Some Thoughts on Supergirl

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A Flawed Film, Not an Invalid Supergirl

Yesterday, I saw and enjoyed Supergirl. I didn’t love it and saw its flaws clearly, but I remain baffled by the hostility it has generated among some comic fans and the easy dismissal it has received from mainstream critics.

On paper, the film had all the right credentials for success: a best-selling, well-regarded graphic novel as its source material, Craig Gillespie (I, Tonya) behind the camera, and a script from Ana Nogueira (Which Way to the Stage). Milly Alcock went from a beloved figure in House of the Dragon to the Maid of Might, so she had some fan backing. Apparently, though, not enough. Some of the reaction to her casting seemed less about the performance than about whether she fit a narrow, traditional image of comic-book beauty, and that brought out the darker side of comics fandom.

Which Supergirl Are We Talking About?

A lot of the hue and cry over the film, and over Supergirl in particular, came down to the complaint that the movie didn’t represent their Supergirl. I’ve been reading comics for almost as long as she has been around, and my question to those complainers is simple: Which Supergirl? Between her debut and today, she may have had more tones, takes, and personalities than almost any other hero in the DC Universe.

Throughout the Silver Age, Supergirl was largely a younger, female version of Superman, with her backup stories in Action Comics offering fanciful tales designed for pre-teen female readers, hence all the romance. When editor Mort Weisinger retired, she was handed to incoming writer/editor/artist Mike Sekowsky, who set her on several career paths and put her through many different costumes. She went from student to soap opera actress to whatever else the moment required. Her Bronze Age stories, mostly from Paul Kupperberg, were largely about derring-do and not much about character building.

After the 1984 film bombed, DC Publisher Jenette Kahn gave the okay for her death in Crisis on Infinite Earths. It was a wonderful, noble, heroic death.

The next iteration was Matrix, a being from a pocket universe created from Lana Lang’s DNA, who came to the DCU as Supergirl and operated as such until she merged with Linda Danvers and was reborn as an Earth Angel in the well-respected Peter David and Gary Frank run.

Other fans loved the Jeph Loeb and Michael Turner reintroduction of the heroine, this time as someone sent as a teen to arrive before Kal-El. Her ship got into trouble, however, so he was already Superman by the time she reached Earth. She carried a serious attitude, sharpened by training with the Amazons of Paradise Island.

Not much happened during the New 52 era, but the DC Rebirth version owed more to the CW television series than to what came before in the comics.

That brings us to Infinite Frontier and the film’s source material. Many people didn’t like Woman of Tomorrow, written by Tom King and lushly illustrated by Bilquis Evely. They didn’t like this take on Kara Zor-El, but it was fresh and, more importantly, logical.

Few writers had seriously considered what a teenager would feel after being sent away from her dying home, or what trauma that would leave behind. This was a woman in pain. She didn’t want to be the beacon of hope her cousin was. She didn’t want to be a role model. She just wanted the pain to stop.

The DC All In version from writer/artist Sophie Campbell is more of a modern-day version of the old Silver Age stories and features a pleasant but bland Supergirl who doesn’t always mesh with her appearances elsewhere.

The Movie’s Take on Kara

That brings us to the movie, which is essentially a coming-of-age story for Kara Zor-El. She is turning 23 and has been masking her pain by traveling to worlds orbiting red suns, where she can feel alcohol, dance music, and the physical consequences of bar fights. She is adrift, unsettled on Earth, and aimless despite her cousin’s patient understanding.

When she encounters young Ruthye Marye Knoll (Eve Ridley), things start to change. Krem of the Yellow Hills (Matthias Schoenaerts), leader of the Brigands, has been stealing young women to serve as brides and breeders for his dying race. He lands on Ruthye’s homeworld, kills her parents and brother, and steals two well-crafted swords that are oddly never seen or used again in the film.

Ruthye has been tracking Krem and wants vengeance, which Kara finds amusing, as does Lobo (Jason Momoa). Lobo is looking for a way off planet after his ship is destroyed, so he steals Kara’s ship and shoots Krypto with a lethal poison. Kara is now caught up in the fight against her will, all to get the antidote, which only Krem seems to carry around his neck, in plain sight, no less, within three days.

Where the Script Falls Short

Much has been said about the film’s homages to classic Westerns, and more could have been done with that concept. Many of the film’s problems, though, come down to a script that has interesting ideas but fails too many of its characters.

Kara is suffering, yes, but we feel that most strongly only during the flashbacks to her life on Argo City before radiation began killing its population and she was sent away to live with her cousin. She’s a mess. She loves her dog. She avoids Clark (David Corenswet). But until she embraces her true nature, she is not always as compelling as the film needs her to be.

Ruthye is not Matty from True Grit, but she fills a similar role. She is eloquent and brave, ready to get involved, yet she is rarely given the chance to do something meaningful. Instead, she is repeatedly told to stay put, which she never does. Late in the story, she is shown to be her father’s daughter, sword fighting with skill, but that beat needed to be established earlier.

Krem is neither charismatic, charming, nor especially interesting; he resembles too many other alien villains from other science-fiction films. Trying to save his people is an intriguing motivation, even if we detest the methods he employs, but the film does little with it. His followers are treated as little more than cannon fodder. He also carries kryptonite weapons, which make little sense given what has been established in the new films to date.

Ruthye plays Jiminy Cricket, which is essential for Kara’s growth. What feels totally nonessential and largely wasted is Lobo. Remove him from the film, and the story still works, which makes one wonder why there was such a rush to introduce him now.

There are other story-logic issues, and the pacing is uneven. A mammoth bar fight is effectively replicated for the finale, and neither sequence offers much beyond mayhem.

Why It Still Works for Me

Criticisms aside, I liked the film more than this may suggest. Alcock makes a fine Kara and could become a major female role model for today’s youth: messy, wounded, imperfect, but with her heart in the right place.

The Box-Office Narrative

The budget, estimated as high as $180 million before marketing, means the film likely needs to clear roughly $600 million to be seen as profitable. As of today, it stands at approximately $100.5 million, falling far short of expectations. When the opening weekend numbers came out, it was immediately declared a flop or a bomb, and the media began reporting how much Warner Bros., caught up in an ugly merger with Paramount, stood to lose, with estimates as high as $125 million.

We have recently learned, thanks to The Hollywood Reporter, that the released film is not the director’s original vision but a studio version that tested two points higher. Were all the reported points of contention accurate? We’ll never know; we weren’t there. But when a studio interferes this way, the finished product often suffers.

Still, it is all tangled up in Hollywood accounting because the numbers do not reflect ancillary sales from toys to Happy Meals. So, is it really a complete flop? Probably not. But it is most certainly a disappointment for Warner Bros., James Gunn, and Peter Safran. The larger disappointment, though, is that a flawed but interesting attempt to rethink Supergirl has been treated by some as an invalid version of a character who has never had just one valid form.

If Supergirl has taught us anything across all these decades, it is that reinvention is not a betrayal of the character; it is the character’s inheritance.

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