After a decade-long run, the DCEU, launched in 2013 with Man of Steel, delivered a handful of highs but mostly stumbled through messy continuity, tonal confusion, and increasingly underwhelming box office returns. It quietly fizzled out, leaving Warner Bros. once again looking to reboot the brand. This time, they handed the reins to James Gunn, promising more color, energy, and fun from the outset.
Gunn, who found success with Guardians of the Galaxy, had already dipped into the DC universe with 2021’s The Suicide Squad—an attempted course correction that, while creatively solid, flopped commercially and only added to the franchise’s identity crisis. Now he was given a clean slate, tasked with convincing a weary audience to invest again in a superhero universe that had already burned through its goodwill.
And nothing signaled a change in tone more than reimagining DC’s most iconic figure. Gunn chose Superman, promising a return to optimism and citing the Fleischer cartoons, All-Star Superman, and Birthright as tonal guideposts. The red trunks are back, and so is John Williams’s theme (more on that later). The marketing insisted on a hopeful, inspiring Superman. One that could be fun again, and a clear departure from the DCEU’s brooding take.
And yet, despite the brighter visuals, awkward jokes, and a fresh coat of paint, Superman (2025) repeats many of the same missteps that doomed its predecessors. The DCEU didn’t fall apart just because it was “dark”. It failed because it rushed through character-building, overstuffed its stories, and rarely showed us why its heroes mattered. Gunn’s film does the same, just with glossier packaging. It echoes Batman v Superman more than the hopeful works it invokes.
Yes, it’s brighter. Yes, it’s jokier (though the jokes rarely land). But beneath the polish lies a conflicted Superman, constantly questioned about his place in the world, a bloated plot full of setups for future characters, and yet another cartoonish Lex Luthor who’s meant to spark deep conversations but ends up flat. Worst of all, the film never makes us feel why Superman matters, why he inspires, or how he uplifts humanity.
Even for Gunn’s die-hard fans, the ones who’ll grin at blink-and-you-miss-it cameos from his usual roster, it’s hard to imagine this film generating real excitement for what’s next. Does anyone leave wanting desperately to see how Wonder Woman or Aquaman would fit in this universe? Or even the upcoming Supergirl? Sure, there’s creativity here. But even when the humor works (which is up for debate) it comes at the expense of sincerity, the one thing this story needed most.
One of the core problems is how the film introduces itself. Skipping the origin story is fine. But Gunn also skips the emotional groundwork. Instead of reintroducing Superman through meaningful choices, characters constantly tell us who he is and what he stands for. He saves a squirrel in one scene, but never makes a choice that costs him anything. The film gestures at complexity with a politically charged Israel-Palestine allegory and a late twist about misinterpreting his parents’ values, but none of it truly lands. There’s no emotional reckoning. No growth. Just noise.
Some may argue Superman is simply too square or outdated for today’s climate. But that’s where the film betrays its own intentions. Gunn cited Superman: The Animated Series as a reference point, a show that found rich emotional weight without abandoning Superman’s idealism. That Superman carried the quiet burden of being the last of his kind. He led with empathy, earned trust through selfless action, and showed that restraint was a conscious, principled choice, not uncertainty. That Superman inspired. Superman (2025) just talks about inspiration, and never earns it. There’s no awe. No spark. No emotional anchor.
The world-building only adds to the mess. We’re dropped into a setting where lizard monsters destroy cities and no one seems to blink. Superpowered invasions are treated like Tuesday traffic. The film starts at eleven and gives itself nowhere to build. The first 40 minutes are jammed with exposition just to make sense of it all.
Which is a shame because when the film slows down, it works. The smaller, grounded moments are its strongest: Superman under interrogation. Banter between Lois and Clark. Tension in the newsroom. These glimpses show a better movie underneath. David Corenswet has the presence for the role, and Rachel Brosnahan brings real edge to Lois, though neither is given the room to reinvent the characters. Jimmy Olsen steals scenes in his brief time. Nicholas Hoult’s Lex, however, is a misfire, neither threatening nor plausible as a modern power broker.
Instead of focusing on those core relationships, which could’ve carried the entire film, Gunn crowds the frame with his usual misfit ensemble. Mr. Terrific, Metamorpho (the one I liked the most), and others feel like variations on Drax with little setup. They’re quirky, sure, but they pull focus from what matters. The film spreads itself thin and leaves its main character strangely underdeveloped in his own story.
And then there’s the music, a perfect metaphor for the film itself. Yes, John Williams’s iconic theme returns, but it’s overused, flattened by synths and electric guitar riffs that make it feel hollow and juvenile. Like the film, it wants to honor the past, but doesn’t understand what made it powerful to begin with.
James Gunn is a talented storyteller with a distinct voice. He’s always thrived in the margins, bringing humor and heart to outcasts. But Superman isn’t an outcast, and Gunn style never gels with the character. With Guardians, you could feel the love in every frame. With Superman, it feels like he’s dragging the character into his comfort zone, adding more and more until the heart of the story gets lost.
If this was meant to be a bold new beginning for DC… I’m not yet convinced. And honestly, I’m not sure audiences will be either.