Latest news with #Krypton
The Verge
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Verge
Superman's Fortress of Solitude is a Silver Age man cave inspired by nature's beauty
James Gunn knows that most people are familiar with Superman's origin story, which is why DC Studios' new feature about the Man of Steel opens at a point when he has already become a world famous superhero. Instead of rehashing the tragic beats of Krypton's destruction, the movie is punctuated with moments that show you how deeply Superman cherishes the few remaining pieces of his homeworld. He loves his Kryptonian family crest and his out-of-control superdog. But the most impressive and alien keepsake that Clark Kent holds close to his heart is a massive stronghold buried deep beneath the ice in Antarctica. The Fortress of Solitude (which originated in Street & Smith's Doc Savage pulps from the 1930s) has been part of Superman's lore since the Golden Age of comics, when it was first introduced as a hidden citadel tucked into a mountainside by Metropolis. Over the years, the Fortress has been located in a variety of places and taken on different forms, but Gunn's Superman presents the structure as most people know it — a gleaming cluster of gargantuan crystals situated in the frozen wilderness. Everything about the Fortress is so grand and otherworldly that one could easily assume that DC Studios would have elected to create the whole thing with VFX. There are digital elements to the new Superman's take on the Fortress, but Gunn has always been a fan of practically created effects. Having worked with Gunn on The Suicide Squad, The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special, and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, production designer Beth Mickle was intimately familiar with his filmmaking sensibilities. Mickle could see Gunn's vision for a Superman movie that was modern but nostalgic and vibrant like a classic comic book. When I spoke with Mickle recently about her work on Superman, she told me that creating the new Fortress of Solitude wasn't just difficult — it was an exercise in patience and experimentation. Mickle was certain that going the practical route would result in a much more magical final product, but she wasn't always sure how she and the rest of Superman's production team would pull it off. 'I've been on those sets where it's just a full blue screen and the poor actor is sitting there looking at a blue tennis ball, trying to figure out how they're supposed to be reacting to it,' Mickle said. 'I feel like, no matter what, practicality comes across in the filmmaking and in the performances. But it's really tough to pull practicality like this off seamlessly.' Like Gunn, Mickle was a big fan of Richard Donner's first Superman film, in which Christopher Reeves' Clark Kent summons the Fortress of Solitude by tossing a green crystal into Arctic waters. Though she wanted to pay homage to the 1978 classic, Mickle was also interested in exploring how else the Fortress could be depicted. 'I started looking at the way that crystals sometimes grow naturally from rocks, where they kind of splay upward and have this propulsive, explosive feel,' Mickle explained. 'I thought to myself, 'You know, that actually feels a bit like Superman, exploding up into the sky.'' Mickle's ideas about the Fortress as a crystalline eruption also got her thinking about nature and how the structure's shape could be inspired by things like the ocean and the way that sprays of water can freeze in mid-air in the right conditions. Photographs of crashing waves gave Mickle a general idea of what the Fortress' silhouette should look like from a distance. But for the building's interior, Mickle turned to DC's Silver Age comics from the '50s and '60s — an era that depicted the Fortress, as Gunn described it, as 'Superman's man cave.' 'In those comics, the Fortress is where Superman has his lab set up to do experiments, and he's got a zoo of all the interplanetary plant life and animals he comes across,' Mickle said. 'Once we had committed to the Silver Age visual reference, we started looking at a lot of beautiful, mid-century, minimalist, Frank Lloyd Wright-style interiors for more inspiration. That helped us figure out the multilevel, terraced layout that our Fortress has.' From there, the creative team had to decide where the crystals would go and how they would make the ethereal, translucent pillars. The crew spent about three months on research and development into different methods of using resin to build the Fortress of Solitude piece by piece. There were plenty of hiccups early on. Many of the larger resin crystals — which ranged in length from 12 to 40 feet — would crumble under their own weight or require a certain kind of ribbing to maintain their shape that was too visible to use on film. As other parts of the Fortress' interior were being constructed on a soundstage in Atlanta, Mickle's team was trying to figure out how to get the crystals to work. And at one point, she contemplated something a bit more elementary. 