Not So Superman

I admit it: there are times Ifeel pop culture has left me in the dust. Am I just too old to have fun? I hadheard many good things about the latest Superman film, written anddirected by James Gunn, whose Guardians of the Galaxy had amused me agreat deal. My tastes tend to run toward the intellectual, but—for a complete changeof pace—I do enjoy extravaganzas with a side order of goofiness.

And everything I read aboutthis particular Clark Kent/Superman combo seemed hugely appealing. I liked thefact that Gunn had apparently chosen to sidestep the angst-ridden, cynicalSuperman of several recent iterations and made HIS superhero a bit of a dork,or at least a gentle, upstanding guy with slightly old-fashioned tastes.

 

It sounded interesting, in thisday and age, that as a result of Lex Luthor’s machinations this Superman wouldcome to be reviled by the public as an alien, a dangerous representativeof another culture who has illegally invaded Earth. (The complaints in somequarters that this Superman is too “woke” don’t make much sense, in that Gunn’ssuperhero is far more connected with his folksy midwestern adoptive parentsthan with the pair who sent him to Earth as their own planet facedannihilation.) 

 

I also heard many plauditsfor Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois Lane, as a worthy successor to the smart, spunkyMargot Kidder back in the Christopher Reeve days. I too was impressed byBrosnahan (who, with her throaty voice, SOUNDS like Kidder, but has a contemporarysassiness all her own). The surprise in this version is that she knows fullwell about Clark Kent’s secret identity, and is not above questioning hisvalues and his methods—in the name of journalistic integrity, you understand.Spoiler alert: she concludes that she’s really into him, despite it all.

 

But I can’t agree with thecritics and fans who have oohed and aahed over the presence of the wonder-dogKrypto. Gunn apparently got the idea for inserting Krypto into the story afterhe himself adopted a pandemic rescue dog with a great talent for screwingthings up. Gunn’s tales about the exploits of his own computer-eating Ozu arehilarious, but I felt no particular affection for the clearly animatronicwonder-pup who nearly kills Superman while trying to come to his rescue. (Yes,this Superman needs rescuing more than once: we first see him immediately afterhis first-ever defeat by a superhuman bad guy, and he seems to get knockedaround a lot.)

 

So what’s the gist of thisparticular Superman film? I’ve heard critics say joyfully that this isthe Superman of their comic-book-centric childhoods. For me, alas, it’sa loud, long, noisy bounce from midwestern corn (in all senses) to eerie Arcticwasteland to ravaged metropolis to a futuristic “pocket universe” gulag enteredthrough a desert campsite where all of Lex Luthor’s minions wear cheery Alohashirts. I couldn’t always follow it. Nor, honestly, did I want to.

 

The comic-book world ofsuperheroes has been with us since the 1930s. For young boys, in particular,characters like Superman, Batman, and Captain America have promised vicariousadventures and a well-developed sense of right vs. wrong. Hollywood in recentyears has benefitted hugely from its superhero connections, and—with movieattendance now flagging—

this year’s Superman andFantastic Four flicks are much needed. But why does it all have to seemso silly? (I’ve just learned that James Gunn began his career with LloydKaufman’s Tromeo and Juliet, full of severed limbs and possibly thestupidest film I’ve ever walked out on.)