ChicoFireman

Metropolis, 2025. A giant kaiju wreaks havoc shortly after the planet's greatest hero suffers his first defeat at the hands of the mysterious Boravian Hammer. The villain's movements are controlled by geeks acting as if they were playing video games, obeying the orders of billionaire Lex Luthor. Two of the first action sequences in James Gunn's new film begin by adding new elements to the mythology of one of the icons who has transformed most in comics and in his multiple reincarnations in other media, especially cinema. The Superman of the screen has been classic, comical, epic, ridiculous, romantic, and dark. In this new version, it's a pastiche that deconstructs the myth—but with the utmost respect. Gunn understands the symbol and the legacy he holds in his hands, but his relationship with the canon is anything but traditional. With the momentum he gained from the Guardians of the Galaxy films, where he built his own universe within Marvel, the director arrives at his new home with a flexible vision of how to access the rites surrounding one of the founders of the contemporary superhero era. His Superman is not an origin film, nor does it aim to serve as a primer for fans or the uninitiated. Gunn assumes that these characters don't need to be reintroduced and, thus, doesn't become hostage to traditions built over 87 years of history. This doesn't mean he's not respectful of the heritage accumulated over this time. From images of the messianic savior floating amidst sunbeams over the city to the popular clamor for a guide, Gunn explores this heritage, recovering and repositioning references and looking to the present. David Corenswet's Superman—the actor who best transitions between man and legend since Christopher Reeve—lives in a world where countries attack countries, a clear reference to Israel's massacre of Palestine, sponsored by an organized industry of fake news for afternoon TV shows converted into people's courts. In this context, without sounding contradictory, there are also giant monsters, superpowered beings, and interdimensional portals. For Gunn, fantasy and reality are indistinguishable. The lightheartedness with which he treats the material is such that he feels confident in taking risky decisions, especially having such a popular protagonist share his debut film with second-tier figures. Krypto, created using CGI from motion capture of Gunn's dog, Ozu, is one of the film's stars. His adorable (and uncontrollable) energy perfectly conveys the atmosphere the director establishes. Krypto's presence comes from one of the project's greatest sources of inspiration: the All-Star Superman series, in which Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely reimagine the Man of Steel outside the official chronology, giving him the freedom to approach him in different ways. Interestingly, Morrison and Quitely struggled to bring these ideas to fruition, but Gunn convinced Warner Bros. to use this material as the basis for refounding their new universe, a near-final move after so many failed attempts. The film functions almost as a right of reply to Zack Snyder's dour Superman, which failed to balance the character's tragic side—as Richard Donner and later Bryan Singer did so well—or create climaxes outside of apocalyptic scenarios. Gunn combines Donner's epicness and Singer's romantic nostalgia with the humor and lightheartedness inherited from Richard Lester. Although the screwball comedy's influence on Clark and Lois's relationship has faded, Corenswet and Rachel Brosnahan are its best representatives in a long time. She, in fact, is the best Kate Hepburn since Margot Kidder. From the cinematic legacy, Gunn also revives a classic supporting character from the first two films who has never left the collective imaginationMs. Teschmacher, played by Valerie Perrine. Renamed simply Eve, Ms. Teschmacher is now an influencer with a significant role in the plot and a new relationship with Lex Luthor, who gains his best portrayal in the franchise thanks to Nicholas Hoult's furious performance. Hoult's Luthor lacks a hint of humor, completely straying from the tone established by Gene Hackman's slapstick villainy. Now the owner of a technology empire, as in master John Byrne's reworking of the comics, he is a psychopath obsessed with destroying Superman. Hoult transforms the caricature created by Kevin Spacey and Jesse Eisenberg into a tragic figure, creating an interesting counterpoint to everything else. While it may seem silly—which it perhaps is—or overly naive—the discourse on humankind is almost childish—Gunn's Superman has all the elements to reconnect DC characters with the public because it celebrates fantasy unabashedly and, even less so, without violating the hero archetype. Gunn understands the mythology and symbolism of this figure, but he also understands that there are slightly bold and equally passionate ways to show respect to this material without becoming a prisoner of it.

The supposed analysis of the character's loneliness dies in the void without analyzing much. Everything is so distant that the dramatic construction is compromised. "Emmanuelle" lost its sensuality, but didn't gain the intended depth. Nor did it lose the sophistication of a luxurious setting as tacky as its camera, which moves constantly but doesn't create anything particularly relevant. Noémie Merlant alone can't save a project without focus.