Our story begins—as all creatively bankrupt reboots do—with a moody, brooding Superman hovering over Earth like he’s trying to remember if he left the stove on. The movie pretends it’s about legacy, alienation, and finding purpose in a post-Justice League world, but let’s be honest: it’s really about Krypto the Superdog, who gets more action, more character development, and more emotionally resonant moments than Clark Kent himself.
Superman is supposedly torn between saving the world and… housebreaking his space Labrador. There’s a subplot about a mysterious intergalactic tribunal that’s judging Earth, but they appear on screen for a grand total of maybe eight minutes. No real big bad, no ticking clock, no sense of urgency. It’s like watching someone half-heartedly play with action figures on Ambien.
By the time the third act limps to the screen like a wounded CGI wildebeest, you’re left wondering what this entire $300 million production was about. It’s not a love story. It’s not an action epic. It’s not a philosophical meditation on alien identity. It’s a superhero movie that’s afraid to be a superhero movie. The director—whose name I won’t mention here out of basic decency—has the visual ambition of a toothpaste commercial. Every emotional beat is flattened, every action scene cut like it’s afraid you might actually enjoy yourself. It’s as if the film was directed by an HR team trying not to offend anyone at the annual company picnic.
Risk? Nonexistent. Tension? Missing in action. Pacing? Think molasses in a Minnesota winter. There are entire scenes that feel like deleted content from an HBO Max screensaver.
You remember when Zack Snyder gave Superman weight and grandeur—even if you didn’t like his tone, he committed? This director? They shoot Superman like he’s applying for a job at a tech startup. “He floats again? Cool. Now do it slower. Can we get the dog in frame, please?”
Cinematography: Beige on Beige with a Splash of Meh
You know what’s great about Superman? He flies. He sees through walls. He zooms across galaxies. You know what this movie makes look boring? All of that.
Even the action sequences—if you can call them that—are edited like they’re afraid of motion. There’s no awe, no adrenaline. Just Superman slow-floating into buildings, punching faceless energy blobs, and whispering things like “There has to be another way.” Yes, Superman. There has to be another way… to make a movie.
This Movie’s Motivation? Corporate Tax Write-Off with a Side of Dog Chow
If this movie had a heartbeat, it flatlined somewhere around the second Krypto fart joke. There’s no central theme. No vision. No emotional through-line. It feels like five different writers were assigned five different tones, and then a focus group removed anything remotely interesting. This is a movie so afraid to be bold, it ends up being beige. A cinematic whimper in place of a roar. A Superman story with no villain, no stakes, and no reason to exist—except to remind you that maybe we were too harsh on Superman Returns after all.
Plot: Disjointed and allergic to excitement
Direction: Flat, safe, and personality-free
Cinematography: Colorless, textureless, borderline comatose
Lois Lane: Less chemistry than a collapsed lung
Villain: Not even a disappointing one—just none
Krypto the Dog: Good boy, wrong franchise
Superman: Emotionally constipated savior in need of better agents
★☆☆☆☆ – 1 out of 5 Stars.
One star for reminding us just how good Superman II really was.
If this was supposed to reignite the DC Universe, someone must’ve lit the wrong fuse. Watching this felt less like moviegoing and more like sitting through a Timeshare presentation—you’re promised hope, but leave with a headache and regret.
And yes… he still doesn’t smile.
