I'm Addicted to James Gunn's Superman. Why Aren't You? - Essay/Review

David Corenswet IS Superman

I have a confession to make. The time right now is 10:30 pm on Sunday, July 13th, and I just returned from my third screening of James Gunn's Superman. I first saw the film when it was released on Thursday evening (no Amazon Prime early screenings for this guy). I saw it on the biggest screen possible (IMAX) with some good friends of mine. There were three film students, including me, and a writing friend of mine who is one of the more passionate film critics I know. It was this friend's opinion that I was most worried about going into the theater that night. See, he is a pretty staunch critic of these kinds of big-budget extravaganzas. He doesn't have much patience for the visual effects-heavy and formulaic superhero flicks of the past 10+ years, and in all fairness, I can't often defend them myself. Still, I wanted nothing more than for everyone with me in that theater to enjoy this film. A good story about a hero who saves all in need and inspires hope into the hearts of those around him is sorely needed in times like these. Not only would a terrible one ruin any hopes of an extended DC Universe (which frankly I could have taken or left before the film), but it would lead to a barrage of self righteous commentors expressing their "I told you so's" and likely cement the "grittier" interpretation of this character in media for another decade. So, my writing friend and the others were my barometers. I had an everyman, an individual thinker, and the aforementioned critic. The anticipation of their responses to the film was killing me. But then, the DC Studios logo spun onto the screen and the first few notes from John Williams' score played over the snow-covered arctic, and I suddenly... couldn't care less.

For the next 1 hour and 58 minutes, I was sucked into the world of Superman. I traveled with him to his Fortress of Solitude, worked alongside The Daily Planet's most skilled reporters, and looked over the shoulders of the dastardly delinquents over at LuthorCorp. By the time the final shot had passed from the screen and the credits began flashing before my eyes, I had forgotten about the fact that I was watching a film. I had become so distracted by the story, characters, action, and world placed on the screen before me that I had forgotten to even think about this as a film. When I leave most cinematic experiences, I have various degrees of takes, notes, critiques, and, in the best cases, analyses. In this case, however, I had nothing. I just wanted to go back. Rewind the projector for everyone in that theater and leap once more into the world of Superman. Sadly, however, that is not how theatrical moviegoing works. I instead had to resign myself to getting out of my seat, walking out to my car with my friends, and driving back home. On our return journey, I turned to my companions to gauge whether or not the experience had been isolated or mutual. To my surprise, I was not alone. Everyone had a great time with the film. Even our resident film critic, between bursts of critiques and nitpicks, had to concede that the experience was quite entertaining. We finally had a superhero film that once again united and excited us all for the right reasons. After getting everyone to their homes, I returned to my apartment and spent the rest of that night lying in bed in a state of relief, joy, and bliss.

Then, it was Friday morning. I slept in quite a bit longer, but when I finally woke up, I went about my day off as usual. I was eating my cereal and scrolling through social media when I first noticed it. This nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was unsure what the sensation was. Was I really just that hungry? I opened my laptop and resumed my save of Mass Effect 2 (I am on a new dark run of the trilogy at the moment), but the churning continued. It felt almost like anticipation, but anticipation for what? I had just seen my most anticipated movie of the year last night, so why would I have a similar feeling again? As I stood overlooking the Galaxy Map on the Normandy SR-2, I realized that perhaps I was not done with Superman quite yet. Due to the euphoric experience of the night before and one ill-timed bathroom break, I hadn't really had a good opportunity to analyze and memorize the film in a meaningful way. Following this gut feeling, I made a reservation with my AMC A-List for 5:00 pm and headed off to see the Man of Steel once more. I sat in this new theater (BIG-D for those who care about formats) by myself and was ready to rewatch the movie with more focus and attention.

Now, was I very successful in this endeavor? Kind of. I set out to focus on the film's structure, characters, styling, tone, and more this second time around, and while I did on a very superficial level, it was hard not to get lost in this sincere and enthralling tale of hope again. I left the theater, and the best I could generate for my Letterboxd was, "Yes, I will take another hit of hope, please!" This was meant to be a self-aware joke on my ability to rewatch this movie faster than a speeding bullet could travel across the face of the earth, but I did feel there was a tinge of truth to those words as I typed them. While I certainly tried to justify my return to this film pragmatically, there was an emotional and almost physical compulsion to return that I couldn't ignore, but what was that?

Sitting here after once again being pulled to the theater for the third time this weekend, I believe I now have some idea as to what it is about Gunn's new film that keeps calling me back. There are plenty of things working to make this movie great. For one, you have one of the best casts I have ever seen in a superhero flick. Every single character from the titular Superman (David Corenswet) to The Daily Planet's sports columnist Steve Lombard (Beck Bennet) and everyone in between, each role has been filled and brought to life by the right actor.

Some of the Cast and Crew of Superman as Shared by the Film's Director, James Gunn.

Each of these characters now feels like the definitive version, and in a world where Christopher Reeve and Clancy Brown (as Lex) exist, that is no easy feat. Gunn and his casting director, John Papsidera (who has been on a hot streak recently), managed to knock it out of the park. Not only that, but the bright and vibrant quality of the film's cinematography and production design complements the tone of the film, which is sincere and pop-y throughout. This film presents itself as a moving comic book, in its cinematography, styling, tone, and structure; I personally saw distinct segments of this film as almost issues in an overarching narrative. You also have the score, which utilizes the Williams' theme in a fresh way that allows it to act as a touchpoint and guiding sonic presence in the film without ever becoming a distracting nostalgia bait. The effective use of it here actually acts as a prime justification for the Definitive Superhero Themes Hall of Fame, which I created in my mind many years ago. The purpose of this abstract Hall of Fame is to consecrate Superhero themes that will never be topped and should persist in perpetuity. Some other entrants include Elfman's "The Batman Theme" and Silvestri's "The Avengers".

There are so many elements of this film that make it a compelling and rich entrant into the superhero subgenre. Like, seriously, I didn't even get to all the real-world thematic touch points and my Kingdom Come analysis of this film. But there is ultimately one factor that I think is to blame for my compulsive return to this film over the weekend. The world depicted in Superman is unlike our world. It is bright, colorful, full of metahumans, and relatively safe (even despite bi-weekly Kaiju attacks and tri-annual rifts tearing through city blocks). Yet it is not entirely foreign to us either. Clark struggles with the ever-present criticism of social media, self-interested billionaires play with human lives, and nation states violently invade their neighbors in the name of "liberation". However, in the movie, there is a glimmer of hope. He comes in the form of a farm boy from Kansas who was raised by a technological novice and an old mush to embody the very best humanity has to offer. He inspires his world and its heroes to be better. To protect those in need and fight for truth, justice, and the American way. I keep returning to Superman because I want...no... I need to live in that world, even if for only 2 hours at a time.