Why I’m Finally Excited About Superman Again
I’ll be honest—I haven’t been excited about a Superman movie in years. Like many people, I grew up loving the MCU’s more grounded approach to superheroes, where characters felt relatable despite their extraordinary circumstances. Meanwhile, DC’s recent films seemed caught between wanting to be realistic and being embarrassed by their own fantastical elements. But James Gunn’s Superman (2025) has me genuinely excited, and after diving deep into what we know about the film, I think I understand why.
This isn’t just another Superman movie—it’s an argument for optimism that feels radical in our current cultural moment. And surprisingly, it’s an argument I find myself ready to hear.
The Story That Hooked Me: Good Intentions, Complex Consequences
What immediately grabbed my attention about Gunn’s approach is how it frames Superman’s central conflict. The film centers on Superman’s struggle to “reconcile his alien Kryptonian heritage with his human upbringing as reporter Clark Kent” while embodying “truth, justice and the human way” in a world that views these values “as old-fashioned.”
But here’s what makes it compelling: the story doesn’t present Superman as perfect or his solutions as simple. Instead, Superman “faces unintended consequences after he intervenes in an international conflict orchestrated by billionaire Lex Luthor.” He has to “win back public support” after his well-intentioned heroism backfires.
This premise immediately addresses something that has always bothered me about Superman stories—the assumption that good intentions automatically lead to good outcomes. Gunn’s film seems to understand that in our interconnected world, even Superman’s actions can have messy, complicated results. The heroism isn’t in being right all the time; it’s in taking responsibility for the consequences and continuing to try to help people anyway.
The Comics That Shaped My Understanding
To really understand what Gunn is attempting, I had to dig into the comic book influences he’s drawing from. I discovered that his approach is built on some of the most sophisticated Superman stories ever written.
All-Star Superman: The Gold Standard
Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely’s “All-Star Superman” emerges as “a significant influence on Superman,” and after reading it, I understand why Gunn would be drawn to it. Morrison’s take presents a Superman who is literally dying (due to solar overexposure) but spends his remaining time not in self-pity, but in increasingly creative acts of kindness.
What struck me most about All-Star Superman is how it handles the character’s idealism. Morrison doesn’t present Superman as naive or simplistic. Instead, he shows a Superman who understands human complexity but chooses compassion anyway. There’s a scene where Superman saves a suicidal girl not through superhuman strength, but by simply talking to her, showing her that she matters. It’s profoundly moving because it’s so fundamentally human.
This is the Superman that Gunn seems to be channeling—not the one who wins through superior firepower, but the one who wins through superior empathy.
Kingdom Come: The Weight of Moral Leadership
Mark Waid and Alex Ross’s Kingdom Come provides another crucial influence. This story asks what happens when Superman’s old-fashioned morality clashes with a new generation of heroes who are more comfortable with killing and moral compromise. The influence of “writer Mark Waid and artist Alex Ross (Kingdom Come)” becomes clear when you see how both works present Superman as a moral anchor in a world drifting toward expedience over principle.
Reading Kingdom Come helped me understand why Gunn’s Superman must “win back public support.” It’s not just about PR—it’s about whether Superman’s belief in humanity’s goodness can survive contact with humanity’s actual complexity. Can you maintain idealistic principles when pragmatic solutions seem more effective?
The Human Touch: Superman for All Seasons
Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale’s “Superman for All Seasons” influenced my understanding of how to make Superman relatable without diminishing his extraordinary nature. This series focused not on spectacular threats, but on Clark Kent’s emotional journey and how his presence affects the ordinary people around him.
What I love about this approach is how it makes Superman’s impact measurable in human terms rather than just in terms of disasters prevented or villains defeated. It’s about the hope he inspires, the example he sets, the way he makes people want to be better versions of themselves.
Embracing the Fantastic: The Silver Age Connection
The influence of “prolific penciler Curt Swan (Superman’s Pal Jimmy Olsen)” signals something I find particularly exciting: Gunn’s willingness to embrace Superman’s more whimsical, imaginative elements. The Silver Age comics were unabashedly fantastical—Superman transformed into different creatures, traveled through time, and dealt with impossible scientific scenarios with a sense of wonder rather than grim realism.
After years of superhero movies that seemed almost embarrassed by their comic book origins, I find Gunn’s embrace of the fantastic refreshing. There’s something liberating about a Superman story that isn’t afraid to be colorful, imaginative, and yes, even a little corny.
Why This Approach Resonates With Me
The Immigrant Story That Everyone Can Relate To
What makes Superman’s story universal is that it’s fundamentally about finding your place in the world. Superman isn’t just an alien trying to fit in on Earth—he’s anyone who has ever felt caught between different worlds, different communities, different sets of values.
