Superman Returns En Force

Superman Returns En Force
by Dileep Rao

First let’s get one thing out of the way: the film is unbelievably beautiful. That Superman soars, flies, effortlessly moves—and yet the laws of physics in every other way are left intact—drops the jaw. The sequence with the plane is one of the finest pieces of intelligent filmmaking at that level in some time. Spielberg at his best is like this: fluid, tense, and flawlessly delivered in an arc of unforeseen complication and redemption.

Routh is fine as Superman, looking a bit like Reeve and, to be honest, a bit like Chris Noth. He embodies a Superman of greater ambiguity than Reeve and that’s not always a bad thing. But sometimes you miss that unwavering gaze Reeve had when he knew he was all that was good, pure and fought on the side of that which was real. Reeve was also older, or at least his Superman felt older. That’s a minor mistake in this film; Routh is so obviously young and younger than Reeve in the first movie that it’s hard to follow, but these are the quibbles.

Blockbuster films are usually thoroughly disappointing, the money bleeding across the screen into the catering and martinis, the indolent waste reeking into the theatre. In this film, every dollar can be seen up on the screen. The look of the film is a new high-water mark in technical achievement for digital cameras and effects. The sets, the costumes (though I missed the ‘S’ on Superman’s cape), the care lavished on each shot is something to behold. Bryan Singer’s film is one of discipline and care, thought and eloquence.

At times Superman Returns plays like an emotional timpani, sounding back to our subconscious memories of the first film. The opening sequence is a testimony to the power of the iconography and music of Donner’s films, and especially to John Williams’ music. The themes are so iconic that I found the hair on the back of my neck standing up. At times, in the film, the deference to a cue from Williams can become overdone, but all in all, it’s a perfect integration of what was ideal about the previous films.

The film’s central story of interest is that Lois Lane (a serviceable but utterly banal Kate Bosworth) has moved on. She is a mother and engaged to the dashing James Marsden whose acting and take on his character are a revelation. Never has an actor from whom I have expected so little done so much. He is every bit the hero as the titular character. Superman (and Routh’s less inspired Clark Kent) must confront this truth and resolve his place in Lois’ life. I missed Margot Kidder’s bat crazy characterization, her humor and effortless wonder. She was not as vanilla as Bosworth (and honestly, not as beautiful) but she was more appealing.

The plot is fairly average for a superhero film—the super villain (Kevin Spacey as Lex Luthor, at times looking very Hackmanesque) has some harebrained scheme which our hero, the indestructible and immortal Superman, will foil. In Singer’s film, though, the subplots are as important if not more so. It might be why the film feels a bit too long—the most interesting part of the film is its B and C stories and Singer takes his time to develop them. Singer also makes Superman less immortal than he was, his weaknesses (especially a scene in a hospital) prove just how mortal he might be.

There is, of course, ample evidence, done with digital mastery, of why he is indestructible. I found myself both in awe of how well this was done but also asking myself why Superman seems to foil robberies more than, say, kill the Janjewed in Darfur or save a country of people from famine. I wonder if Superman stands for Truth, Justice and Property Rights. The appeal of Superman is that we could live in a world where a Moral Compass would be embodied in absolute power that was unwavering from that course. Singer also shows the limitations of the power of Superman when confronting the fragility of airplanes, human flesh, and the real world when it confronts his immutable physical form.

Singer’s film is sadder and more lonely than any other Superman. It may have to do with Singer’s own life as an adopted child—the feeling from others that you are without family but the utter acceptance of the adoptee of his own life. Kal-el is an alien, an immigrant, he is the last of his kind. That seems to touch him more in this film; this Superman is a product of our times: self examining and self aware. Reeve’s Superman hinted at those thoughts but he bore them under a stiff upper lip and billion dollar (adjusted for inflation) smile.

Superman Returns is a fairly amazing, beautiful looking film. It’s not fluff. It tries for grander ideas, has some flaws but more thrills and resonance than it has any right to be. For iconicism, this is an iconoclastic enterprise. I believe a man can fly, I believe in Superman’s mission and the world would be better if he were here. But the greatest gift we have is that he doesn’t exist. After all, what if he wasn’t good? What if one man had all the power in the world, unchecked, and was without a moral compass? What kind of world would that be?

Dileep can be reached at dileep@babblog.com.