Milly Alcock delivers a star-making performance as Supergirl, but this is all feeling a bit too familiar.
While David Corenswet’s Superman is on Earth doing the Big Blue Boy Scout thing, his younger cousin Supergirl (Milly Alcock) is out here living her intergalactic van life with her BFF, the mischievous super-dog, Krypto. While Supes fights for truth, justice, and a better tomorrow, Kara Zor-El spends her time drinking in alien dive bars on planets with red suns, which nullify her powers and let the alcohol to its work.
It’s a trauma response; while Superman was rocketed to Earth as a baby, Supergirl’s chunk of Krypton survived for a while, which means she got to see everyone she knows slowly die of Kryptonite poisoning. So, she’s not drawn to superheroics the way her cousin is, which is understandable, really.
But the call to adventure comes, as it inevitably does, in the form of alien waif Ruthye Marye Knoll (Eve Ridley), who wants to enlist Supergirl in her quest to avenge her father’s murder at the hands of vicious outlaw Krem of the Yellow Hills (Matthias Schoenaerts). And given that Krem pinged Krypto with a poison dart, and only he has the antidote, our heroine has skin in the game. And so we’re off to the races.
If that all sounds vaguely familiar, it’s because it’s a riff on True Grit – the source comic, Tom King and Bilquis Evely’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, is a self-conscious riff on the Charles Portis novel and the Coen brothers’ superb 2011 adaptation. The other big factor in the film’s DNA is James Gunn. While Supergirl is directed by Australian Craig Gillespie (Cruella; I, Tonya), this second cinematic entry in Gunn’s DC Studios era, and owes a massive tonal debt to his Guardians of the Galaxy flicks over at Marvel: there’s a lot of irreverent humour and unabashed goofiness, plenty of needle drops, and a big ol’ beating heart at the centre.
The question is whether that’s enough. There’s a lot of great stuff here, particularly Allcock’s central turn. Allcock’s Supergirl is cocky, surly, snarky, and more than a little self-destructive, and her “messy hair don’t care” take on the character is a striking contrast to Corenswet’s delightfully buttoned-down Superman. We also get treated to Jason Momoa as Lobo, DC’s fan fave hyperviolent space biker/bounty hunter, a role he was born to play. It’s a shame they didn’t figure out anything interesting to do with him though.
Which is the major problem with Supergirl across the board. It’s charming and fun, sure, but it’s also generic and predictable. You’ll find no narrative surprises here, no sudden twists or smart recontextualisation of existing lore; the film hits the expected beats with precision but without much flare. It’s disappointing after Gunn’s own Superman, which managed to find a few new angles on the venerable Man of Tomorrow. By contrast, Supergirl pins its hopes on one subversion – what if Supergirl was a hard-drinking tearaway? – and that’s your lot.
It’s enough, more or less. What works in Supergirl works spectacularly well – well enough to make up for an overly familiar plot and a hopelessly generic villain (superhero films often struggle with their bad guys, but Schoenaerts’ Krem barely passes muster as a Mad Max mook). But on balance, it’s a fun time-passer rather than an instant classic.
Supergirl is in cinemas now.
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