Superman has crash-landed on screens more times than anyone can count, each iteration promising to recapture the magic that Christopher Reeve created in Richard Donner‘s unforgettable 1978 film. After a gauntlet of false starts and superhero fatigue that saw Henry Cavill‘s tenure end (too soon, I might add) and the DCEU crumble, newly ensconced co-chairman and co-CEO of DC Studios James Gunn stepped in to write and direct his reboot vision for the Last Son of Krypton to kick off DCU’s Phase One: Gods & Monsters.

Opting out of the brooding Superman created by Zack Snyder and Cavill, Gunn tapped into Grant Morrison‘s more playful “All-Star Superman” vibes but spliced in enough gangly slapstick to rattle the tone for his reboot. Modernizing the Man of Steel was a necessity to move him out of the cornball, cornfed all-American image that doesn’t reflect where we are as a society today, but Gunn overindulges in one-liners and cameos to turn that dial. What emerges is a film that soars when it focuses on its central romance but stumbles when it tries too hard to be the irreverent superhero romp we’ve supposedly moved beyond, and Gunn is most comfortable with.

Thankfully, Gunn (The Suicide Squad) didn’t feel the need for yet another origin story. At the start of the film, David Corenswet’s (Pearl) Clark Kent arrives at a fascinating crossroads of being a successful journalist by day and an established hero by night. Yet he’s emotionally adrift, torn between his love of Lois Lane and his service to do good by the people of Earth. The complexities of superhuman friendship set him adrift on a sea of cynicism, treating kindness as a relic, which further distances him from other metahumans who use their powers as a means to an end.

When Lex Luthor’s megalomaniacal maneuvers threaten both his reputation and the world itself, Superman must reconcile the Kryptonian heritage that has guided him with his human heart while continuing to embody the qualities that humanity increasingly views as antiquated. Compassion still packs a punch, and if he can’t deliver that message, who can? Gunn’s plot weaves interesting themes of identity, belonging, and what it truly means to be a human walking on this planet through colorful action sequences that occasionally hit their mark and character-driven moments that are the backbone of every classic comic book film. All the pieces are there; it’s just Gunn’s typically unwieldy assembly of them that disappointed me.

Without question, the reboot’s greatest strength lies in the electric chemistry between Corenswet and Rachel Brosnahan (The Courier). Their Lois and Clark dynamic clicks with genuine authenticity, transforming routine newsroom scenes and private conversations at home into a relationship drama where fantasy and action are the last things on anyone’s mind. I’m not sure how young Superman fans will feel about a 10-minute talky scene about their situation-ship that comes early on in the film, but adults will appreciate the rapid banter and honest dialogue between two leads with obvious chemistry.

Corenswet brings a refreshingly Earth-bound charm to the role, channeling Reeve’s affable posture while finding his way into the head of a Superman who’s desperately trying to make himself smaller despite his towering presence. Brosnahan’s Lois is sharp, tenacious, and appropriately skeptical without ever feeling like a corrective stereotype. Margot Kidder remains the prototype for the role, but out of all subsequent actresses who have tried Lois on for size, Brosnahan understands what makes her tick the best. She has already learned his secret by the time we join the story, and their romantic tension elevates every shared moment above standard superhero fare. When she challenges Clark to explain his wayward priorities and savior complex, you glimpse what this film could have been with more focus.

Unfortunately, lack of focus is a recurring theme, and the film’s ambitions are frequently derailed by Gunn’s inability to resist his worst impulses. Nicholas Hoult (Nosferatu) is typically a reliable performer, but feels immensely miscast as Lex Luthor. While there’s nothing colossally wrong with his performance, he lacks the commanding presence and intellectual decisiveness the role demands. Hoult’s version feels like a Muppet Babies take on Superman’s greatest nemesis.

When hero and villain are roughly the same age, their conflict reads more like a petty squabble than an epic confrontation between good and evil. Hoult plays the bald genius tycoon as a high-blown tech evangelist (not dissimilar to another recently married chrome-domed billionaire) rather than a true arch-villain, so when he declares war on Superman, it feels less like world-ending overconfidence and more like a frat-boy pissing contest.

