The man with the golden Gunn

Movie Review
Superman
Directed by James Gunn

A LOT is riding on this movie: not just the reboot of DC Films (now called DC Studios) — with James Gunn and producing partner Peter Safran as co-CEOs — but also a reboot of not just a DC comic book superhero but arguably the foundational superhero (not the first ever but damned close and hugely influential) and, in effect, the salvation of an entire movie genre, which lately has been in a box-office slump generating more bad publicity than Elon Musk on a ketamine binge.

So does Gunn do it? I’d say you’re asking the wrong question.

Gunn’s roots come from low-budget independent horror, learning how to write, produce, direct, distribute, and even make poster art for Troma Entertainment. His first major screenplay was for two Scooby Doo movies and a Dawn of the Dead reboot (none of which, I must note, I much liked); his directorial debut was Slither, a sly horror comedy about sluglike alien parasites infiltrating a small town (that I liked a lot); his Super — arguably his best work to date — is a grotesque yet surprisingly poignant satire of costumed heroes in general.

Gunn at this point was an interesting indie filmmaker who dabbled in mainstream genre filmmaking; his next project however was Guardians of the Galaxy, where he took a relatively unknown comic book team and fashioned for himself a breakthrough hit, mainly by smuggling his subversive indie humor into a mainstream Marvel Studios project, complete with a soundtrack full of 1960s and ’70s nostalgic titles. A few more Guardian sequels made respectable if not outstanding cash and he had influence enough to direct a big production (The Suicide Squad) and spinoff mini series (The Peacemaker) that still includes his irreverent shitstirring sensibility even if they did less than impressive numbers.

So, the real question is: Can Gunn still do it? Can he mix his often R-rated indie comedy and gonzo sensibility with a mainstream property and still have enough popular appeal to make money? The movie has earned its production cost back on opening weekend which suggests a splash, not necessarily big enough to save either DC Studios or the comic book movie industry, at least not quite yet.

But the real question is: Did he do it? Did he make a recognizably James Gunn movie out of one of the oldest and most revered comic book characters in pop culture history?

First thing you’ll notice while watching will recall the term “in media res” — after a few introductory titles we get Clark (David Corenswet) on ice, broken and bleeding (clever that the first teasers for the picture show this exact moment, and literally nothing of what follows). In swift succession we meet Krypto, the robots, Ultraman, the Engineer, Lex Luthor, and so forth. We’ve been introduced to the Kryptonian at least twice before on the big screen; now meet the rest of his world and try to keep up.

This was pretty much what Gunn did with Guardians and Peacemaker — introduce in a cold open, follow to learn more, find out the full story in bits and dribbles along the way. Oh, and that tendency to just toss new characters at you pell-mell? Totally out of the comic books, as pointed out by someone calling himself “Sir Superhero” on YouTube

(not kidding, you can find him on the app, and he at least sounds authoritative and what he had to say about this movie’s story structure does make sense). Unlike Marvel Studios which introduced major characters in single features leading up to the big Avengers movies, a strictly linear progression, Gunn opts for how some of the more freewheeling issues work, with crossovers and team-ups and whatnot (Sir Superhero’s recommendation on how to dive into the comic books’ teeming brew: pick a character, read a story, hang on — and follow whoever happens to interest you along the way into whatever narrative they’re involved in; rinse and repeat). Instead of a linear progression you get chaotic bloom spreading out in all directions, a more democratic buffet of interconnected storylines instead of a fascistic single narrative.

Or you can call Gunn a messy writer.

Either way it’s a bit hard to predict when he’ll zig or zag, and there will be times you might actually be pleasantly surprised.

Gunn doesn’t mess with the original character though — much. As first conceived by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the Man of Tomorrow (he was apparently called that after the 1939 New York World’s Fair) was a violent, sadistic vigilante who, yes, championed the oppressed and helped those in need — but at one point hurling a man against a wall (to be fair he was a wife beater), at another snatches a man by his ankle and jumps up the side of a building to terrify him (to be fair he’s a corrupt politician). Gunn’s protagonist comes from the Silver Age (around 1956 to 1970), a more family friendly hero who fights for “truth, justice, and the American Way!” (a motto that started with the radio shows, was continued in the 1950s TV show, was burned into recent popular memory by Richard Donner’s 1978 feature). Gunn keeps the Big Blue Boy Scout’s squeaky-clean sensibility, adding a few details: he’s not adverse to premarital sex (though that was introduced as early as Donner and Richard Lester’s 1982 feature) and he tends to get heated when challenged.

Speaking of challenged – Clark’s scene with Lois (Rachel Brosnahan) is a nice little moment to introduce both characters’ chemistry together. Not only the question of ethics — of doing the right vs. the legal thing (though Lois could’ve worked harder at catching Clark in moral dilemmas — quoting Robert Bolt might have helped) but of how the couple struggle over the issue of professional vs. personal boundaries (neatly represented by the constant stopping and starting of the “record” button [“You can’t use that!”]) which they have pretty much trashed by sleeping together. This Clark is a hothead with a big heart who tends to act before he thinks, and a bit of a horndog to boot — in other words a regular guy like you and me, made a little too explicit in a late speech.

Nicholas Hoult’s Luthor — well he’s more in line with recent comic book incarnations, a media-canny ultrarich tech bro with serious self-esteem issues (but don’t they all?) who doesn’t really do business but takes things very, very personal. Hoult taps into his sense of entitlement and comes up with a character we would all dearly love to strangle; good job, only I remember Gene Hackman’s Luthor and his crack sense of comic timing, the way he would turn on a dime (at least in the first movie) and suddenly be quietly menacing. In Lester’s sequel he was less villain and more buffoon but 1.) we need more Hackman humor, and, 2.) even as court jester he kept slyly throwing shade at Terence Stamp’s pompous General Zod.

The rest of the cast is memorable and alas too numerous to enumerate, though I’ll single out Nathan Filion’s Guy Gardner as the best candidate for a spinoff feature; not only is Gunn free to push him as hard as possible (those giant green middle fingers!) but he inspires others to sharpen their own quips (“That haircut is a violation of your oath!”).

Visually, Gunn was never an especially distinctive stylist, though I might note that he likes to use lengthy takes, the better to catch the chaos and chaotic interplay between multiple voices — but this is no Tim Burton, the last real fabulist to work on the genre. Gunn does keep it at human rather than monumental level, insisting on keeping our eyes directed at the characters instead of the mile high monsters and gigantic explosions. The color palate is standard issue bright comic book — but his visual source being the Silver Age, meant to hold the attention of 10-year-olds, that’s to be expected.

Not much else to say except I love the explicit stance the movie takes on the Palestinian invasion (it’s wrong) and like — kind of — Gunn’s assertion through Clark that “Kindness is the new punk rock.” Maybe, but that’s not Gunn’s forte; his best work involves absolute losers with abysmal self-esteem who struggle and once in a while succeed. Gunn does his best with Clark — bringing the big guy down to our level, at least confidence-wise — but it helps to surround the man with a cast of characters reflecting and contrasting and giving context to his essential goodness, showing how he stands out in a still imperfect world. To paraphrase what a wise man once said: Oh Lord, go ahead give me kindness — but don’t give it to me yet.