Movie poster for “Supergirl” | Courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures
Dylan Masvidal | Staff Writer
The last time a Supergirl movie was in theaters, ordinary people believed they could fly.
Not because of fighter jets or some breakthrough in human evolution, but through the power of special effects and tight spandex.
Comic book movies are still trying to catch up to “Superman” (1978) and its mythical verisimilitude. With such an immense shadow cast on an entire genre, the pressure to escape it only doubles when you’re part of the same family.
Supergirl’s first outing crumbled under the weight of expectations left by her cousin. There isn’t one aspect of the film that was safe from ridicule, as lead Helen Slater’s charisma vacuum presence laid waste to Peter O’Toole and Faye Dunaway’s best efforts.
More than 40 years later, “Supergirl” (2026) is nowhere near the dookie delight, yet to an extent, I wish it was.
Unlike its predecessor, which was doomed from the start, this James Gunn-produced tour around the galaxy hums at lightspeed, most notably in the first hour.
Director Craig Gillespie has found success in being a chameleon of style. If he’s not channeling Martin Scorsese in “I, Tonya”, the many Aaron Sorkinisms of “Dumb Money” get him his fix.
Once Milly Alcock’s Kara replenishes her blasé attitude with space booze for the first time, Gillespie shows his cards right away: this is a Star Wars movie.
Astonishing makeup work, planetary public transit being used as a set piece to mimic an Old West train heist, cutesy alien puppetry; I found myself having fun with Gillespie’s George Lucas impression.
Any sci-fi filmmaker with true gumption should find an excuse to incorporate a scene where their protagonist has to turn down the advances of a practical blob creature.
Alcock dominates moments like these along with just about every other second of screentime, playing Kara with a magnetic edge that never feels forced. Writer Ana Nogueira’s script doesn’t do her any favors, shoehorning a bulk of her backstory at the film’s halfway point with the subtlety of a carnival barker, and still, Alcock prevails.
The same cannot be said for Eve Ridley’s Ruthye, whose revenge quest has the emotional depth of a pasta bowl despite being the catalyst for Kara’s “spiritual journey”.
A grave issue indeed, one I was willing to overlook thanks to the swift pace that doubled down on its rompy tone.
Jason Momoa’s appearance as Lobo certainly helps this case, embodying the character like if you shook him right out of a comic panel. He never drops his classic catchphrase, but the way he puffs a stogie is so fragging sweet.
So what makes “Supergirl” so frustratingly mediocre then? How about a cataclysmic closing stretch to answer your question.
I’m talking about the most serious case of Murphy’s law in a superhero movie since “The Flash”. Blame one or blame them all, whoever is responsible for this full-frontal assault of poor decision making needs to be scanned for brain worms.
Kicking Kara out of the story to force a triumphant return during the climax is a domino effect of convoluted plot choices, like having Ruthye be captured by the brutish antagonist Krem, who isn’t even worth a mention, to be conveniently in the same prison hall as Lobo.
The already shaky visuals mutate into a toxic combination of jarring cuts, brown dust clouds and CGI smoke.
To fully empty the salt shaker onto an open wound, Gillespie completes the jack move swap from George Lucas to a poor man’s James Gunn by lacing his epic slow-motion action sequence with a baffling cover of Jimmy Eat World’s “The Middle”. This is what plays in a hotel lobby that avoids paying music licenses and pretends it’s to create a lounge vibe.
If it weren’t for my beloved David Corenswet being a part of the closing scene as Superman, I’d have scars on my tongue from the finale’s sour taste.
Comparing “Supergirl” to its source material, “Woman of Tomorrow”, would be putting a tranquilizer dart up against a homing missile, only that would distract from the issue at large.
Supergirl as a solo entity may be damned for eternity.
A perennial sidekick who occasionally steals the show; the Scottie Pippen to Superman’s royal Airness.
There are worse hands to be dealt, I just can’t help but dwell on the squandered potential.
4/10
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