'After one sleepless night, I asked my art director, 'Would it be crazy to actually build this out of real ice and just keep the stage really chilled?'' Mickle recalled. 'We both laughed at the absurdity of it, but in that moment of desperation, I was like, 'I don't know, do we bring in ice sculptures?'' In the end, Mickle and construction coordinator Chris Snyder developed a resin pouring method that, while more involved, resulted in crystals that were strong enough to work with. Rather than pouring the resin to make single columns, the team began pouring them as halves, letting them dry, and then bonding them together afterward. This had the added benefit of giving the crystals an unintentional shimmering luster that was in line with the film's aesthetic. While all 242 of the crystals now looked great, the next hurdle was getting them positioned to evoke that explosive, propulsive feel that Mickle aimed for. To resemble naturally forming crystals, the resin pillars needed to splay out at various angles. But because the pillars are translucent and backlit, rigging them with internal framing would have broken the fantastical illusion. That kind of internal framing could have been edited out digitally, but Mickle and the team opted for something more analog. 'We actually hung aircraft cable from the ceiling and put a little pick point on the top of each of the crystals,' Mickle explained. 'We would put a crystal on its little metal base, lean it to whatever angle we wanted it to be, and then we would have a little point at the very top of the crystal that was attached to the aircraft cable so it would lock it to that exact space.' Even though it sometimes felt like an uphill battle, Mickle said that she loved the explorational element of building it, and she's excited to learn what else Gunn has planned for the franchise — especially when it comes to the weird and fantastical. 'I really loved the fantasy worlds here, and it was really fun getting to dive into the pocket universe of it all with Lex,' Mickle said. 'We did a lot of that in Guardians of the Galaxy, and it'll be fun to see if there's opportunity to do stuff like that with any of the upcoming DC work. It'll be an exploration for all of us.' Posts from this author will be added to your daily email digest and your homepage feed. See All by Charles Pulliam-Moore Posts from this topic will be added to your daily email digest and your homepage feed. See All Entertainment Posts from this topic will be added to your daily email digest and your homepage feed. See All Film Posts from this topic will be added to your daily email digest and your homepage feed. See All Interview Posts from this topic will be added to your daily email digest and your homepage feed. See All Report
Gizmodo
21-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Gizmodo
I Love That ‘Superman' Loves Journalism
James Gunn's Superman operates on a litany of fantasies: a world where superpowered individuals have existed for centuries and roam among us, a world where the public almost universally loves a singular alien who has come to planet Earth to uplift and protect humanity's greatest ideals in the name of a better tomorrow. Those are key suspensions of disbelief for practically every superhero movie. But in stark contrast to that, its other key pillar in that suspension is much more down to earth: that modern journalism can be universally accepted to save the day as much as any superhero between all the pocket universe destruction, Kryptonian drama, and superhuman scrapping, Superman is perhaps one of the most surprisingly effective pop culture movies about journalism in a very long time. Comic book characters have long had a history with working in the news industry, from alter egos like Clark himself to Peter Parker, or human allies like Vicki Vale, Lois Lane, Ben Urich, Robbie Robertson, and many more, but more often than not their journalistic backgrounds have to take a backstep to the necessity of a superhero story (especially for heroes themselves, when ethical concerns come into play). Superman does play with the tension of this conflict briefly, although largely to similarly ignore it as the comics do—both Clark and Lois touch upon the conflicts of interest they have in both dating each other and their knowledge of Superman's secret identity; Jimmy Olsen's huge report on Lex Luthor's connection to the Boravian invasion of Jarhanpur is predicated on damning evidence from a source he was previously romantically involved with, information he exchanges on the promise of a weekend-length date with said source. We never know if the latter's report discloses that fact, and it seems Lois never runs anything from her bombshell interview with Clark in the opening act of the film—presumably because in an ideal world she would have to disclose or recuse herself