Let’s be real: The last decade of Superman films felt less like a superhero saga and more like a therapy session hosted by someone who just discovered the cool fonts on Microsoft Word. Zack Snyder’s Superman moped through scenes like a guy who accidentally read the comments section on his LinkedIn post about “following your dreams.” The cape was still red, but the vibes? As dark as my morning coffee after I’ve run out of creamer.
Enter James Gunn’s Superman, which bursts onto the screen like a golden retriever crashing a funeral. This isn’t a movie—it’s a spa day for your soul. The colors are so vibrant I suspect someone dunked the film reel in a vat of glitter and yelled “HOPE!” at it until it complied. Metropolis doesn’t look like a dystopian parking garage anymore; it gleams like a freshly polished Apple Store.
When I went to go see Star Wars with my dad in 1977, there was a trailer for a movie about the comic book character Superman. “You’ll believe a man can fly” the trailer proclaimed. And then we saw the red shorts, the blue tights, the giant “S” emblazoned on his chest. Christopher Reeve, with his cheeky smile, and “aw shucks” philosophy enveloped the role and, yes, my six year old self believed a man could fly.
Obviously, 2025 is light years different from 1978, but the fundamentals of truth, justice, and the “American” way prevail. It’s only that you have to sift through tweets and posts and comments to get there. America has cocooned itself — isolated and angry. We don’t know our neighbors. We assume anyone interacting with us is a grifter or a threat. The golden rule in 2025 is to beware thy neighbor.
Gunn’s genius lies in recognizing that Superman’s greatest superpower isn’t flight or heat vision—it’s relentless niceness in a world that’s allergic to joy. The plot isn’t about saving Earth from a CGI space squid (though there’s one of those too, wearing a hat made of existential dread). It’s about a guy who chooses kindness while the rest of us are emotionally mainlining BlueSky rage. There’s a scene where Superman stops a bank robbery just by talking to the thief about his childhood trauma. I haven’t felt this socially obligated to be a better person since my girlfriend guilted me into recycling pizza boxes.
The film’s villain isn’t an alien warlord. It’s negativity itself—the creeping sense that everything’s terrible and why bother and did you see what Sally posted about the city council meeting? Superman’s nemesis here is a tech troll who weaponizes outrage algorithms, turning citizens into a horde of sidewalk-rage influencers (played brilliantly by Nicholas Hoult.) It’s like if Elon Musk and a NewsMax moderator had a baby, then gave that baby a megaphone made of spikes. Our hero’s solution? Literally reprogram the internet with hope. (Take notes, Bezos. Or don’t.)
I won’t spoil the ending, but let’s just say I walked out of the theater feeling so uplifted I tipped a parking cone. Then I remembered parking cones don’t eat tips, so I donated $5 to a squirrel. The point is, this movie made me believe we could be better—or at least stop subtweeting our ex-wife about getting your toaster back.
Of course, not everyone’s convinced. The guy next to me muttered, “Too cheesy.” There are some folks too far down the rabbit hole – too enveloped in their shouting at the sky.
In a world where even a trip to the grocery store tickles every ounce of anger in our bodies from where we park to the price of eggs. Superman boldly poses a thought-provoking question: What if we… simply chose kindness instead? What if we unplugged the doomscroll on our phones, looked up, and let a man in spandex remind us that decency is still cooler than cynicism?
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to compliment a stranger. Or battle a rogue Alexa. Either way, I’m doing it knowing a man can fly in 2025.
(Get more from Kamler on Twitter where you’ll find him complimenting strangers as @chriskamler)
