'Man of Steel'

It tickles!

Though I am a seasoned veteran of John Byrne's seminal run of the Superman comic following the Crisis on Infinite Earths reboot (I still have first printings of the whole stretch, and woe unto me for not taking better care of them), my favorite interpretation of the Man of Steel was and remains the Mark Waid/Alex Ross's Kingdom Come. I loved it because among other things it imagined a doomsday scenario that wasn't just extreme, it was ironic: the world was going to be overrun by rampaging metahumans styling themselves 'superheroes' and it was up to Superman to either show them how to behave or else face an indiscriminate extinction event courtesy of us homo sapiens. Though every hero in the DC universe took part, the burden of setting the example fell to the World's Greatest hero because, well, hey, who ELSE could do it, right? It was a spectacular character study of Superman because it presented him with a quandary he couldn't solve with his fists – try as he might – or his usual laundry list of homespun, simplistic platitudes. This was a Superman who was frequently paralyzed with indecision, rueful of his actions and consumed by guilt when anyone – even those who would call him enemy – had to die for the greater good, a concept which (as then, so now) had become thoroughly subjective.  The only regrettable thing about this perspective-shifting story was that it was an Elseworlds tale, mere 'what if' whimsy relegated to the speculation of a trillion trillion alternate universes.

Whether or not Kingdom Come was one of the influences behind 'Man of Steel', the magic makers decided to tackle the weighty notion of Superman as a burdened savior straightaway, a young man's cross to bear rather than the product of age and wisdom and dangerous familiarity with his charges on Earth. But they don't just touch on it; they dwell on it, make it the one and only issue of the entire movie. The result is a finished product that bypasses virtually every other quality we've come to expect from stories of the Man of Tomorrow – action, humor, fun, wonder, romance – in favor of a meticulous deconstruction of the how one man might shoulder the weight of the world. It tries too hard, misfires frequently, and comes off mostly like a funeral dirge with a hefty sermon tossed in on top.

The script was penned by David S. Goyer, whose career is getting a tremendous shot in the arm thanks to his creds from Nolan's 'Dark Knight' trilogy. He's doing so well, in fact, that he's also been retained to write the 'Justice League' movie and its anticipated sequels whenever those make it to celluloid. I find this troubling; I simply don't like the idea of one man writing all these films. Goyer has obviously struck a rich vein with his approach to comic book flicks and the studios seem to have warmed to him (though they hated his earlier, more original fare like 1998's 'Dark City'), which makes me worry that he will be loathe to take chances and do anything daring that goes beyond the formulaic safe zone as he pumps out the hits. 'Man of Steel' is achingly formulaic, though the film mixes up the obligatory childhood scenes and formative moments by intercutting them with Supes as he appears today. It comes across as a very transparent attempt to mask the colossally boring first hour, a by-the-numbers checklist in which the audience is told, with minor variations, everything we already know about Kal-El's childhood, his parentage, etc. Watching it reminded me of the 'Spider-Man' reboot from last year, albeit not (quite) as insulting to the audience.

Not that their aren't plenty of opportunities to feel insulted, or lectured, or preached to. If you want overbearing subtext, folks, this is the World's Finest.

We have Krypton, with Russel Crowe at his mumbly best (still not a match for Brando) telling a room full of One Percenters that their neglect of the climate and insatiable lust for energy is dooming them. The coup attempt by General Zod is an excellent introduction to his character, although we lose five minutes watching his forces and the Kryptonian 'good guys' battle it out with ships and sigils we can't recognize and therefore don't know whether we should cheer or gasp when a giant cruiser explodes in the background.

We have Pa and Ma Kent, played by the always-good-when-he's-just-acting Kevin Costner and Diane Lane, still excruciatingly hot no matter how many laugh lines and age spots they put on her. They impart Morals and Values 101 on the adolescent Supes with a litany of teachable moments pressed straight from the cinematic cookie cutter. Still, it's saying something that the scenes in the Kansas heartland are actually the least sententious of all Clark's painfully extracted life lessons. Even the scene where his powers go haywire as a lad (making him look not a little bit like a special needs child in the middle of a medical episode) is a useful plot point for the third act, though we do see it coming a mile away.

We have Superman swatting down a military drone dispatched to spy on him, dismissively tossing it at the feet of the very same commander to whom he had earlier stated: “I'm about as American as they come.” SIDE NOTE: The commander's bemoaning of the drone's price tag after trillions of dollars of real estate have already been laid waste is one of several unintentionally funny moments.

Then, of course, there's the Christ imagery. This is already well-plowed earth, so I won't dwell on it. So much has been said of this already I will actually admit to being disappointed there weren't more comparisons to Jesus: of the six or more scenes mentioned by other sources, I saw only three or four at the most in my viewing. Having said that, those scenes are dreadfully, drastically over-the-top and about as subtle as a brick to the teeth. Yes, there was no reason for the Last Son of God – excuse me, Last Son of Krypton to mention he is 33 years old at the time he begins his ministry – er, career (as a rule superheroes never mention how old they are) but ol' Kent manages to sneak it in nonetheless, the only reason being so even the dimmest of bulbs can arrive at the conclusion that a forced-perspective shot of a stained-glass Jesus (at Gethsemane no less) and a blatant in-flight crucifix pose hadn't already driven home.