from reporting on it given her personal relationship with the subject. But the fact that Superman even remotely cares about that speaks to its broader interest in journalism, and in particular journalism as a tool of public good. Clark and Lois' first major scene together in the film takes place over an interview at the latter's apartment, after Lois chides Clark that laundering his reputation as the Daily Planet's premiere Superman reporter means just giving himself easy, uninteresting questions to answer. It's a delightful scene to watch from a journalism perspective, even putting aside the hypocrisy of Lois knocking Clark for reporting on himself before proceeding to interview her own romantic partner. Both Clark and Lois take on personas here: the former stops being Clark and 'becomes' Superman, both talking about himself in the third person and adopting the body language and tone he has when he is in costume. But just as importantly, Lois separates herself from being a flirtatious girlfriend (as much as she can outside of, again, removing herself from the interview entirely as a conflict of interest) and becomes 'Ms. Lane,' investigative reporter at the Daily Planet. Aside from including the most concise explanation of how being 'on the record' works with a reporter to ever hit a superhero movie (whenever Superman hits home release, I yearn to clip and send that soundbite to half the contacts in my inbox), the back-and-forth between Lois and Clark frames their interview as, rightfully, Lois speaking truth to Superman's power as a superhuman, godlike entity on the level of nation states like Boravia or corporations like LutherCorp. And that is what Superman is, she argues much to Clark's frustration, if he is going to make unilateral decisions to intervene in international conflicts: a power that a good reporter will question and hold to account. The scene even subtly has Lois navigate the thorny compromise of conducting this interview from a detached perspective, even if the framing of her questions doesn't necessarily align with her own personal beliefs. As she says to Clark at one point, she can't trust Boravia's claims of wanting to liberate Jarhanpur from an authoritarian regime, but as a reporter, she has to allow for that claim to be as valid as Superman's claim that his intervention was the only alternative to save lives. It's a fascinating acknowledgement of public criticism of media impartiality in our own world, an especially delicate act to balance given readings of Superman's Boravia-Jarhanpur conflict as a parallel to the likes of the Russian invasion of Ukraine or Israel's occupation of Gaza (and in particular for that latter reading, criticism of the media's failure to report on Israel's campaign as a genocide). And this is in a superhero movie where a questionably-haircutted Nathan Fillion fights a giant kaiju and summons emerald constructs of pure will in the shape of one-finger salutes! But the reality of journalism on display in that scene between Lois and Clark isn't really the fantasy that sits along the comic book fantasy of superheroes in Superman. Amidst the chaos of the movie's third act of Metropolis being torn apart by Lex Luthor's pocket universe rift, the real stakes of the movie coalesce around Lois and Jimmy's report on Luthor's relationship with the Boravian president, Vasil Ghurkos. Literally filing directly into the Daily Planet's CMS (that's a Content Management System, for those not in the know—from one CMS writer to another, kudos to Mr. Olsen for living the risk of not drafting in the DC equivalent of Google Docs!), from Mr. Terrific's ship, the Planet team launches their article with immediate impact. The report is all over the news and has as much, if not more, sway in turning public opinion back in Superman's favor as Clark literally whizzing around saving lives and trying to stop Metropolis from splitting in half does. The report has direct consequences leading to Lex Luthor's arrest: the Daily Planet is arguably as crucial to saving the day in Superman's finale as the titular hero himself is. In a modern journalism environment where outlets across the industry are shuttering every day, battling the rise of generative AI, or simply trying to navigate a sociopolitical environment that has become increasingly siloed in the echo chambers of a 'post-truth' world, the fact that the Daily Planet survives and thrives in the importance of its mission perhaps requires as much suspension of disbelief as a man who's faster than a speeding bullet and can leap buildings in a single bound. (And that any reporter at what appears to be a primarily print media news organization can afford either Lois Lane's or Clark Kent's apartments, but that's beside the point). Want more io9 news? Check out when to expect the latest Marvel, Star Wars, and Star Trek releases, what's next for the DC Universe on film and TV, and everything you need to know about the future of Doctor Who.
