically suicidal.' That was in May. But come July, Hawley voted to cut Medicaid. The final vote came down to Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-Alaska). In a mid-June town hall, she said, 'I have made clear very early on that we cannot move forward with a bill that makes cuts to Medicaid.' And yet, despite the fact that nearly 40,000 Alaskans (more than 5% of the state's population) will likely lose their healthcare coverage as a direct result of the bill, Murkowski caved. Sarah Longwell, founder and publisher of the Bulwark, spared nothing in her criticism of Murkowski. She wrote that this one action 'defines our pathetic political moment,' embodying: 'Selfishness: I'm taking care of me and mine, the rest of you can pound sand; Lack of accountability: I know the bill is bad, hopefully someone else will fix it; Cowardice: I'm scared of Trump and his voters and need to go-along to get along with my GOP colleagues; Moral rot: I know the difference between right and wrong, and actively chose wrong.' Not exactly Superman. Sounds more like Lex Luthor at his most self-serving and callous. We don't need someone faster than a speeding bullet in the House. We don't need senators leaping tall buildings in a single bound. We don't need Superman. But we do need our Clark Kents and Lois Lanes to step up. We do need our real heroes right now. Maybe Crank or Roy or Hawley or Murkowski will see the movie this weekend. Maybe they'll find some courage for the next vote. Maybe. ML Cavanaugh is the author of the forthcoming book 'Best Scar Wins: How You Can Be More Than You Were Before.' @MLCavanaugh
The Hindu
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
The sound of a superhero: The musical evolution of Superman
There are few things in cinema as unmistakable as John Williams' Superman theme. Since hitting the silver screen in 1978, the character had already flown through four decades of comic book pages, animated reels, and radio waves. But somehow, with just a brass fanfare and three commanding notes, the legendary composer gave the character a voice. Not a literal voice, of course, but a sound. A sonic identity so perfectly fitted it may as well have been stitched into the suit. A melody that told you who's coming before you see the cape. That impossibly proud leitmotif made gravity feel a little more optional. It felt loud enough to shake heaven, yet hopeful enough to reassure Earth. It would go on to be borrowed by composers across decades, each trying in their own way to touch that same electric optimism. What's often forgotten is how hard it is to pull that off. Williams composed not one, but seven thematic ideas for 1978's Superman. But it's the big one — the triumphant, three-note main theme ('Sup-er-man,' if you hum it right) — that embedded itself into our cultural muscle memory. Williams distilled the essence of Superman so perfectly into music, it almost feels discovered — as if the theme had always existed, waiting for a hero to claim it. Before Williams came along, Superman had been bouncing around pop culture for decades, from comic-books to grainy television to the Saturday matinee serials of the 1940s. Sammy Timberg's 'Sup-er-man' triplet that would eventually be immortalised in the Williams score, first appeared in those early Max Fleischer cartoons. But Williams gave it bones, breath and somehow made it feel eternal. Like any good myth, it needed ceremony, so he gave Superman something regal, declarative, and built from the very instruments that history itself has used to signal kings and generals. There's always been something mystical about the way Williams scores identity. His themes feel coded into the character's DNA. The magic here is in the construction: Copland-esque harmonies that call back to wide-open plains and honest labour, Sousa-like romantic rhythms that march with purpose, and orchestration that lets the French horns sing like they believe in something. It comes as close to the ideals of 'truth, justice and the 'American Way'' that Superman originally represented. Not the cynical, postmodern America, but the hopeful, mythic one, a country that wants to believe its heroes are kind. That sense of musical certainty was baked into Superman itself, and a charming young Christopher Reeve wore that sincerity on his chest. Part of what made the project so enjoyable, Williams has said, was how little it took itself seriously, and the music reflected that unabashed grandeur. Reeve once joked that trying to fly without it would get you nowhere. And watching Superman today, it's hard not to agree. But immortality is a complicated thing, and can become a shadow as much as a beacon. So when Man of Steel arrived in 2013, Hans Zimmer did what any seasoned composer would do when asked to reinvent a god and turned away from the sun. This shift was existential, for this was not a theme you would whistle on the way home. In Richard Donner's 1978 vision, heroism was innate, bright and uncomplicated. In Zack Snyder's version, it's fraught, burdened, and deeply ambiguous. So, naturally, the music follows suit. Zimmer introduces Superman with two almost embryonic notes being slowly drawn like a question mark. It's easy to miss them at first, buried in ambient textures, but over the course of the film, that two-note figure returns again and again, reshaped by context. On piano, it's wistful; on strings, it's determined; and on brass, it finally finds its wings. Zimmer's score also avoided leitmotifs in the Wagnerian sense. There's no tight tether between character and phrase and no musical shorthand for the audience to cling to. Instead, Zimmer