Supergirl is an early contender for 2026’s worst studio film, so lackluster that it fails to deliver even a single enjoyable scene (which is difficult to accomplish, even if you try!). This DC misfire, directed by Craig Gillespie, almost certainly will not come close to matching the commercial success of last year’s James Gunn Superman reboot, which earned more than $600 million at the box office. Why? For starters, someone forgot to write a compelling story, choosing instead to rely on attitude and the usual barrage of special effects. More importantly, Gillespie’s Supergirl lacks the charm and appeal of Gunn’s Superman, while the story surrounding her feels strictly second-rate.
The movie turns on a wan revenge plot by way of manufactured sisterhood empowerment, and it’s one of those films where it becomes almost immediately clear that something is wrong. There is simply nothing funny (though the film clearly thinks there is) or remotely engaging about Supergirl Kara Zor-El (Alcock), who is introduced as a jaded, hard-partying malcontent still struggling to recover from the loss of her parents and the destruction of her home planet, Krypton. For the record, the film’s depiction of Krypton’s destruction cannot hold a candle to Richard Donner’s 1978 Superman, which handled the moment far better (though these sequences do give Alcock some of her strongest moments) and accomplished it without today’s reliance on expensive effects.
Anyway, Kara isn’t exactly thrilled about being Supergirl and is far from heroic, living her days as a kind of drifter with the same powers as cousin Superman (David Corenswet, appearing in a cameo, urging her to get her act together). She isn’t the heroic type, nor is she particularly concerned with preserving truth, justice, and the American way. And who can blame her? Unlike Superman’s infant Clark Kent, she spent much of her early life on the planet Krypton and in Argo City, and after the deaths of her parents, she has only her dog Krypto as the last remaining connection to her former life. So she keeps her head down—until one day sword-wielding Ruthie Marye Knoll (Eve Ridley) comes knocking. Predictably, it takes Kara some time to team up with the younger girl and set out to track down the big bad galactic villain who murdered her father.
Trapped in this mess is the wonderful—and very handsome—Belgian star Matthias Schoenaerts (though it’s not his fault that none of that talent or good looks are on display here) as that villain. And if movies like this can be partly measured by the strength of their antagonists, Schoenaerts is not given much to work with. His character, Klem—a pierced space pirate and human trafficker who kidnaps young women (George Miller did this much better in Mad Max: Fury Road) and even manages to shoot the trusty superdog Krypto—feels, like nearly everything else in this picture, pulled straight off the shelf, with little distinction despite the star’s efforts. And Jason Momoa turns up as a wily bounty hunter named Lobo, doing what Jason Momoa typically does.
Scruffy Milly Alcock stars this time around, and she brings plenty of spunk and punk attitude, but she lacks the star power of, say, Gal Gadot in Wonder Woman or even Corenswet. That is partially understandable given Kara’s reluctance to embrace the savior mantle, but Alcock is more of a modern, edgy performer and seems less comfortable during the film’s many battles and confrontations. There is simply no larger-than-life quality to her daring, though you have to feel for her when she is saddled with such clunky dialogue during the final stretch: “Hello. My name is Kara Zor-El. You shot my f*****g dog… This is for my dog, and for what you did to that little girl.” It is all painfully on the nose, lacking nuance or imagination, much like the entire picture.
Rumor has it that Gunn took control of the picture during editing after poor test screenings, but clearly he was unable to salvage it. Certain Gunn touches are still identifiable—such as the irreverent, overly clever pop music choices on the soundtrack, a habit he has carried over since 2014’s Guardians of the Galaxy. Here, that includes a misconceived needle drop cover of Jimmy Eat World’s “The Middle,” which feels completely out of place. Other than Gunn’s touches, Supergirl bears the DNA of a soulless corporate product and represents the worst tendencies of American fantasy filmmaking: a film that does nothing more than pummel audiences with hardware, unconvincing jerky CGI, loads of attitude and plotting so obvious that boredom sets in after barely ten minutes.
It’s worth noting that the character previously made her way to the big screen in Jeannot Szwarc’s campy, vampy (thanks to stars Faye Dunaway and Brenda Vaccaro), 1984 Supergirl, starring Helen Slater, which after Donner’s high marks with Christopher Reeve was dismissed as a small-stakes embarrassment. By comparison, however, that earlier film now feels refreshingly innocent next to Gillespie’s overblown saga.
With early indicators pointing toward weak box office results, many will undoubtedly attribute its failure to audience fatigue with superhero movies (which, for the most part and thankfully, appear to have run their course), while others will predictably blame vocal fanboys determined to sink a “girl power” outing (and they do enjoy taking credit for the box-office failure of 2023’s ill-fated The Marvels). But the real problems here are a routine story, a complete lack of wonder and excitement, and a sourpuss central character.
However, Alcock’s Kara is a realist about the world; she has little interest in her cousin’s rose-colored heroics or his optimism about human nature. That is an interesting idea, and perhaps if the film had paired its superhuman cousins for an exploration their opposing philosophies, it might have found something worthwhile. As it stands, though, it is an inconsequential throwaway. Not for one minute is it fun.
Not recommended.
1 star