The Guardian
21-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
What the culture war over Superman gets wrong
We've entered the era of the superhero movie as sermon. No longer content with saving the world, spandex saviors are now being used to explain, moralize and therapize it. And a being from Krypton has shown up once again in a debate about real life; about borders, race and who gets to belong. Superman. Of all symbols. I've read reactionary thinkpieces, rage-filled quote tweets and screeds about the legal status of a fictional alien – enough to lose count. This particular episode of American Fragility kicked off because James Gunn had the audacity to call Superman 'the story of America'. An immigrant, by definition, as he was always meant to be. What set things off wasn't just the sentiment – it was who said it, and how plainly. Gunn, now headlining DC's cinematic future, told the Sunday Times that Superman was 'an immigrant who came from other places and populated the country'. He spoke of Superman's inherent kindness as a political statement in itself, noting that the film would play differently in some parts of America before adding, bluntly, that 'there are some jerks out there who are just not kind and will take it as offensive just because it is about kindness'. 'But screw them,' he added. It was that line – less the immigrant metaphor, more the unapologetic framing – that sent the usual outrage machine into motion. Enter Dean Cain, a former TV Superman. Cain accused Gunn of politicizing the character, which is remarkably foolish, considering Superman's been swatting at fascism since 1941. Meanwhile, over at Fox News, it's been a full meltdown over the idea that Superman, canonically not of this Earth, might be played as … not of this Earth. Liberal brainwashing, they suggested. Identity politics in a cape. But have they actually looked at David Corenswet? The man looks like he was made to sell oat milk in a Ralph Lauren ad. All cheekbones and cleft chin. If this is the foreign body in question, no wonder middle America has historically shrugged over Supes being an immigrant by definition. Even still, there's something telling about any collective gasp over a white, blue-eyed man with an immigrant backstory. The scramble to defend him says more than intended. For all the hand-wringing over Superman's alienness, what rarely gets named is how meticulously his story was crafted to cushion the unease of the topic at hand: otherness itself – the very thing people pretend was always central to his character. There are plenty of ways to frame the ridiculousness of this argument, clever ways to connect the dots, but the real fracture in Superman's myth hits, oddly enough, during a quiet scene in Tarantino's meditation on vengeance, Kill Bill: Vol. 2. In the scene, the villain, Bill (David Carradine) unpacks what makes Superman different from every other hero. 'What Kent wears – the glasses, the business suit – that's the costume,' Bill says. 'That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us.' It's one hell of a tell – the kind of observation that pulls back the curtain on how Superman was engineered to understand the world, and how the world, in turn, reinforced how he should fit within it. From the start, Superman was never meant to be an outsider. His creators, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster – sons of Jewish immigrants – didn't craft him as a symbol of difference but as a projection of pure Americanness. They gave him a midwestern upbringing, an Anglo name in Clark Kent, and that square-jawed charm. Siegel and Shuster were working against the backdrop of unchecked antisemitism, at a time when Jewish immigrants faced hostility. But instead of exploring immigrant 'otherness', the artists imagined a version of America where that alienness could be easily discarded via an outfit change. Superman wasn't an outsider – he was the ideal immigrant, effortlessly slipping into a world that required no resistance. His story wasn't about struggling to belong, but about the fantasy of belonging, with the privilege of choosing whether or not to fight for it. That projection of safe, silent Americanness hasn't remained confined to the pages of comic books. Today's immigration politics run on the same fantasy. The myth of the 'good' immigrant – quiet, grateful, easy to assimilate – still runs wild. It's the same story that fuels the strange spectacle of politicians praising white South African farmers as victims of racial persecution, all while demonizing migrants from Latin America, the Middle East or sub-Saharan Africa. The notion of who deserves to stay has always been racialized, selective and violent. Tom Homan, Trump's border czar, has said that a person's physical appearance could be a factor in the decision to question them. He later said it could not be 'the sole reason'. But in April, Juan Carlos Lopez-Gomez, a US-born citizen from Georgia, was detained in Florida even after his mother showed authorities