The latest from DC Studios has the heart and spirit of producer James Gunn’s work, but lacks some of his underappreciated visual flare.
It is safe to say that after over two decades of multiple superhero films a year, not only has the genre cemented its tropes and patterns, but there are definable sub-genres within the monolithic overarching genre. For example, within the Marvel Cinematic Universe itself, you have the standard bearers (IE the Avengers films), the more idiosyncratic fare (Dr. Strange) or the more artistically-divergent, auteur focused projects (my beloved Eternals.)
And then there were the Guardians movies. Technically part of the larger MCU, but James Gunn’s Guardians of Galaxy trilogy always felt a bit off their own corner. Not just because their interstellar setting kept them away from the rest of the action, but because writer/director Gunn’s aesthetic were similar to the larger sense of adventure and humor of the other MCU movies, but always felt a step apart. They had their own verve, which manifested in everything from plot-relevant needle drops to a more pronounced sense of pathos for its ragtag cast of alien screw-ups.
Having successfully created his own sub-brand within the otherwise monolithic MCU, it made sense when Gunn took over for DC’s always struggling cinematic ventures. He had a vision and an underlying sincerity to his work that could reasonably meld well with DC’s iconic but idiosyncratic cast of characters. And as a statement of purpose, last year’s Superman more or less lived up the promise of a Gunn-produced DC universe: colorful, comedic, but at its heart an extremely sincere look at one of cape fiction’s hardest characters to nail.
The unexplored area for Gunn as a creative is as a producer, overseeing someone else taking his house style and trying to apply it themselves. That test now comes with Supergirl, directed by Craig Gillespie (I, Tonya and Cruella) and based on a script from Ana Nogueira, who seemingly has taken the spot of Gunn’s in-house writer when he needs a script he can’t crank out. The end result renders mixed results, crafting something feels familiar and comfortable but never really cracks the seal to ever feel especially inspired or original.
Kara Zor-El is having a rough birthday. Besides her beloved cousin Superman, Kara (Milly Alcock) and her ill-behaved space terrier Krypto are the only survivors of the destroyed planet Krypton. Unlike Superman though, Kara remembers Kryptonian society, and thus has a harder time assimilating to Earth society. She much prefers to fly off to other planets with red suns, because there she has no powers and thus can get as blind drunk as she needs to as she evades her trauma.
All of this comes to a thundering halt when she runs into young Ruthye (Eve Ridley). Ruthye walks into a bar Kara is frequenting, seeking help to avenge her parents who have been murdered by a gang of human traffickers called the Brigands, planning to kill their leader Krem (Matthias Schoenaerts) herself. Kara tries to tell her that she isn’t interested, but when Krypto gets poisoned by Krem as well, she finds herself thrust into adventure against her will.
One of the smartest moves Supergirl makes as a film is keeping its stakes both personal and legible; Ruthye wants revenge, Kara needs to save her dog. The rest of the adventure essentially propels them both towards their twin goals, with occasional interruptions and diversions. Chief among those distractions is Lobo (Jason Momoa), an immortal bounty hunter who as infamous for his foul language as he is for his penchant for wanton violence. Precisely what Lobo’s function in the film other than being a familiar character for comics fans to enjoy is unclear, but Momoa at least is having fun calling people bastich.
In general, the cast of Supergirl are game for the ride. Molly Alcock’s Kara is a fresh spin on the character, being the smart-ass counterweight to David Corenswet’s sugary sweet Superman. Her chemistry with Eve Ridley is especially strong, their relationship bordering between sisterly and maternal, with Kara fighting through various hangovers to attempt to impart jaded life lessons. Perhaps the most impressive work in the film is David Krumholtz playing Kara’s father in flashback, giving an earnest, emotional performance completely in Kryptonian language.
The cracks for Supergirl show up more in the margin. While it has the basic shape and form of a Gunn superhero film (heroes struggling with self-doubt, vibrant locales, creative shape at the margins), the details are lacking comparatively. Of the underappreciated aspects of Gunn’s direction is his control of a frame; his stylish direction extends to his use of space to create dynamic, if chaotic, action sequences. Think the dart sequence in Guardians of the Galaxy Part 2 or the Mr. Terrific sequence in Superman.
By comparison, Supergirl’s actions sequences alternate between feeling cluttered and sluggish. There are a few clever gimmicks (one action sequence where Kara fights while using a teleporter is especially fun), but most action sequences are victims of choppy editing, or at least on one occasion, where we focus on Ruthye’s reaction rather than the action itself. Gillespie as a director has a real grounding in the human drama of the film, but the spectacle seems to be consistently intimidating as he finds different ways to obscure it.
The Brigands themselves are both a boon and a weight on the film. It is nice to have villains that are just unambiguously bad, and make no mistake as a gang that kidnaps young girls to sell into slavery, the Brigans are about as evil as they get. But they also feel very familiar. They are essentially a space Mad Max gang, down to outlandish vehicles. But they also feel immediately disposable; compared to Nicholas Hoult’s Lex Luthor from last year, who presents a horrific but definable perspective, the Brigands are almost comically just evil. They are a thing for Kara to punch as hard as she can, and we don’t have to feel bad about it.
It is probably unfair to expect Supergirl to reinvent the wheel. It is meant as a fun, if darkly tinged, romp that walks Kara into a final form for future appearances. But perhaps that slightly disposable feeling is what causes it to feel more slight than its predecessor. Superman felt like a movie who knew it was responsible for resetting the whole of what DC movies would look like. By contrast, Supergirl is a well-told Supergirl story that ends precisely where you imagine it will, and is good fun most of the way through. Does a superhero need to be more than that?
Perhaps not, but in the age where the capes are attempting to maintain their place in the cultural landscape, movies like Supergirl can’t afford to not bring something novel to the table. It is exciting to imagine Alcock returning to this character in the future (as soon as next summer for Man of Tomorrow), but the movie surrounding her will likely feel like a footnote in the long run, another good-but-not-great superhero film in the fading twilight of it as the dominant genre in Hollywood.
