Saturday, July 12, 2025

MAN OF FEEL: "Superman" Is A Doggone Good Time



December 15, 1978.

I’m nine years old. I sit in a movie theater to watch Superman: The Movie. I leave the theater grinning from ear to ear.

June 28, 2006.

I’m thirty-seven years old. I sit in a movie theater to watch Superman Returns, the first reboot of the cinematic franchise. I leave the theater disappointed.

June 14, 2013.

I’m forty-four years old. I sit in a movie theater to watch Man of Steel, the second reboot. I leave the theater somberly disquieted. Dejected.

July 8, 2025.

I’m fifty-six years old, far older than the target demographic. I sit in a movie theater to watch Superman, the latest reboot. I leave the theater...

 ...grinning from ear to ear.

Reviewing Superman is a difficult prospect for me, as I’ve had a lifelong love and obsession with this character. "Superman" has been with me through the ups and downs of life, uplifting me with his adventures—spearheaded by hundreds of talented writers and artists/actors and directors over decades too numerous to count. As such, his cinematic journey has also been a major part of my life. Each film has, for better or worse, reflected the times in which it was made.

But it wasn’t until I had to review Man of Steel that I began to wonder if the character had passed me by.

However, if nothing else, James Gunn manages to make what seemed impossible possible: making an aging cynic like me feel like a kid again.

Director James Gunn was under the proverbial, well... gun, in more ways than one. He had the unenviable task of rebooting a character with a troubled cinematic history—and an entire cinematic universe. It’s safe to say the shots were not only fired but landed on target, even if not all were bullseyes.

One of the major issues with the character, which has seemingly increased with each generation since his inception, is relatability. Superman is “too good”—or, as others put it, too corny. Almost perfect. Unrelatable. Gunn builds the entire film challenging that very presumption: Is it believable to be a good person in a mean world?

The film takes place three years after Superman’s public debut. After intervening in a war between two nations, Superman (David Corenswet) finds himself at the center of a socio-political firestorm. While he has his supporters, he also has his detractors—most especially tech billionaire Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult), who will stop at nothing to eliminate Superman and everything he represents.

Gunn takes a page from Richard Donner’s playbook, using the concept of “verisimilitude” and turning it up to eleven. He embraces the Silver-and-Bronze-Age comic book concepts, giving them modern sensibility and leaning into them fully—without snark, and certainly without embarrassment.

Of course, that "modern sensibility" means much of the plot reflects the current zeitgeist. Issues regarding immigration, race, and class are minor themes here. While some may argue that these issues (and certain casting choices) make the film “woke”—for lack of a better word—these themes emerge organically from the story.

Further, as this blog has posited many times, “art” does not exist independently of the time in which it is created. It serves as either a reflection or reaction to the era it’s made in. It is not perceived in a vacuum. And regardless of the creator’s intentions, it is ultimately up to the viewer to interpret the art. The fact that Superman himself was created in response to the social realities of the late 1930s is certainly not irrelevant.

Superman evokes the feeling of a comic book spinner rack right from the start. It’s like flipping open the page of a long-running comic. The film presumes the viewer already knows Superman’s origin and skips the (re)telling to let the narrative unfold—and unfold it does.

The action and pacing are relentless. The CGI is top-notch. The film is bright—a stark contrast to the dark tone (and visuals) of the 2013 iteration.

But like any sci-fi CGI fest, it would be hollow without strong performances—and it has them. It’s rare for me to say this, but every actor brought their A-game. Too many, in fact, to name them all.

Rachel Brosnahan is striking—visually and emotionally—as intrepid reporter Lois Lane, serving as a cynical foil to the Man of Steel while remaining his romantic counterpart. Excuse the pun, but Nicholas Hoult is a beast as Lex Luthor, delivering a surprisingly rousing performance that exceeds expectations. He doesn’t just give us a villain we love to hate; he gives us  a chilling arch-nemesis who is equal (and in some ways superior) to the hero.