his birth certificate. In New York, Elzon Lemus, an electrician, was stopped because he 'looked like someone' agents were after. Maybe he didn't wear his suit and glasses that day. Superman, the immigrant who makes people comfortable, has never been just a comic book character. He's been a metaphor and living testament to the kind of 'other' that wealthy nations have always preferred: those who blend in, assimilate and rarely challenge the systems that demand their silence. If you're still not convinced that Superman's assimilationist fantasy is alive and well, just look at a White House meme from 10 July 2025: Trump dressed as Superman, with the words 'Truth. Justice. The American Way.' It's a glaring example of how cultural symbols are repurposed – hijacked, really – to serve a narrow and self-congratulatory vision of America. That's the trick of Superman: he's been a blank canvas of a both-sides heroism, which makes everyone feel seen. You don't even need to like or dislike Superman for the Maga debate to pull you in, as it was always meant to. The culture war still appointed a celebrity to govern the most powerful nation on Earth. It still turned a corporate diversity initiative into a national crisis. And it took a serious conversation about immigration and made a polished, all-American character its face. The culture war distorts, and it continues, relentless as ever. Noel Ransome is a Toronto-based freelance writer
The Guardian
20-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
What the culture war over Superman gets wrong
We've entered the era of the superhero movie as sermon. No longer content with saving the world, spandex saviors are now being used to explain, moralize and therapize it. And a being from Krypton has shown up once again in a debate about real life; about borders, race and who gets to belong. Superman. Of all symbols. I've read reactionary thinkpieces, rage-filled quote tweets and screeds about the legal status of a fictional alien – enough to lose count. This particular episode of American Fragility kicked off because James Gunn had the audacity to call Superman 'the story of America'. An immigrant, by definition, as he was always meant to be. What set things off wasn't just the sentiment – it was who said it, and how plainly. Gunn, now headlining DC's cinematic future, told the Sunday Times that Superman was 'an immigrant who came from other places and populated the country'. He spoke of Superman's inherent kindness as a political statement in itself, noting that the film would play differently in some parts of America before adding, bluntly, that 'there are some jerks out there who are just not kind and will take it as offensive just because it is about kindness'. 'But screw them,' he added. It was that line – less the immigrant metaphor, more the unapologetic framing – that sent the usual outrage machine into motion. Enter Dean Cain, a former TV Superman. Cain accused Gunn of politicizing the character, which is remarkably foolish, considering Superman's been swatting at fascism since 1941. Meanwhile, over at Fox News, it's been a full meltdown over the idea that Superman, canonically not of this Earth, might be played as … not of this Earth. Liberal brainwashing, they suggested. Identity politics in a cape. But have they actually looked at David Corenswet? The man looks like he was made to sell oat milk in a Ralph Lauren ad. All cheekbones and cleft chin. If this is the foreign body in question, no wonder middle America has historically shrugged over Supes being an immigrant by definition. Even still, there's something telling about any collective gasp over a white, blue-eyed man with an immigrant backstory. The scramble to defend him says more than intended. For all the hand-wringing over Superman's alienness, what rarely gets named is how meticulously his story was crafted to cushion the unease of the topic at hand: otherness itself – the very thing people pretend was always central to his character. There are plenty of ways to frame the ridiculousness of this argument, clever ways to connect the dots, but the real fracture in Superman's myth hits, oddly enough, during a quiet scene in Tarantino's meditation on vengeance, Kill Bill: Vol. 2. In the scene, the villain, Bill (David Carradine) unpacks what makes Superman different from every other hero. 'What Kent wears – the glasses, the business suit – that's the costume,' Bill says. 