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.
Director Patty Jenkins and star Gal Gadot lasso a true kickstart to the summer movie season with grit and girlpower, spunk and splendor in the satisfying superhero movie Wonder Woman (B+). After an origin story prologue on Amazon island where warrior Diana grows up with a peacekeeping destiny and mentorship from Robin Wright, the narrative thrusts to Europe, where our heroine marshals a team of ragtag ruffians to infiltrate WWI enemies and attempt to thwart a bunch of baddies and their chemical weapons plot. Jenkins proves masterful in taking us to tentpole territory with a reverent tone, pulpy production values and motivated action. Gadot is a delight as a woman with singular purpose and a refreshing lack of irony. Chris Pine is superb as her foil, an American spy who answers her questions about the nuances of men’s modern warcraft and anatomy. Mostly, it’s old-fashioned adventure building on the spirit of the original Captain America or The Rocketeer, with moments of comedy in London a most enjoyable surprise. For thrills and good-natured fun, this is a high point for the otherwise murky D.C. comics cinematic universe and the antidote for and female-driven counterpoint to Michael Bay style phone-’em-in summer blockbuster machinations.
Zack Synder’s Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (C) is schizophrenic in virtually every way, from its title that purports to be both an unexpected showdown as well as a Justice League origin story to keeping up with each of its title characters and their respective alter egos. I swear you’d need a 3-D modeling kit to diagram this plot; and for comic book fans already accustomed to a multiverse of known rules, the film complicates the landscape even further and not always in good ways. The first hour is rather compelling as we see ways earthlings are grappling with its Kryptonian savior, resulting in intercontinental espionage, congressional hearings and noirish double crosses. It gets complicated though when Alexander Luthor, played with relish by Jesse Eisenberg, hatches a way to kill Superman/Clark Kent (Henry Cavill) that somehow involves Batman/Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck) using Kryptonite to level the playing field and fight to the death as mere mortals. All of this is made even more vexing by it not being entirely clear why Batman is near masochistically intent on destroying a super guy who he may have one or two passing disagreements with. And, oh yeah, there’s a Kryptonian villain plus Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) to introduce, the latter with guitar riffs that sound composed by Bill & Ted. It’s not a complete folly, but there’s a bit more blistering bombast than any film should contain. So many aspects actually work that it’s a shame it just gets overstuffed. The production values, the always reliable Amy Adams as Lois Lane and some of the set-pieces are first rate. Alas Affleck and his hybrid butler/inventor (Jeremy Irons, collecting a paycheck), seem lost at sea. Which reminds me, where did Aquaman go? You’ll ultimately be exhausted as this buffet often has explosive consequences. Although much of the movie is lively and engaging, beware whatever they’re smoking in Snyder’s basement.