The film explores how Superman must “reconcile his alien Kryptonian heritage with his human upbringing,” which speaks to something I think most people can understand. We all carry influences from different parts of our lives—family traditions, professional environments, cultural expectations—and we all struggle to integrate them into a coherent sense of self.
Superman’s alien origin becomes a metaphor for the universal experience of trying to honor where you came from while adapting to where you are.
The Price of Caring
What I find most compelling about Gunn’s approach is how it acknowledges that idealism comes with real costs. Superman is described as “sincere, inspiring and idealistic,” but the film doesn’t present these as easy qualities to maintain.
In our current cultural moment, genuine caring often feels naive. Being earnestly optimistic about human nature can feel like setting yourself up for disappointment. But Gunn’s Superman seems to argue that the alternative—cynicism, detachment, ironic distance—is worse than the risk of being hurt by caring too much.
The story suggests that Superman’s greatest strength isn’t his ability to fly or his invulnerability—it’s his refusal to let disappointment make him stop caring.
The Supporting Characters as Emotional Anchors
Lex Luthor: The Voice of Cynicism
Nicholas Hoult’s Lex Luthor represents more than just a villain—he’s the embodiment of the cynical worldview that Superman’s optimism challenges. By orchestrating the international conflict that creates Superman’s public relations crisis, Lex demonstrates his understanding of how easily good intentions can be twisted and manipulated.
This version of Lex appears to be less about personal vendetta and more about philosophical opposition. He represents the voice in all of our heads that says idealism is foolish, that people are fundamentally selfish, that trying to help others will only lead to disappointment.
Lois Lane: The Bridge to Humanity
Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois Lane, who helps Superman “win back public support,” serves as more than a romantic interest. As a journalist, she represents the power of storytelling to shape perception and the importance of having advocates who can translate your intentions to a skeptical world.
Lois becomes the audience surrogate—the person who sees Superman’s genuine goodness and helps others see it too. Her faith in him becomes a model for our own relationship with idealism.
Why Sincerity Feels Revolutionary
The film is described as “corny” in the best possible way, and critics note that this earnestness “gets Superman right.” I’ve been thinking about why sincerity feels so radical right now, and I think it’s because we’ve become so accustomed to protective irony in our entertainment.
For years, superhero movies have felt the need to undercut their most earnest moments with jokes or self-aware commentary, as if being genuinely moved by heroism was somehow embarrassing. Gunn’s Superman seems to reject this approach entirely.
There’s something brave about making a movie that asks audiences to believe—not ironically, not with protective distance, but genuinely—in the possibility of individual goodness making a difference in the world.
What This Means for the Broader DC Universe
As the foundation of Gunn’s new DC Universe, this Superman establishes a moral framework that I find genuinely exciting. By positioning Superman as unambiguously good—not perfect, not simple, but fundamentally committed to helping people—the film creates space for other heroes to exist in relation to that moral center.
This suggests a DC Universe where heroism isn’t about being the strongest or the smartest, but about making the choice to care about others, even when it’s difficult, even when it comes with unintended consequences.
My Personal Connection to This Vision
I realize that my enthusiasm for Gunn’s approach stems from something I didn’t expect: I’m tired of cynicism. After years of entertainment that seemed to suggest that caring too much was naive and that genuine idealism was unrealistic, I find myself hungry for stories that argue the opposite.
The film presents Superman in “a world that views [truth, justice and the human way] as old-fashioned,” but makes the case that these values aren’t outdated—they’re exactly what the world needs. The challenge isn’t making Superman relevant to modern audiences; it’s helping modern audiences remember why these values matter.
Why I’m Ready to Believe Again
What excites me most about James Gunn’s Superman is that it arrives at a moment when many of us feel overwhelmed by the complexity of global problems and the seeming impossibility of individual action making a difference. Superman’s story—of one person choosing to help despite the costs, despite the criticism, despite the complexity—offers a form of hope that feels particularly necessary.
The film’s greatest achievement may be its insistence that Superman’s “old-fashioned” values aren’t naive relics, but eternal truths that each generation must choose to embrace or abandon. In a world that often feels broken, Superman offers the radical possibility of repair—not through force or superiority, but through the simple, extraordinary act of never giving up on humanity’s capacity for good.
As one critic noted, Gunn’s sincere, inspiring approach “will make you want to cheer.” I haven’t felt that way about a Superman movie in decades, but I’m ready to feel it now. In choosing earnestness over irony, hope over cynicism, and compassion over conflict, Superman (2025) doesn’t just entertain—it reminds me of who I could be, if I’m brave enough to try.
And maybe that’s exactly what we need right now: a reminder that caring isn’t naive, that idealism isn’t foolish, and that individual goodness—however imperfect, however complicated—can still make a difference in the world.
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