'That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us.' It's one hell of a tell – the kind of observation that pulls back the curtain on how Superman was engineered to understand the world, and how the world, in turn, reinforced how he should fit within it. From the start, Superman was never meant to be an outsider. His creators, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster – sons of Jewish immigrants – didn't craft him as a symbol of difference but as a projection of pure Americanness. They gave him a midwestern upbringing, an Anglo name in Clark Kent, and that square-jawed charm. Siegel and Shuster were working against the backdrop of unchecked antisemitism, at a time when Jewish immigrants faced hostility. But instead of exploring immigrant 'otherness', the artists imagined a version of America where that alienness could be easily discarded via an outfit change. Superman wasn't an outsider – he was the ideal immigrant, effortlessly slipping into a world that required no resistance. His story wasn't about struggling to belong, but about the fantasy of belonging, with the privilege of choosing whether or not to fight for it. That projection of safe, silent Americanness hasn't remained confined to the pages of comic books. Today's immigration politics run on the same fantasy. The myth of the 'good' immigrant – quiet, grateful, easy to assimilate – still runs wild. It's the same story that fuels the strange spectacle of politicians praising white South African farmers as victims of racial persecution, all while demonizing migrants from Latin America, the Middle East or sub-Saharan Africa. The notion of who deserves to stay has always been racialized, selective and violent. Tom Homan, Trump's border czar, has said that a person's physical appearance could be a factor in the decision to question them. He later said it could not be 'the sole reason'. But in April, Juan Carlos Lopez-Gomez, a US-born citizen from Georgia, was detained in Florida even after his mother showed authorities his birth certificate. In New York, Elzon Lemus, an electrician, was stopped because he 'looked like someone' agents were after. Maybe he didn't wear his suit and glasses that day. Superman, the immigrant who makes people comfortable, has never been just a comic book character. He's been a metaphor and living testament to the kind of 'other' that wealthy nations have always preferred: those who blend in, assimilate and rarely challenge the systems that demand their silence. If you're still not convinced that Superman's assimilationist fantasy is alive and well, just look at a White House meme from 10 July 2025: Trump dressed as Superman, with the words 'Truth. Justice. The American Way.' It's a glaring example of how cultural symbols are repurposed – hijacked, really – to serve a narrow and self-congratulatory vision of America. That's the trick of Superman: he's been a blank canvas of a both-sides heroism, which makes everyone feel seen. You don't even need to like or dislike Superman for the Maga debate to pull you in, as it was always meant to. The culture war still appointed a celebrity to govern the most powerful nation on Earth. It still turned a corporate diversity initiative into a national crisis. And it took a serious conversation about immigration and made a polished, all-American character its face. The culture war distorts, and it continues, relentless as ever. Noel Ransome is a Toronto-based freelance writer
Daily Maverick
18-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Maverick
Up, up and hooray! Superman is a refreshing joy
With Superman, filmmaker James Gunn brings the focus back to the 'man' as much as the 'super,' says Kervyn Cloete — and yes, there's room for fun too. The result is a strong start for the new DC Universe. While it still has its defenders, the general consensus is that Zack Snyder's DCEU ended with a whimper rather than a bang. But as the old adage goes, the one upside to being at the bottom is that there's nowhere else to go but up. And in the case of Superman, that's up, up and away! Ushering in a brand-new DC Comics cinematic universe faster than a speeding bullet, Superman is DC Studios co-head and writer/director James Gunn's soaring effort to achieve something you would think is simple, but which somehow has been fairly elusive: Make a comic book movie. Many filmmakers – including Gunn himself – have given us amazing cinematic adaptations and interpretations of our beloved comic books, but very rarely do they feel like a comic book in movie form. In Snyder's own work he was a master at capturing splash page visuals, but seldom tapped into the voices of the characters and their worlds. Watching Gunn's Superman, though, feels as close to grabbing a random issue of Action Comics off the rack as this writer has ever experienced. And much like opening that first title page of a comic, a rather succinct on-screen text is all that sets up this entire new universe, introducing us to a Clark Kent (David Corenswet) already three years into his public career as Superman. No exploding Krypton here. This is a world where superpowered metahumans are commonplace and the Man of Steel's rivalry with Metropolis's resident genius billionaire Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult) is already fired up. Clark's romantic relationship with Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan), his 'punk rock' journalist co-worker at the Daily Planet, is also a fair bit along – although, hilariously, not as secretive as they seem to think it is. Into this, Gunn adds a