But if Superman is Jesus, does that make Zod the Devil? Not in 'Man of Steel', and not the way Michael Shannon portrays him, and here we come to one of the truly bright spots in 'MOS'. Zod is a lot of reprehensible things in this film, but he is not evil incarnate. From the beginning he comes across more like a maligned patriot, a tunnel-visioned warhorse who uses abhorrent means to pursue what is actually a morally defensible goal. He wants nothing more than to save his race, same as Jor-El, same as anyone in his position would want. His revolution in the film's opening moments is the product of desperation more than anything else, and when Krypton implodes despite his best efforts you can feel genuine sympathy for him. We learn that everyone born on Krypton is engineered from birth to fulfill a specific cause; as a warrior born to defend his people, Zod is following the compulsion ingrained in him by thousands of years of genetic conditioning. When he decides to make Earth his new Krypton he is implementing a last-ditch scenario to bring his people back from the brink of extinction. And Earthlings? Well, they're in the way. Regrettable, but would you step on an anthill if it meant saving your species from annihilation? Shannon is the best actor in this troupe; he handles the role with subtlety and skill, at no point crossing the line from fanatical to cackling maniacal (regrettably, the character's subtle difference in motive and philosophy versus Superman II precludes him from screaming 'KNEEL BEFORE ZOD!'), infusing the character with his own set of burdens that are ofttimes easier to relate to than Superman's.

The final showdown is a 30-minute CGI wank-fast that, sadly, looks like every other superhero showdown we've seen in the last few years. I worry visual effects have reached the apex of what a super-powered brawl can and would look like. The goodies and baddies smash each other and go flying for a country mile, wrecking everything in their path, which has always puzzled me: one would expect that, be it the force of a human fist or an atom bomb, an evenly matched opponent would be able to stand his ground. But no, that don't sell tickets, kid: apparently we're still expected to gasp every time one of these steroid cases whacks another one into the next county. And again. And again. Bottom line: the action gets repetitive terrifyingly fast.

One more note on that: when Superman (spoilers!) saves the day, are the people of Metropolis actually supposed to thank him? The final showdown does more damage than a thousand 9/11s, obliterating whole swaths of the city and reducing a substantial chunk of real estate to powdered rubble – that's irrespective of the damage caused by Zod's whatever-the-hell, who-gives-a-shit terraforming weapon (a contrived and – I guess – necessary plot device the likes of which Goyer clearly loves). Yet for all the mayhem there is next to no attention paid to the tens of thousands of people inside those buildings, the potentially millions of innocents who couldn't possibly have gotten out in time when skyscraper one crashes into skyscraper two, taking out skyscrapers three and four with it. After two hours of moralizing about the Man of Steel's obligation to help people, he does squat to move the fight someplace isolated (which Supes in the comics always makes a point of doing) and the sunshine/lollipops/rainbows aftermath suggests he didn't even help with the cleanup.

SIDE NOTE: I have a feeling the widespread destruction of Metropolis was a calculated gimmick, one that will allow the CGI artists a chance to show a 'new' Metropolis rebuilt for the sequel in which it will look less like a real urban center and more like the City of Tomorrow from the comics.

In the end we're left more exhausted than exhilarated, more overwhelmed than breathless. And we have only the Man of Steel himself to thank for that. While the story is okay, the execution decent if blah (some typical sci-fi plot holes aside, plus lots of pseudo-science crud), and the supporting cast well-realized, it comes back again and again to poor old Clark, who might as well have spent to movie in a hairshirt rather than a smashing new set of redesigned tights. Henry Cavill has the best physique of any who wore the cape before him (sorry, Dean Cain), but as an adopted son of Earth he is a downer to have around, taking not even two minutes to relish his powers or enjoy the good things about this planet he so loves. The great Christopher Reeve, whose legacy as the best Superman is further cemented thanks to 'MOS', always played it a little coy, slightly aloof, like he was enjoying the job despite the crap it involved. Watch the Richard Donner version again and you'll see that little upturn in his mouth, that knowing smirk as he saves someone from an awful, near-death situation (catching the helicopter, anyone?). He's taking care of business and having fun while he's doing it; 'Don't worry, Miss: I've got you.'

Yeah, that was 1978 and this is 2013. What of it? What is the point of all this gravity when it drags on everyone, including the man who can defy it at will? This Man of Steel is so metaphorically weighted down he has forgotten he can literally fly.

And Cavill? Mono-syllabic, mono-expressioned, one dimensional. I don't know much about the man as a performer and I'm prepared to say that the script didn't give him much wiggle room, especially since he has a grand total of one minute as the bespectacled 'adult' Kent. There's a stumbling block for the sequels, by the way: in the film's final, (again) unintentionally hilarious scene we see Kent set up shop in the Daily Planet, and here there was a monstrously squandered opportunity for Cavill to actually act. Being maskless, Superman has always had to rely on subtler things to conceal his identity, ensuring no one connects him with the awkward, nerdy Kent. Reeve mastered this in a way no other actor to wear the cape has ever come close. Cavill did absolutely NOTHING to change his posture, voice, or hair; the glasses and the glasses alone are supposed to conceal this angelic Abercrombie model in our midst, leaving the snickering audience to wonder how Lawrence Fishburne's Perry White ever made it past copy boy for his total lack of basic observational skills.

Mentions (both honorable and dishonorable):

• Chris Meloni: stellar as usual, underutilized
• Amy Adams as Lois Lane: competent but her tough-girl reporter is quickly overwhelmed by the lunacy of the second and third acts and she misses a lot of opportunities to be Lois Lane and not just your typical damsel
• Zach Snyder: he's maturing as a director (lot of lessons learned from 'Watchmen', I suspect) but he's too in love with glamour shots and tricksy camera work. Get Michael J. Fox off the rig and cool it with the shaky handheld garbage. Two people conversing in a room does not call for a wobbly shot or that 'documentary feel'. Ditto for the sudden zoom-ins from foreground to background.
• Geek alerts: a 'Lex Corp' tanker truck gets booted around, a 'Wayne Enterprises' satellite gets destroyed, and I'm pretty sure a blink-and-you'll-miss-it glimpse at a smartphone showed a headline reading 'Aquatic Men'.