The crux of the film’s success or failure—just like in 1978—rests on the lead. David Corenswet, like the character he portrays, makes the Herculean effort look effortless. His interpretation is instantly recognizable as “Superman,” but also more down-to-Earth in relatability. His Superman jokes, makes mistakes, gets frustrated, feels pain, loss, and (momentary) failure. But he also holds to his values, even when they work against his best interests or public approval. For this author, Christopher Reeve will always remain the benchmark. But for this generation, David Corenswet is Superman. By the end of this film, I challenge anyone to question the character’s relatability.

There are many honorable mentions, mostly from the "Justice Gang" members. After years of voicing Hal Jordan in animation, fan-favorite actor Nathan Fillion finally brings a Green Lantern to live action—in the form of Guy Gardner. His performance is amazing, bringing the politically incorrect, obnoxious Gardner of the comics to life in a way that somehow retains the character’s worst traits while adding the charm of that one uncle nobody talks about. That’s more Fillion’s natural charisma than anything else—and the film is better for it. I wish we could have gotten more out of Isabela Merced's Hawkgirl. The character is criminally underutilized, but the actress does make the most of what she's given. But given how, if you'll excuse the vernacular, badass the character is maybe in her case less WAS more.  I’ve never cared much for Mr. Terrific, but Edi Gathegi (Hoult’s X-Men: First Class (2011) co-star) delivers a revelatory performance. After being underutilized in X-Men, Gathegi’s Mr. Terrific is easily the second breakout character of the film. The first? You guessed it: the dog.

Krypto the Superdog.

Never would I have expected to see that character brought to life, straight, in live action. But Krypto steals the film—and does so in a way that never breaks immersion. He’s not anthropomorphized. He’s a dog. Super-powered—but still a dog.

If the film has one notable weakness, it’s surprisingly the score by John Murphy and David Fleming. Surprising, because Murphy specifically asked to use and adapt the iconic John Williams theme—the one as inextricably tied to the character as the James Bond theme is to 007. That inclusion works both for and against the film. The Williams theme provides emotional gravitas, but it also highlights how generic and hollow the rest of the score often feels. There are no strong, memorable motifs; the original compositions could belong to almost any action film. It’s only when the Williams theme emerges—either bombastically or subtly—that the film gains the sonic weight it needs. Overall, the score is serviceable, but underwhelming. 

But those are critical considerations. Personally? It’s a different story.

Despite the above analysis of the films score, it does sport one specific moment of acoustical brilliance. It starts of with the first five-notes ofWilliams fanfare in horns in classical original fashion, then seques into the rest of the theme in electric guitar. In this manner, Gunn's production declares its mission statement of honoring and respecting the history while reinterpreting and recontextualizing it for modern audiences. I'd be lying if I said a tear didn't roll down the cheek, as I never expected to hear those opening notes in such a fashion in a movie theater again.

"Superman", character and concept, is about hope. Not "hope" as in verbally stated or shouted at the audience—“This symbol stands for hope”—but inspired hope. Aspirational hope. Gunn’s film portrays a world in which hope exists despite modern cynicism. It's believable in its own world, even with the occasional leaps in logic and physics. Superman is an immersive and, most importantly, FUN film! It's a FUN film! Given the performances, it was obviously fun for the cast, and that infectiously translates to fun for the audience. 

In both word and action, this version of Superman offers a credible, compelling case that one man’s belief in doing the right thing—even now—can still matter.

For two-plus hours, despite myself, I was nine years old.

Superman made this aging critical cynic feel like a hopeful kid again.

And that’s the best recommendation I can give.

Wednesday, June 11, 2025

“FROM THE WORLD OF JOHN WICK: BALLERINA” (2025): A MUDDLED DANCE THAT FAILS TO SLAY.

 



There’s a sequence in the first third of the film wherein the titular character Eve (Ana De Armas) performs a pirouette, only to eventually lose her balance and fall crashing to the stage...repeatedly. This is meant as part of the obligatory training montage that is expected of action films, but it unfortunately epitomizes the film as a whole: stumbling under its own weight.

“Ballerina”, directed by Les Wiseman and Chad Stahelski (!) and starring de Armas with a special appearance by Keanu Reeves, takes place in the world of John Wick, specifically between “John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum” and “John Wick: Chapter 4”. Chronologically, it fills in a gap. Creatively, it doesn’t fill much at all.