colourful ensemble cast (including the obligatory 'Superman's friend' everyman), that classic comic book trope of Superman getting involved in global politics, zany science-fiction concepts (Pocket universes! Anti-proton rivers!), some wildly dynamic slobberknocker action beats, and an unabashed heaping of golly-shucks corn-fed charm. Most notably, this superhero movie features a hero being heroic. I would be remiss not to mention how important that concept is right now, given the state of our world. I can't think of a better time to be reminded that doing what is right is often not easy, but it is always necessary, even in the face of crippling personal doubts and societal pressures. If you think that sounds preachy, it's because it is. But Superman has been dishing out morality lessons directly to the audience since his inception in the 1940s. Why it works here – and where this Superman differs so much from some previous on-screen incarnations – is humanity. This is not an all-powerful deity swathed in godly raiment speaking down to scraggly mortals from his lofty moral mountaintop. Gunn has remembered that along with the 'super' comes the 'man'. David Corenswet as Superman in 'SUPERMAN,' a Warner Bros. Pictures release. All of that would fall apart, though, if not presented sincerely. And luckily, in Corenswet Gunn has found a very likeable and charismatic lead actor who is not only able to play both Clark and Superman effectively, but his innate humanity and all the complex emotions that come with that shine through in every frame. With a suit as well designed as his personality (drawing heavy inspiration from the Superman creative greats like Jerry Siegel, Joe Schuster, John Byrne, Curt Swan, Dan Jurgens, Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely and Gary Frank), he is as effortlessly at home fighting giant monsters as he is having his first big lover's fight with Lois. It certainly helps that Corenswet and Brosnahan's chemistry together is more powerful than a locomotive. Hoult's villainous Luthor also skilfully straddles a fine line between sympathetic and moustache-twirling, with the young actor clearly having a blast as he makes his energetic hatred of Superman almost understandable, if not agreeable. The cast is rounded out by fellow heroes Michael Holt/Mr Terrific (Edi Gathegi), Guy Gardner/Green Lantern (Nathan Fillion) and Kendra Saunders/Hawkgirl (Isabela Merced), cub reporter Jimmy Olsen (Skyler Gisondo), Daily Planet editor-in-chief Perry White (Wendel Pierce), not-so-good-boy Krypto the Super-dog, metahuman Rex Mason/Metamorpho (Anthony Carrigan), Luthor's girlfriend Eve Tessmacher (Sara Sampaio), Luthorcorp henchwoman and future member of The Authority Angela Spica/The Engineer (María Gabriela de Faría), Ma and Pa Kent (Neva Howell and Pruitt Taylor Vince), and more. That's a lot. And I haven't even mentioned the surprise cameos. With a two-hour runtime, it means that most of the cast outside of the top three billings of Corenswet, Brosnahan and Hoult don't really get a lot of screen real estate to establish themselves fully. The exception here is undoubtedly Mr Terrific, whose constant scene-stealing will quickly erase the disappointing memory of the last time he was adapted on screen (Sorry, Arrowverse fans). (L to R) Nathan Fillion as Guy Gardner, Isabela Merced as Hawkgirl and Edi Gathegi as Mr. Terrific in DC Studios' and Warner Bros. Pictures' 'SUPERMAN,' a Warner Bros. Pictures release. With all of those things to juggle, though, it does mean that Superman is not a perfect movie. The central plot through-line often feels a bit muddled, and you can see even how even the world's strongest hero starts to buckle slightly under the weight of setting up an entire universe. It also doesn't help that Gunn doesn't know to get out of his own way at times – his now signature needle drops and some mild but still jarring strong language feel out of place. And staying with the music, it's disappointing that composers John Murphy and David Fleming's score is not better, given this franchise's iconic history. Following in the footsteps of John Williams and Hans Zimmer is a herculean task, and the effort here is certainly not without merit, but by choosing to build a main theme around Williams's historic jingle, we end up with a score that just feels like some hastily copied homework. Despite these discordant parts, though, there's one thing that Gunn nails from the film's very first opening moments right to its two post-credit scenes (neither of which is narratively important, I might add), and that's fun! Superman is a refreshing joy to experience. It's playful and imaginative in all the best ways, never showing a scrap of embarrassment for wearing its heart on its blue sleeve as it sets out to inspire goodness in people. Embracing its comic book roots, delightful goofiness and all, with gusto, it's a Superman movie made by somebody who clearly loves Superman. A wild concept, I know, but it doesn't just work – it soars! DM
