My thoughts after seeing Superman Returns
Superman Returns. As I stated in my “Ruminations Upon Superman” post, I went into Superman Returns knowing that it isn’t really the Superman movie I want to see. It is about the Superman I’ve been reading about since I was six years old, it’s about a previous generations incarnation of the character. This is a silver age film, and I’m a modern age kinda guy.
That being said, I went in hoping that Bryan Singer’s direction and Brandon Routh’s portrayal of the Man of Steel would quiet my continuity gripes. That the film would be special enough to allow me to accept it without having to alter my stance on my preference for a modern age Superman film hopefully starring Tom Welling.
I got what I was hoping for and more. From the moment the Superman: The Movie style credits began to shoot toward us, I was a small child again with a cape tied around my neck sitting and watching Superman. It engrossed me, and affected me.
As the movie progressed, the feeling of being a child began to melt and I found myself not thinking of the Byrne era continuity but about how this nostalgic version of Superman was so incredibly powerful.
There were moments that moved me to exultant smiles, and moments that made me weep. I fully admit to having wept openly at several points in this film. When Martha Kent is alone in that throng of people outside of the hospital, unable to be with her son because the world doesn’t know that she reared Superman… fear playing across her face over whether her son is alive or dead. Or when Lex’s henchmen dragged a de-powered Superman through the muck and the mire of “New Krypton” kicking him and throwing him and beating him… the tears began to flow. And when Lex stabbed Superman with his kryptonite shiv and then again and again the wails of a broken Man of Tomorrow threatened to cause my sobs to choke me.
It amazed me.
My friend Angelita was in the large group of us who went, and she pointed out how thrilled she was to see the look on my face at the end of the movie. To see how much I’d loved it and how it had engrossed me and turned me again into a small child.
There is only one word for that… magic, pure magic on film. Superman flew like I’ve always imagined, he saved people the way I’ve seen it drawn a thousand times. Regardless of era or continuity it was like he really WAS Superman and it all was really happening.
I believe a man can fly.
That being said, I went in hoping that Bryan Singer’s direction and Brandon Routh’s portrayal of the Man of Steel would quiet my continuity gripes. That the film would be special enough to allow me to accept it without having to alter my stance on my preference for a modern age Superman film hopefully starring Tom Welling.
I got what I was hoping for and more. From the moment the Superman: The Movie style credits began to shoot toward us, I was a small child again with a cape tied around my neck sitting and watching Superman. It engrossed me, and affected me.
As the movie progressed, the feeling of being a child began to melt and I found myself not thinking of the Byrne era continuity but about how this nostalgic version of Superman was so incredibly powerful.
There were moments that moved me to exultant smiles, and moments that made me weep. I fully admit to having wept openly at several points in this film. When Martha Kent is alone in that throng of people outside of the hospital, unable to be with her son because the world doesn’t know that she reared Superman… fear playing across her face over whether her son is alive or dead. Or when Lex’s henchmen dragged a de-powered Superman through the muck and the mire of “New Krypton” kicking him and throwing him and beating him… the tears began to flow. And when Lex stabbed Superman with his kryptonite shiv and then again and again the wails of a broken Man of Tomorrow threatened to cause my sobs to choke me.
It amazed me.
My friend Angelita was in the large group of us who went, and she pointed out how thrilled she was to see the look on my face at the end of the movie. To see how much I’d loved it and how it had engrossed me and turned me again into a small child.
There is only one word for that… magic, pure magic on film. Superman flew like I’ve always imagined, he saved people the way I’ve seen it drawn a thousand times. Regardless of era or continuity it was like he really WAS Superman and it all was really happening.
I believe a man can fly.