The story follows a young assassin named Eve (de Armas), whose father—a member of the High Table’s far-reaching Assassin’s Guild—is killed under orders from a mysterious figure known only as the Chancellor (Gabriel Byrne). After his death, she’s taken in by the same Romani crime family that once trained John Wick—led again by The Director (showcasing Anjelica Huston's much-needed droll-yet-commanding presence).

When she discovers the Guild behind her father’s death, Eve goes against her oath and embarks on a revenge mission—unleashing a violent chain of events that threatens the uneasy peace between the two factions.

Spin-offs are always tricky. You either risk recycling what’s come before or doing something so different it feels like it doesn’t belong. “Ballerina” attempts the latter. Structurally, it’s markedly different from the “Wick” films. Where John’s backstory was shrouded in mystery (to great effect), Eve gets a near-standard origin story. The pacing reflects this: slower, more deliberate, and—put loosely—more character-driven. But with the “Wick” franchise, “standard” is almost a death sentence. Her motivations are deeper than “you killed my dog”—that much is true—but the film never capitalizes on that complexity. The concept had potential. The execution? Not so much.

This was a famously troubled production, plagued by creative differences and director swaps. Unfortunately, the turmoil is evident on-screen. The film suffers from clunky pacing, unclear character motivations, and an overall lack of focus. The solution? More fight scenes. Lots of them. Back-to-back. Sometimes on top of each other.

And yes, I hear you —“Isn’t that the whole point of a John Wick film?” After all, the original was Keanu Reeves’ love letter to Hong Kong action cinema and practical stunt choreography. Make no mistake, the money for the fight choreography is on the screen. It's in turns brilliant and inspired. But here’s the difference: the fight scenes in “Ballerina” are bloated, draining the energy instead of propelling the story forward. They shift from Game of Death to just... game to death.

Another missing ingredient? Humor. The original “John Wick” worked not just because of its clean action, but because of its tongue-in-cheek approach. The violence was cartoonishly stylized (there was always a sly wink underneath the chaos). In diametric opposition, “Ballerina” takes itself deadly (pun intended) serious, and the miniscule attempts at humor fail to land; which would be fine if it had the emotional weight to match. It doesn’t. And that imbalance undercuts the whole enterprise.

To their credit, the cast gives it everything they’ve got. Ana de Armas throws herself into every fight scene with gusto. Minimal stunt doubles were used, and she’s clearly committed. Unfortunately, for such an expressive actress, she comes off oddly stiff in many scenes. It’s as if the physical demands of the role overpowered the emotional depth needed to sell it.

Ian McShane returns as Winston, providing the same reliable brand of silky gravitas. Lance Reddick makes his final appearance as Charon. While it’s not a showstopper performance, the quiet dignity he brings—especially in retrospect—adds a poignant undercurrent. Gabriel Byrne, who’s made a second career playing suave bastards, is criminally underused. He’s reduced to a narrative placeholder—a living, breathing MacGuffin.

 And then there’s Keanu. His John Wick appears in more than just a glorified cameo (don’t worry about the incongruity of his presence here when considering the plot of the last two films. It’ll make your head hurt. Go with it). But here's where it gets interesting: because we're seeing him through Eve’s eyes, he’s presented almost like a mythic figure—wise, quiet, untouchable. Gone is the quirky, grunting killer with a fondness for puppies. Here, he’s more of a messianic mentor. It’s jarring, sure, but also a smart move: it subtly reframes the character from a different emotional vantage point. It's one of the few genuinely thoughtful choices the film makes.

Unfortunately, by the time we get to the end, this reviewer was just as exhausted as the characters—only less invested. What should have been a thrilling expansion of the “Wick” universe plays more like an overlong filler episode.. “Ballerina” had the ingredients to stand on its own: a compelling lead, rich lore, and franchise momentum. What it lacked was restraint, tonal balance, and a reason to care.

It’s no wonder its theatrical run is being cut short. This isn’t a graceful pirouette. It’s a stumble in heels on a slick stage.


