Kara Zor-El is clearly rebounding from interpersonal trauma as Craig Gillespie helms her big-screen reboot in the 2026 version of Supergirl (B), equal parts trial and era. Flying and fighting through the lightning strikes means this Kryptonite is mixed with a little opalite, to speak swiftly. It’s not a movie of big swings, soaring prose or eyes-on-the-skies wonder but rather the ramshackle tale of a troubled prodigal fending off her worst impulses and awakening into her benevolent powers. The atmosphere and antics around the central character are sometimes a messy mixed bag, but there’s no question Milly Alcock is both transfixing and tender in her bold take on the superheroine. She doesn’t need a ten-minute song or fifteen minutes of fame for viewers to recognize the pathos in her eyes as her snarky-exterior character binge-drinks herself into a stupor, outrunning the poison and power of solar orbs and outracing demons from her past she knows all too well would haunt her in full lucidity. The film’s biggest stumbling blocks are of momentum and pace; there’s one particular race against time that plays out on its own meandering beat, clear hands of that cosmic clock be damned. But in terms of Supergirl’s sisterly relationship with a similarly wounded character warmly played by Eve Ridley; juxtaposed with her ill-behaved pup companion Krypto; and opposite her more by-the-books earthbound cousin (David Corenswet great in a trio of extended cameos), she demonstrates deep heart and a capacity for goodness. There’s a subplot about sex trafficking and a few under-the-breath lines which are more subversive than expected; it’s certainly not all a bowl of cheery. Both the lived-in quality of this creative universe and fascinating flashback origin story lore contour and enrich the proceedings. Jason Manoa is perfectly in place as emerging character Lobo (think The Kurgan meets Beetlejuice meets Han Solo) on planets evocative of a Mad Max dystopia. Matthias Schoenaerts is rather upstaged as the primary villain in this dusty vista; his arc feels pretty underwritten. The overall film is not quite the action extravaganza nor the unabashed dramatic triumph necessary to help it convincingly attract detractors, but the movie is peculiar in many ways and far from boring. The same people who declare the comic book movie dead and buried (it’s been a year since we’ve seen cinematic capes) will certainly return to theatres for Peter Parker’s ninth above-the-title film outing within weeks. Meanwhile Supergirl is worth the trip: it builds on James Gunn’s punk rock universe, develops characters including a central hero with full and complete agency and transports its viewers to some interesting places both physical and metaphorical. It’s certainly not the Omegahedron in the punch bowl some have made it out to be, and mostly it’s a bit of a rush. It dares you to stare both at the sun and in the mirror rooting for this unexpected hero.