Superman (2025): A Tale of
Gratuitous Euphoria and an Unchecked Auteur
The promise of James Gunn’s new Superman was to restore hope, but
what landed in theaters on July 11 (and subsequently on Max on
September 19) feels less like a heroic epic and more like the playground of
a director whom, it seems, no one dares to tell "no." With a global
box office of $616 million and a budget exceeding $200 million,
the film is less of a triumphant rebirth and more an exercise in absolute
self-indulgence.
The "Spoiled Child"
and the Trap of Euphoria
From the first act, one senses an atmosphere of gratuitous euphoria.
Gunn directs with a hyperactive energy, as if under the influence of an
enthusiasm that doesn't always translate into narrative coherence. From a
screenwriting perspective, one immediately notices when a resource is organic
and when it’s merely a "patch" used to win over the audience cheaply.
The inclusion of Krypto (the super-dog) or the rescue of elderly
ladies are not genuine gestures of the hero’s nobility; they are emotional
shortcuts. It is the "Save the Cat" trope taken to a paroxysm: if
you don’t know how to make the audience love your protagonist, just put an
adorable dog next to him. It is a lazy, almost cynical resource that
underestimates the viewer's intelligence in favor of an immediate sentimental
response.
A Hero Overshadowed by His Own
Party
Let’s talk about David Corenswet. The actor is undeniably
pleasant and works wonderfully in the romantic dynamic with Rachel Brosnahan
(a competent, though not iconic, Lois Lane). However, Corenswet lacks the
specific gravity that the myth of Superman demands. In the action sequences, he
feels like a high-end mannequin—a pretty face that fades when confronted with
the magnetic charisma of the supporting cast.
Characters like Guy Gardner or the impeccable Mr. Terrific—with
his sleek visual design and high-tech T-Spheres—end up stealing the spotlight
from the Man of Steel. Superman becomes a secondary guest at his own party,
eclipsed by Gunn’s need to show off all his new "toys" and his omnipresent
musical selection, which no longer serves the story but interrupts it to
remind us of the director's personal playlist.
Lex Luthor: A Diamond Trapped in
the Mud
The most salvageable element of this exercise in egocentrism is Nicholas
Hoult. His Lex Luthor is brilliant, capturing the intellectual envy and
arrogance found in the best comics (reminiscent of All-Star Superman).
Nonetheless, the script does him no favors, forcing him into shallow
geopolitical subplots (Boravia and Jarhanpur) that feel hollow.
Comparison is inevitable: while Kevin Spacey’s Luthor—an actor
now proscribed, yet of undeniable technical prowess—delivered a chilling malice
and a screen presence that commanded attention, Hoult struggles to be taken
seriously amidst a tone that often borders on farce. Hoult has the talent to be
the definitive villain, but Gunn prefers to surround him with quick jokes and
far-fetched situations that strip the threat of its gravity.
Conclusion: The Absence of an
Editor
In the end, Superman (2025) is the result of a
"pampered" auteur. You can see it in the seams of the text: there are
redundant scenes, characters existing solely to sell action figures, and a
total lack of restraint. The film is entertaining at times, but it is a superficial
fun, propped up by parlor tricks and rock music.
For those of us looking for a solid dramatic structure, Gunn’s version
stays on the surface. It is the flight of a man who believes he can do whatever
he pleases because he has the budget to back it up, forgetting that without a
real, deep human conflict, Superman is nothing more than a nice guy in a very
expensive cape.
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