Dylan Masvidal | Staff Writer
I’m sick.
After visiting my doctor this morning, I’ve been informed that I’ve a severe case of love for my fellow man and hope for the future of humanity, thanks to James Gunn’s new take on DC’s poster child, “Superman”.
The problem: I don’t ever want to get better.
Nobody touch me, or I might spontaneously combust from pure joy.
It took Hollywood almost half a century to make him feel both super and man again, but I digress.
Before my inner child can grab hold of my extremities, there are a few stains on the cape worth mentioning.
Gunn’s decision to begin the film with a text crawl is at odds with his insistence on skipping the traditional origin story formalities that are typically found in a first installment.
Opening with expository text, unless you’re George Lucas or James Cameron, gives the impression of laziness, a trait this script does not suffer from.
While I bought into the ballsy, all gas, no breaks pacing it was operating under, to remind the audience of what it’s intentionally omitting makes you wonder if any of those extra minutes could have been allocated towards more scenes of Clark Kent’s life outside the costume.
Very little screen time is given to his secret identity and how he interacts with the supporting cast who aren’t aware he’s the Man of Tomorrow, specifically his friendship with Jimmy Olsen and the entire Daily Planet crew.
Only time will tell if the inevitable sequel emphasizes this part of Superman as a narrative cornerstone.
Where my short list of grievances ends, the goofy smile on my face widens from all that “Superman” does right.
Lord, how do I begin?
Not since the days of Phil Jackson’s Chicago Bulls have we seen a triangle offense executed to perfection between Superman (David Corenswet), Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan) and Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult).
It’s as if the original characters leapt off the page and used their respective performer as a vessel.
The classic “will they, won’t they” dynamic for Clark and Lois is instead replaced with a relationship at a standstill, worried about taking the next step.
Sparks are flying in every direction when they share a scene, except there’s this uncertainty from Lois, played with a refreshing frankness from Brosnahan, on whether or not she can be with someone who shares virtually none of her skepticism and radiates with optimism.
Hoult’s performance as Lex takes inspiration from a particularly vile nature made infamous by Antonio Salieri and Kendrick Lamar.
Every venomous verbal jab directed towards Superman could eat through steel.
His hatred towards him and what he represents is visually shown via the unholy contortioning of his face and the strength with which he grinds his teeth to dust.
One could argue he’s the MVP of this trio, yet I’m sticking with Corenswet’s portrayal of the titular hero as my vote.
Think of the words “endearing” and earnest”; now imagine they hooked up to conceive a human child.
Corenswet isn’t playing Superman; he is Superman.
Believe the hype surrounding his profound modesty because it couldn’t be more deserved.
What makes his character all the more enchanting is how other supporting characters become a beacon of the film’s clear-cut theme when his presence or absence is felt.
My hard-wired reference brain couldn’t help but draw parallels between Edi Gathegi’s Mr. Terrific and Dragon Ball Z’s Piccolo: two scene-stealing, borderline cocky battle technicians who have grown a soft spot for the virtuous champion of their world.
Even Superman’s “foster” dog Krypto is in many ways emblematic of mankind.
He’s destructive and rarely does what he’s told, yet his desire to be compassionate and unwavering loyalty is ultimately worth fighting for.
These components are juiced up thanks to the movie’s bright cinematic language, utilizing a variety of rich colors and an ultra-wide lens.
Intimate conversations are framed with an inter-dimensional imp caught in the middle, symbolizing “the elephant in the room”.
The quaint quality of the Kent farm is made potent through dazzling lens flares and comforting blue skies.
Whimsy is as present in the action sequences as horrific savagery, where every punch, slam and bumpy takeoff puts a shock to your system.
To the squeamish out there, bring a barf bag to those 4DX screenings.
Once the credits rolled on “Superman”, you could feel the connotation behind the term “superhero movie” strikingly shift, in a similar, albeit still distinct fashion to Matt Reeves’ “The Batman”.
Kids and adults alike are walking out of the theater having just seen a two-hour homage to the Saturday morning cartoons of the past.
That brings a tear to my eye.
Checkmate, Marvel, you’re staring down the barrel of a Gunn.
9/10
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