Superman Returns (2006)

Superman Returns is a film of wild ambition, one that seeks to elevate the typical summer movie blockbuster even as it entertains.

Superman Returns is a film of wild ambition, one that seeks to elevate the typical summer movie blockbuster even as it entertains. In the same way that Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster changed the nature of comic books almost 70 years ago when they created the granddaddy of all superheroes, director Bryan Singer is out to shake up the status quo of comic-book movies, many of which are designed to emphasize spectacle over anything else. Films like X-Men: The Last Stand, Sin City and, to a lesser extent, Fantastic 4, function best as brainless CGI-enhanced eye candy. Even the best comic book movies--which for me would be Hellboy, the first 90 minutes of Batman Begins and the Spider-Man pictures--are relatively straightforward in scope, telling great action/adventure stories with hints at deeper themes. As for Singer's own X-Men films, they do try to underline the action with social commentary, but I find most of that commentary so awkwardly executed that it winds up weighing down the films themselves. So I'm not kidding when I compare Superman Returns to Ang Lee's admittedly flawed interpretation of Hulk as well as Tim Burton's Batman Returns, movies that also sought to reinvent the genre's conventions, elevating the typical good vs. evil story to the stuff of grand tragedy. (V for Vendetta could be lumped in here as well, although that graphic novel and its film counterpart are very different creatures from most mainstream comic book efforts.) The fatal flaw in Lee's film was that he chose a rather limited superhero to explore his larger themes, particularly the father/son conflict that wound up taking center stage in the movie. Even when he's being written well, the Incredible Hulk functions best as a super-powered stand-in for Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. (Batman Returns mainly suffers from Burton's general disinterest in designing and executing a memorable action sequence--let's face it, all great comic-book movies have to have at least one kick-ass fight scene.)

In contrast, there's a lot of ways one can approach Superman, from emphasizing his role as a divine savior to wrestling with his identity as the last son of a dead race. Writers such as Alan Moore, Jeph Loeb and Kurt Busiek have wrestled with all of these ideas and more on the page, but Singer is the first filmmaker to try to realize those themes onscreen. Made in the late '70s and early '80s, at a time when the world was short on heroes (at least, that's what certain social historians would have us believe) the original Superman movies emphasized the character's decency and unflappable sense of justice. His personal desires almost always took a backseat and the one time he did put himself first--that scene in Superman II when he willingly gave up his powers--he soon discovered the error of his ways. (Of course, he was following his own desires at the end of the first Superman when he turned the Earth backwards in order to save Lois Lane and nothing bad came of that, but let's pretend that whole thing never happened--even director Richard Donner laughs off that nonsensical plot point.) The Superman we meet in Superman Returns is far more uncertain about his place on his adopted planet; all he really wants is to be with Lois, but like it or not, the rest of the world needs him as well. Golden Age purists and action-hungry moviegoers might find themselves gagging at the thought of an angst-ridden Superman (I certainly did when I first heard about Singer's plans for the movie) but having seen the film, I feel that this is by-and-large the right approach to take for his 21st century film incarnation. While Christopher Reeve's Superman remains the definitive interpretation of the Golden and Silver Age versions of the hero, Singer's depiction of Superman fits with the way the character has been handled for the past 20-odd years of comic book continuity.