Superman Soars Again
With James Gunn at the helm, the latest instalment of Superman arrives not as a reverent ode to what once was, but as a kinetic, playful, and unmistakably modern reimagining of the world’s most iconic superhero. Gunn, who reinvigorated Marvel’s cosmic misfits with his Guardians of the Galaxy trilogy, now lends his irreverent wit, infectious energy, and heartfelt sensibility to Clark Kent’s enduring struggle between alien heritage and human heart.
From the very first sequence, it’s abundantly clear: this is James Gunn’s Superman, through and through. The action bursts onto the screen with choreographic bravado—quick cuts, slow-motion flourishes, and combat that finds room for both awe and a wink at the audience. Gunn’s penchant for needle-drop soundtracks, quirky supporting characters, and scenes that pivot from bombast to banter are all accounted for. But where Guardians of the Galaxy was space opera wrapped in a mixtape, Superman is a classical superhero tale—updated, but still respectfully tethered to its mythic roots.
Humour, often the element missing from recent darker DC outings, lands with a deft touch here. Gunn doesn’t reduce Clark Kent to a joke, but he does let him smile—a welcome change.
Gunn’s script crafts fresh resonance from this old conflict. Superman is a man out of time, championing “truth, justice, and the human way” in a cynical age that sees such ideals as quaint or even dangerous. News pundits snipe, politicians equivocate, and even Metropolis’s citizens wonder aloud if the world needs a saviour or simply wants a spectacle. In this climate, Clark’s earnestness isn’t just an affectation; it’s an act of rebellion.
One of the film’s most delightful surprises is the inclusion of Krypto, Superman’s loyal canine companion. Far from a mere mascot or a walking punchline, Krypto is woven into the narrative with intention and care. Gunn, mercifully, resists the temptation to have Krypto speak or serve as extended comic relief. Instead, the dog’s presence grounds Superman—he’s a connection to his lost home and a reminder that love, in all its forms, transcends species and solar systems.
Krypto’s function is more than face-licking; the dog is a partner in battle and in solace, his moments of action as pulse-pounding as any superpowered brawl. There’s a particularly memorable sequence where Krypto’s quick thinking and sheer loyalty tip the scales in a crucial showdown, earning audience cheers without ever dipping into cartoonish excess.
Of course, no Superman outing is complete without swooping action, and Gunn delivers in spades. The film’s set pieces are inventive and visually spectacular—a high-speed chase through the streets of Metropolis, Artificial technology run amok, and a climactic aerial duel that pays homage to classic comic panels. Yet, every punch thrown and building toppled is anchored in character stakes. Clark’s powers never feel weightless; Gunn takes pains to show the effort, the responsibility, and the emotional toll behind each heroic act.
Romance, too, weaves its way through the narrative. Lois Lane is no mere damsel, and her relationship with Clark is built on mutual respect, journalistic rivalry, and understated chemistry. Their partnership is the film’s emotional backbone, offering moments of warmth amid the chaos. Gunn avoids mawkish melodrama, instead letting small gestures—a handheld, a secret shared—speak volumes.
Perhaps the film’s most intriguing aspect is its simultaneous appeal to new fans and its gentle challenge to those who grew up with Christopher Reeve’s Superman. Gunn’s version is brighter, quirkier, and less solemn than the awe-inspiring flights of the late 1970s and 1980s. For a generation raised on Zack Snyder’s operatic, often joyless Superman, Gunn’s take is a revelation: a reminder that hope and heroism needn’t be dour.
Yet, for those who remember Reeve making us “believe a man could fly,” this shift may not always soar. Gunn’s Superman is less godlike and more relatable, sometimes at the expense of the mythic scale. There are nods to the past—musical cues, a glint in Clark’s eye—but the film is firmly for today’s audience, unafraid to question and even gently poke fun at the archetypes it inherits.
Ultimately, Gunn’s Superman is defined by its willingness to wrestle with its legacy. Can “truth, justice, and the human way” mean something in a fractured world? The film’s answer is a resounding—if complicated—yes. Superman’s struggle to reconcile his Kryptonian destiny with his human upbringing mirrors our own attempts to make sense of tradition in a rapidly changing society.
The film doesn’t shy away from tough questions, nor does it offer easy answers. Instead, it places its faith in compassion, connection, and the belief that even the most powerful among us are shaped by those we love. That’s not just Gunn’s message—it’s Superman’s enduring gift.
Gunn’s Superman is a bold, joyful, and thoroughly contemporary vision of the Man of Steel. With plenty of action, a dash of romance, and characters both new and classic given room to shine, it’s a Superman for a new generation—one unafraid to laugh, to love, and to dream out loud. Longtime fans may find themselves divided, but for those willing to embrace a lighter, more hopeful hero, this film is a reminder that, in the right hands, we can still believe a man can fly—just in ways we might never have imagined.
Soaring into cinemas from July 11.
-Dirk Lombard Fourie