The Ballad of Superman

One of the season’s – the year’s! – most eagerly anticipated films is Man of Steel, and yet, now that it’s finally, handsomely here, I cannot help but wonder if, perhaps, it should have been released at Christmastime.

Why? Because, as a summer tentpole, this Zack Snyder-directed blockbuster is, mmm...how shall I put this?

Sure to disappoint, that’s how.

See, IMHO, critics, for the most part, will fault this ambitious origin story to within an inch of its life with this aggroying self-appointed grandiose authority that will betray nothing more than their own coulda, woulda, shoulda-ness. Trust.

Indeed, you already can GTS – they’re bitching and moaning about this being an(other) origin story, and a much too joyless one at that, and also about how this most iconic character has been made to be such a tortured soul. To which I say, guys...it’s what’s being served – and you knew that going into the theater. You saw the trailers and praised them for, ever so Malick-like, teasing a darker take on the beloved DC Comics hero.

Deal. With. It. And understand, at last, that the story of an impossibly attractive guy with out-of-this-world strength, of body and character, and a hopeful destiny, who finds out he is not actually from Earth shouldn’t be a picnic. 

I mean, jeez.

They’re gonna find reason to moan – and not in the good way – about Henry Cavill, who I think does a phenomenal job at conveying the well-earned sadness of his Clark Kent/Man of Steel, for before he plays Superman, savior of mankind, Cavill plays a man. (Dark Knight Trilogy vet David S. Goyer’s script, based on his and producer Christopher Nolan’s story, lays on the Jesus allegory quite thick, down to Clark being 33 when we meet him as an adult and the action begins.)

Both the scope and subject matter of Man of Steel are admittedly...appropriately much too epic for its own good – but how could it be anything but, I ask. And thus I go back to my first question: Would a nice Christmastime opening date had served Snyder, Cavill & Co. better? Doubtful. Folks would find fault with a shot of the actor floating in space in an image that is meant to recall the crucifixion quite the affront.

All of this to say, rather simply, that Superman just can’t win. By which I mean, of course, he can’t please everyone. Not on film, anyway. Not anymore.

Not even by boldly taking us to Krypton, a reach-for-the-stars move that other filmmakers have attempted before. Or, even more boldly, by not fully thrusting Superman and Lois Lane into each other’s arms but by making her, thanks to a compellingly winning turn from Amy Adams, an invaluable ally rather than just an object of affection. (Full disclosure: I was weary of how Adams would come across because she didn’t go traditionally brunette for the part – which proved unimportant in the end.)

And not even by featuring solid supporting performances from a cast that includes Russell Crowe as Jor-El; a scenery-chewing-and-destroying Michael Shannon as the militant General Zod (his “Release the World Engine!” is sooo totally the new “Release the Kraken!”); and lesbian-icon-in-the-making Antje Traue as the ruthless Faora, Zod’s right-hand woman.

Kevin Costner and Diane Lane who, as Pa and Ma Kent, Clark’s adoptive parents from Smallville, USA, are especially heartwarming. Costner, in particular, infuses his every line reading with a heartbreak that informs everything you need to remember about his son’s lifelong internal conflict, as well as his and Earth’s salvation.

Superman may not be able to win anymore, but the Man of Steel, with all his humanity, can, and Man of Steel does.

Sure, the film’s third-act battle over Metropolis is over the top, but it cannot be anything other than super, after all.

Good thing we will see more. Because by the end of the film, it is clear that this story is just beginning. Thank goodness for Cavill – he is something to be seen (and, boy, does he get even cuter when he puts on his Clark Kent glasses).

My Rating ****

Photo: Warner Bros.