Wednesday, February 19, 2025

AMERICAN CULTURE CRITIC PODCAST NO. 7: "The Substance"

The latest American Culture Critic podcast is LIVE. In this episode I and Adrian, my show's producer, tackle Coralie Fargeat's "The Substance", starring Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley.

We go deep down the rabbit hole in this NSFW podcast. Please note adult themes are tackled. Heavy spoilers abound if you haven't seen it yet.

Honestly, this may be my best show yet. I invite you to give a listen.

https://youtu.be/tmXtB6k5Gis?si=aziFWdsTk-afOq4k  

Tuesday, November 19, 2024

Monday, November 4, 2024

Friday, December 8, 2023

THE AMERICAN CULTURE CRITIC PODCAST: A FIRESIDE CHAT

 The latest American Culture Critic Podcast is LIVE! A somewhat informal affair wherein I and my producer Adrian De Jesus discuss topics ranging from the state of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the latest cinematic superhero offerings, genre fatigue, The Killers, and Killers of the Flower Moon. 


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ka6VwSvsDR8



Monday, October 23, 2023

TEN MOVIES THAT MADE AN IMPACT ON ME: SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGE REVISITED: DAY 10 – THE KING AND I (1956)



[Back in 2018, there was a social media challenge on Facebook in which a person posted a picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that made an impact on them. However, I went a step beyond and posted an explanation as to why they made that impact. For the sake of posterity, they're being reposted here in their entirety (with some modification/update where warranted)]:

Day 10 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated for this challenge by Andrew Baldwin. Y’know what? Fuck it! I challenge all the moderators of FanFreeks.

Others might think differently, but in my estimation Rodgers & Hammerstein shot the proverbial wad with this one; both a helluva production and a helluva film. Yet some assert it would be problematic to produce as it was originally presented so many decades ago. After all, The King of Siam (Yul Brynner), its male lead, was chauvinistic, self-centered, entitled, and stubborn, while the women were presented subserviently. 

But in my opinion, those critics miss the point. Mistress Anna (the beguiling Deborah Kerr), the female lead, was anything BUT subservient.  Her own person with a strong sense of self, wit, and poise, she was the "very difficult woman" who was progressive in a way that challenged everything the King held dear. The story is more than an (almost) chaste love story between two people of different worlds; it’s also a story of inexorably encroaching progress, and of the pains of generational transition when the old must give way to the new. 

In the hands of any other actor, the King would have been insufferable. But no one…absolutely no one…could have ever been more suited to the role than Yul Brynner (it had once been a dream of mine to someday play the role but the closest I ever got was to subtly homage it during living chess games at Vizcaya in 2001). When one discusses charismatic, magnetic performances, his is textbook example. Yet if you pay close attention, the twinkle in his eye and the subtle smirk belies any seriousness his character takes himself. More often than not, he is a brat; a man who balances his responsibility to his people and culture with Pimp Daddy energy. There are moments wherein he’s a mischievous boy in a man’s body; one that’s fearful of this new world and way of life that's encroaching on his beloved nation. He epitomizes a way of life that arguably can no longer survive but instead of embracing change in the form of the beguiling and steely Kerr-as-Anna he rebukes it, sending her away. By not embracing that love…and by extension that way of life…he withers and dies, but not before recognizing and instructing the next generation in the form of his son, to embrace the new ways while remembering the old, for only in that understanding that true progress and prosperity can result. Brynner pulled it off in spectacular fashion, his performance was so beloved he played the role for years even after his initial Broadway run and this performance…a total of 4,625 times on stage (even under excruciating physical duress). It bears mentioning that at the end of the iconic musical number, Brynner and Kerr engage in a primal, erotically passionate stare down that surpasses almost anything else of its kind ever in celluloid, all without word or touch.

The image above exemplifies the film completely. Two people of differing perspectives, each imperious and strong in their own way, but standing together as equals, all smiles (subtle though they be), basking in each other’s presence despite themselves, yet each too stubborn to acknowledge that, despite their differences, they’re stronger together.

In my opinion, there’s never been a greater love story put to film.