Movie review: Superman

James Gunn’s Superman is not just a new chapter for the DC Universe (DCU), it’s a full-blown reinvention of what the Man of Steel can represent in the 21st century. 

The movie isn’t a self-serious reboot or a nostalgic throwback. Instead, it’s an emotionally rich, visually exhilarating film that’s unafraid to ask hard questions about morality, identity, and power. At its core, it’s a Superman story for a world that’s exhausted by conflict yet still yearning for hope.

David Corenswet brings a quiet, lived-in charm to Clark Kent. There’s an emotional openness in his eyes and a sense of restraint in his posture that makes this Superman feel human in a way we haven’t seen in decades. 

Corenswet’s Superman is kind not because it’s convenient, but because it’s hard — and the film leans into that tension beautifully. Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois Lane, meanwhile, is sharp, grounded, and always asking the right questions. Their dynamic isn’t just romantic. It’s philosophical. Lois challenges Clark’s ideals while still believing in him, and their back and forth is one of the emotional anchors of the film.

From the opening scenes, Gunn makes it clear that this isn’t just about supervillains and capes. The story centres on a brewing geopolitical conflict between two fictional nations, Boravia and Jarhanpur, and the allegory is unmistakable. 

While the film never explicitly references real-world events, the imagery and rhetoric surrounding the conflict — militarized borders, displaced families, corporate profiteering — clearly echo the Israel-Palestine crisis and other contemporary global struggles. 

Lex Luthor, portrayed as a polished, manipulative tech industrialist, profits from both sides while evading accountability. It’s bold political territory for a superhero film, but Gunn treats it with surprising nuance.

Superman is caught in the middle both literally and symbolically. Is he a savior or a pawn? A global citizen or an American weapon? When he’s detained by an international task force and questioned for what they considered was intervening in sovereign affairs, it hits hard in today’s climate of nationalism, surveillance, and moral ambiguity. 

One of the film’s most powerful lines — “Kindness is now seen as weakness, and neutrality as betrayal” — feels written with the current global moment in mind.

Yet for all its heavy themes, Superman still soars with colour, energy, and heart. The visual style is bright and pulpy, often evoking golden-age comic book panels. The action scenes are kinetic but never overwhelming, with a clear sense of geography and emotional weight.

There are moments of genuine levity, too — Superman helping a kid pick up dropped groceries mid-fight or his robotic butler glitching during a high-stakes escape. Gunn’s signature humour is present but doesn’t undercut the drama.

Fans of The CW’s Supergirl will find plenty to smile at. A glowing Big Belly Burger sign lights up a downtown Metropolis alley. Cat Grant gets a name drop. Eve Teschmacher appears in a news segment.

And perhaps most notably, Kara Zor-El (now played by Milly Alcock) makes a quick but impactful cameo. She arrives to retrieve her new pet, Krypto the Superdog, a fun reversal of her CW counterpart’s cat, Streaky. Her brief appearance shows spark and defiance, and her wardrobe — a futuristic jacket over the House of El symbol — nods just enough to Melissa Benoist’s softer, more hopeful version.

Even Lois’s fashion subtly channels Kara’s CW look. Her clean tailoring, soft colors, and elegant minimalism reflect the same energy, creating a sense of visual continuity for long-time fans.

Then, there’s the interdimensional imp. Though unnamed, his brief appearance hints clearly at Mister Mxyzptlk, a fifth-dimensional prankster familiar to Supergirl viewers. His graffiti-tagged portal and glitchy presence suggest cosmic chaos ahead, possibly setting up future storylines that tie Kara more deeply into the DCU.

What makes Superman resonate most is its conviction. Gunn doesn’t reinvent Superman by making him darker or more violent. He leans into the idea that radical empathy and moral clarity are still heroic, even when they’re out of fashion. The film argues that restraint takes more strength than aggression, and that in a fractured world, choosing hope is an act of defiance.

Unlike the lighter tone of Supergirl, which centred on emotional warmth and episodic challenges, this film feels larger in scale, deeper in intent. But they share a common thread: the belief that strength means protecting others, not dominating them.

Superman doesn’t just succeed as a superhero film. It succeeds as a political fable, a moral study, and a cinematic reminder of what it means to stand for something — even when the world doesn’t want you to.

In a time when cynicism feels easier than hope, this film dares to believe in something better. And that just might be the superpower we need most.