Just zero points.

The most glaring issue with Superman is its narrative incoherence, a problem rooted in James Gunn’s apparent inability to prioritize storytelling over world-building. The film attempts to juggle multiple plotlines, characters, and cameos, resulting in a bloated, overstuffed script that feels like a “Saturday morning cartoon” on steroids. The story opens with Superman (David Corenswet) battered and bloodied in the Arctic after losing a fight to a vaguely defined “metahuman” from the fictional nation of Boravia. This setup, explained through cumbersome intertitles, immediately establishes a convoluted backstory involving a war between Boravia and Jarhanpur—fictional nations that seem designed to avoid real-world political implications but end up feeling like lazy, meaningless placeholders. Why Superman intervenes in this particular conflict, as opposed to any other global crisis, is never adequately explained, leaving the audience questioning the stakes from the outset.

Gunn’s decision to skip the origin story, while potentially refreshing, backfires spectacularly. Instead of grounding the audience in Superman’s world, the film throws them into a chaotic narrative that assumes familiarity with the character but fails to provide emotional or thematic anchors. The plot lurches between Superman’s identity crisis as a Kryptonian immigrant, his relationship struggles with Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan), and a half-baked rivalry with Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult), all while introducing a slew of secondary characters like the “Justice Gang,” Mr. Terrific, and Supergirl. These subplots and cameos, meant to set up future DCU installments, overwhelm the main narrative, leaving Superman himself as an afterthought in his own film. The result is a story that feels like a checklist of franchise obligations rather than a cohesive, character-driven tale. As one critic noted, the film “bites off more than it can chew,” sacrificing Superman’s development for the sake of setting up a cinematic universe that may never materialize.

The inclusion of so many characters and plot threads dilutes the emotional core of the story. Superman’s journey toward self-actualization, which should be the heart of the film, is reduced to a series of expository monologues and predictable plot points. The script’s pacing is relentless, moving so quickly that it leaves no room for the audience to connect with the characters or their motivations. The film’s attempt to balance action, humor, and drama results in a disjointed mess where nothing feels substantial. By the time the inevitable CGI-heavy climax arrives, with skyscrapers collapsing in a “faux-apocalypse” that has become a tired trope of the genre, the audience is left numb from sensory overload.

Gunn’s signature style—irreverent humor mixed with heartfelt moments—worked wonders in Guardians of the Galaxy, but it feels painfully out of place in Superman. The film oscillates wildly between earnestness and silliness, unable to settle on a tone that suits the character. Superman is meant to embody selflessness, resolve, and an aspirational idealism, but Gunn’s take leans heavily into a “goofy” and “slaphappy” approach that undermines the character’s gravitas. The opening scene, where Superman is dragged through the snow by his superdog Krypto after losing a fight, sets the tone for a film that prioritizes comic book absurdity over emotional weight. While some might find Krypto’s antics charming, they come across as juvenile and distracting, reducing Superman to a punchline rather than a mythic hero.

The humor, in particular, is a significant misstep. Gunn’s attempts at comedy often fall flat, with gags like a “gaggle of nerdy comic-relief henchmen” feeling forced and unfunny. The inclusion of pop culture references and needle-drop songs, a staple of Gunn’s filmmaking, feels particularly out of place here. The closing song, “Punkrocker” by The Teddybears featuring Iggy Pop, is a rare highlight, but the rest of the soundtrack, including the overused John Williams theme from the 1978 Superman, feels like a cheap attempt to evoke nostalgia without earning it. The reliance on these familiar elements only highlights the film’s lack of originality, as it leans on the goodwill of past iterations rather than forging a bold new path.

Moreover, the film’s attempts at social commentary are clumsy and heavy-handed. Superman is portrayed as an undocumented immigrant scapegoated for America’s problems, a potentially interesting angle that is quickly abandoned in favor of cartoonish subplots involving Lex Luthor’s army of “enslaved monkeys” blasting anti-Superman propaganda on social media. This bizarre plot point, meant to be satirical, feels like a desperate attempt to be relevant but ends up trivializing the immigrant narrative. The film’s refusal to engage meaningfully with its own themes—whether it’s Superman’s outsider status or the ethics of his interventions—renders it superficial and disconnected from the character’s ideological roots as an antifascist, pro-justice hero created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

The casting of Superman is one of its few promising aspects, but even here, the film squanders its potential. David Corenswet, as Superman/Clark Kent, delivers a performance that is described as “square-faced vanilla dullness” and “slightly puppyish,” failing to capture the charisma or depth needed to anchor the film. While Corenswet has moments of charm, particularly in quieter scenes with Lois Lane, he struggles to embody the mythic stature of Christopher Reeve or even the brooding intensity of Henry Cavill. His Superman feels like a generic, inoffensive hero, lacking the “playful, haunted undertow” that made Reeve’s performance iconic. The script’s insistence on portraying Superman as a brooding, down-in-the-mouth figure further undermines Corenswet’s ability to shine, as he’s given little opportunity to showcase the character’s inherent optimism.

Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois Lane fares slightly better, with some critics praising her chemistry with Corenswet in dialogue-driven scenes. However, her performance is hampered by a script that reduces Lois to a one-dimensional archetype, channeling Courteney Cox’s Monica Geller rather than the scrappy, independent journalist of past iterations. The romantic subplot between Clark and Lois, which should be the emotional heart of the film, feels rushed and underdeveloped, lacking the “crackling spark” needed to make their relationship compelling.

Nicholas Hoult’s Lex Luthor is a mixed bag. While some reviews praise his portrayal of a “petulant bully” with a touch of sociopathy, others note that the character is overshadowed by the film’s chaotic plot. Hoult’s performance is competent but unremarkable, as the script fails to give Luthor a clear motivation beyond generic villainy. His schemes, involving everything from nanite-enhanced goons to intra-dimensional pocket universes, are so outlandish that they feel like parody rather than a serious threat. The supporting cast, including Nathan Fillion’s Guy Gardner and Skyler Gisondo’s Jimmy Olsen, is similarly wasted, with their roles reduced to brief cameos that serve no purpose other than to tease future DCU projects.

Visually, Superman is a textbook example of CGI overload, a problem that plagues many modern superhero films but feels particularly egregious here. The action sequences, described as “awash in over-the-top CGI insanity,” are so bombastic that they lose all impact. From giant plushy troll monsters to kaiju-sized threats, the film throws one visually cluttered set piece after another at the audience, with little regard for coherence or emotional weight. The opening battle with the “Hammer of Boravia” and subsequent fights involving the Justice Gang feel like derivative replicas of countless other superhero blockbusters, lacking the distinctiveness that made Richard Donner’s 1978 Superman a visual marvel.

The film’s reliance on digital effects also undermines its attempts at world-building. Metropolis feels like a generic CGI cityscape, with collapsing skyscrapers that have become a tired cliché of the genre. Even the Fortress of Solitude, a key location in Superman’s mythos, is reduced to a backdrop for Krypto’s antics and a quick healing sequence, devoid of the awe-inspiring grandeur of past iterations. The visual style, while colorful and vibrant, feels more like a pastiche of Gunn’s Guardians of the Galaxy films than a fresh take on Superman’s world.

Perhaps the most damning aspect of Superman is its transparent attempt to appeal to modern political sensibilities, which feels both cynical and poorly executed. The film’s portrayal of Superman as an undocumented immigrant and a scapegoat for America’s problems is a nod to progressive audiences, but it’s handled with such superficiality that it feels like tokenism rather than a meaningful exploration of the theme. The inclusion of a diverse cast of secondary characters, such as Edi Gathegi’s Mr. Terrific and Isabela Merced’s Hawkgirl, is commendable in theory, but these characters are given so little screen time that their presence feels like a checkbox for inclusivity rather than a genuine attempt at representation.

The film’s social media subplot, involving Lex Luthor’s army of monkeys spreading anti-Superman propaganda, is particularly cringe-worthy. Meant to satirize online misinformation, it instead comes across as a heavy-handed attempt to appeal to younger, internet-savvy audiences. This pandering extends to the film’s humor, which often feels tailored to appeal to a specific demographic—namely, those who champion causes like “free Palestine” or open borders—without offering any substantive critique or insight. The result is a film that feels like it’s trying to please everyone but ends up pleasing no one, alienating both casual viewers and hardcore Superman fans who expect a more timeless portrayal of the character.

At its core, Superman fails to capture the essence of what makes the character enduring: his selflessness, resolve, and unapologetic idealism. While Gunn’s intention to portray a more vulnerable, human Superman is admirable, the execution is so mired in silliness and franchise-building that it loses sight of the character’s core values. Superman is meant to inspire, to embody hope in a cynical world, but this film reduces him to a generic superhero in a crowded, chaotic narrative. The comparison to Joss Whedon’s Justice League—a low point for the DCEU—is particularly apt, as both films suffer from an overload of characters and a lack of emotional depth.

The film’s reliance on nostalgia, from the John Williams theme to references to the 1978 Superman, only serves to highlight its shortcomings. Rather than forging a bold new vision for the character, Gunn delivers a film that feels like a pale imitation of better Superman stories. The decision to make Superman “corny” and “goofy” might appeal to some, but it undermines the character’s mythic stature and leaves audiences wondering why this reboot was even necessary.