The supporting cast suffers from Gunn’s questionable treatment of characters beyond the central duo. The Justice Gang lineup is…eclectic. Edi Gathegi’s (The Harder They Fall) Mister Terrific, a black masked tech genius armed with T-Spheres, emerges as the one you wish had a solo film and scores a home run out of the gate. Anthony Carrigan’s (Death of a Unicorn) Metamorpho offers depth through body-horror metaphor, while Isabela Merced’s (Alien: Romulus) underused Hawkgirl disappointingly floats through with barely a squawk. Though Nathan Fillion’s (Skincare) Green Lantern hair is technically accurate, he’s sporting a bowl cut so cringe it’s clearly meant for laughs when his Guy Gardner character had multiple hairstyles they could have opted for instead. Dog lovers, don’t come for me, but as fun as the CGI Krypto is and as much as he is used to get jobs done others can’t, he takes up entirely too much screentime.

Beyond Lois, every female character in the reboot serves as either an irritant or eye candy. Mikaela Hoover’s Cat Grant exists solely to parade around in cleavage-baring outfits, while even Neva Howell‘s Martha Kent, refreshingly age-appropriate compared to previous glamorous casting, speaks with such an exaggerated drawl that she sounds two steps away from being a hillbilly caricature. Another female character is dismissed by the otherwise winning Skyler Gisondo‘s Jimmy Olsen as having ugly feet, input into his phone as “Mutant Toes” while ex-girlfriends who have annoyed Lex Luthor are condemned to a fate worse than death. These misogynistic-leaning choices feel particularly jarring in a film attempting to deliver messages about recognizing diversity and safeguarding our empathy.

Visually, Henry Braham‘s cinematography bursts with vibrant colors, sometimes to overwhelming effect. The saturation pops so intensely that your eyes occasionally struggle to process the sensory overload, but when he locks in on Superman spiraling through the skies or just suspended in mid-air, it’s genuinely magical. The IMAX of it all makes it that much more impressive. Gunn’s fish-eye lens obsession grows tiresome; trim 60 percent, and you’d let the dramatics of these sequences fly even higher.

Judianna Makovsky‘s costume design cleverly utilizes textures and bold hues to distinguish heroes from villains, giving each character a distinct silhouette. By keeping her vision grounded and her references tied to reality, Beth Mickle‘s production design still breathes a refreshing life into Metropolis and the Fortress of Solitude.

The score by David Fleming and John Murphy hits appropriate beats during action sequences, but criminally underutilizes John Williams‘ iconic theme. Rather than opening with a proper title sequence set to that legendary music, Gunn saves it for the end credits, buried beneath his trademark needle drops that feel more like ear-splitting personal indulgences than storytelling tools. Swap a handful of those tracks for Williams’ majestic fanfare, and you’d elevate several key sequences from serviceable to super.

Beneath the capes and CGI, Gunn’s Superman wants to reflect today’s fractured world: mob justice when Superman’s name is smeared, political overreach echoing global turmoil, and a call for compassion amid pessimism. The core message about embracing difference and maintaining goodwill resonates universally, though some will inevitably cry “too woke.” There’s a thoughtful exploration of mob mentality when the world turns against Superman, forcing him to rebuild trust without expecting apologies from those who wronged him. This willingness to take the first step toward reconciliation speaks to why the character endures across generations and remains an example to look up to.

The reboot succeeds most when it allows these themes to breathe naturally, rather than forcing them through Gunn’s quip-heavy dialogue or unnecessary diversions involving deep-cut characters that appear to entertain the filmmakers more than the audience. I won’t lie and say there aren’t moments I wasn’t moved or energized. It’s hard to sit in an IMAX theater for 129 minutes and not feel a tingle of excitement when Superman zips through the heavens. These were the ecstatic moments that reminded me why we still crave these legends, even when the storytelling trips over its cape as it abandons its nobler ambitions for easier laughs.

One day, hopefully, we’ll get a big-screen Superman delivered with total sincerity rather than a desperate feeling of pandering attempts at  hipness. Until then, Superman (2025) is a serviceable kick-off for Gunn’s fledgling DC Universe, offering enough heart and spectacle to satisfy. The chemistry between Lois and Clark ensures that it is never less than watchable, occasionally exhilarating, but hamstrung by tonal whiplash and a tendency to treat supporting characters as punchlines.

It lands as a middle-of-the-road blockbuster reboot: good enough to leave you hopeful for the DCU Phase One: Gods & Monsters, not so strong that you’ll rush back on opening weekend. The film includes both mid-credits and post-credits scenes, though neither significantly impacts this story or future installments; they feel perfunctory for Gunn’s Marvel-laced brand of amusement rather than essential enough to delay your trip home.