writes in movements of emotional atmosphere that shift and swirl, gaining intensity as the character does. His Superman score builds, like an argument being made. It asks us to wait. To believe, perhaps, in a new kind of saviour. Zimmer's Superman earns his theme. It's beautiful, in its way. And yet, there's a sense of mourning running through it like an elegy for something more certain and melodic. As compelling as Zimmer's score is, it often feels like it's chasing something it refuses to name. That something, of course, is John Williams. Zimmer once said he avoided referencing Williams out of respect — it would have been, in his words, 'like painting over the Mona Lisa.' And perhaps he was right. But the absence is felt. The Man of Tomorrow, it turned out, still needed the music of yesterday. For all its remastered modernity, Zimmer's theme does still carry that same core idea of hope. However, some would argue that the film itself never fully earns the theme. The darkness of Man of Steel often feels at odds with the light Zimmer is striving to inject into its score. The music wants you to believe, and the film, less so. Ironically, Zimmer's score often works better when divorced from its source—as a sonic idea of Superman, even if the character on screen seems unsure of who he is. Which brings us to now. James Gunn's Superman is already bending the arc back toward something closer to the light. And what do you know, Williams is coming back with him… in spirit at least. Gunn, like many of us, grew up worshipping that soundtrack. He's called it his favourite, saying it was the one part of Superman he carried with him longest. When handed the keys to the DCEU and tasked with helming the new David Corenswet reboot, he asked composer John Murphy to go back to the well. The original melody appears, but on electric guitar, twanged like something out of a dusty American road trip. Then the orchestra steps in, reclaiming the theme with reverence and newness. Williams' original leitmotif was crafted like an edifice built to Greiving, Williams' biographer, put it best when he said the theme feels like it came with Superman from Krypton. And really, how could it not? There's a reason it still plays in PVR bathrooms nearly half a century later. It's lodged in the cultural imagination the way lullabies are. We hum it because it tells us who Superman is, and if we're honest, who we want to be. It's a tricky thing, writing music for someone who can fly, but somehow, across decades and discographies, the message remains the same: Look up. Superman is currently running in theatres
Fox News
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Fox News
Original 'Superman' actor says character should be used to 'bring back the American way of life'
One of the stars of the first two "Superman" movies, Jack O'Halloran, told Fox13 Tampa Bay on Tuesday that he believes the legendary superhero should be used to help "bring back the American way of life" as he prepared to watch the newest iteration of the franchise. O'Halloran claimed that, if used correctly, the Man of Steel could help bring back "the all-American way." "Having the statement of the all-American way, bringing back the American way of life and that's what needs to happen," he said. "If they use Superman correctly, they can accomplish that." The former actor and professional boxer played the towering villain "Non," appearing briefly in the first "Superman" movie, and eventually emerging as one of the stars of "Superman II." As noted by Bounding Into Comics, O'Halloran's patriotic vision of Superman's role in America may stand in contrast to recent remarks made by James Gunn, the director of the new "Superman" movie, and his brother, Sean Gunn. Sean Gunn, who plays Maxwell Lord in the 2025 superhero film, defended his brother on Monday after the director took heat for insisting his movie was political and that Superman is an immigrant in an interview with The Times. "Superman is the story of America," James Gunn told the U.K. outlet. "An immigrant that came from other places and populated the country, but for me, it is mostly a story that says basic human kindness is a value and is something we have lost." He added, "Obviously, there will be jerks out there who are just not kind and will take it as offensive just because it is about kindness. But screw them." While on the red carpet, James Gunn's brother Sean defended the director from "MAGA" people — as Variety described them — being critical of his recent pro-immigrant statements. Neither the interviewer, nor Gunn, made any distinction between legal or illegal immigrants. "My reaction to [the backlash] is that it is exactly what the movie is about," Gunn said. "We support our people, you know? We love our immigrants. Yes, Superman is an immigrant, and yes, the people that we support in this country are immigrants and if you don't like that, you're not American." Sean Gunn added that "people who say no to immigrants are against the American way." In similar fashion, MIT professor Junot Diaz said in a guest essay for The New York Times that Superman's "overwhelming all-American power" was disturbing, explaining the paradoxical identities associated with the iconic character as an immigrant. "In fact, I was something of the neighborhood anti-Superman," Diaz wrote in his essay, reflecting on his childhood. "From Day 1, dude just rubbed me the wrong way. There was the obvious stuff, like how goofy Superman was as a hero, how ridiculously dated his star-spangled patriotism was — Supes loved a country I'd never seen. My landfill America was way more supervillain territory," he said.
