Supergirl (2026)

Superman made me want to be a better man. Supergirl made me want to leave.

Last year Gunn’s Superman wrecked me. I cried, I walked out wanting to be kinder, the color and the earnestness and the whole “kindness is punk rock” of it worked on me completely, right down to Iggy Pop singing “because I’m a punk rocker, yes I am” over the ending. So I showed up for a planet-hopping, female-led space adventure ready to fall in love again. What I got was the dullest, brownest, most overstuffed fluff I’ve run into in ages.

It isn’t Milly Alcock, who’s okay, or the premise. It’s that this plays like a cover band grinding through Gunn’s greatest hits with no idea why any of them worked. The apathy Kara wears like armor never curdles into anything, so the movie keeps mistaking a bad attitude for a personality. Lobo gets shoehorned in and contributes nothing, not emotional weight, not worldbuilding, just Momoa in KISS makeup on a space motorcycle eating clock. And the needle drops, god. Peacemaker season 2’s finale already had me clocking the cracks, Cena headbanging to a genuinely terrible song, and here that same trick thuds every single time. All the jukebox, none of the sincerity that made it sing.

Superman gave me optimism, color, and a reason to feel something. This gave me a revenge plot, a rescued dog, and stiff line readings in a mud-colored palette. I wanted so badly to love it. Unfortunately, the only thing it made me feel was tired.

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