Supergirl is more in the zone of a girl-power film than a superhero flick. Director Craig Gillespie’s new outing is the sophomore instalment in the newest iteration of a superhero-movie universe (DCU), starring Mily Alcock in the titular role.
Supergirl, however, isn’t technically ‘Supergirl’ until way into the film, supremely coming into her own in the climactic battle scene. For most of this 108-minute film, she is Kara Zor-El, a not-so-regular girl who wants to drown the sorrows of her 23rd birthday by bar-hopping across the universe, specifically near red suns, which is something that makes her “normal” and not the superhero she is/ supposed to be. Also, unlike her cousin Superman — David Corenswet pops up every now and then — she doesn’t want to get into the business of helping anyone. In other words, she can’t be bothered with being a superhero, even when her more famous (and far more responsible) cuz tries his best — via video messages — to keep reminding her of her DNA (and her larger goal).
But Kara has no interest whatsoever in being a paragon of virtue. In that sense, Supergirl is a more interesting take on the average superhero movie, but it somewhat overdoes the very element that sets it apart.
Kara hops from one planet to the next, getting drunk and rolling up to raves, sporting her signature outfit of leather jacket, chunky boots and super-sized sunglasses. Her hair gets clumpier but her drive to get plastered does not. Kara’s only companion is her dog, Krypto, a last-minute addition to the spaceship that she uses as her mode of transport. Krypto, like dogs in general are, no matter which planet they may be travelling on, is frisky and fun and does provide a few belly laughs.
During her intergalactic adventure, Kara meets fellow orphan Ruthye (Eve Ridley), whose family was murdered by Krem (Matthias Schoenaerts), leader of a group of brigands. In the course of their sticky adventure together, Krypto is shot with a bolt tipped with the space pirates’ poison, giving the much-loved pet just three days to live. It is then that Kara is compelled to join forces with Ruthye. Popping in to lend a bounty hunter vibe and a bad-boy energy is Lobo (Jason Momoa).
Gillespie attempts a film that wants to thrive in chaos but ultimately settles for the conventional. Its view of feminism also gets distorted along the way, with Kara employing a snarky attitude to process grief, reluctance and trauma. It often misses the badass bus.
What is, however, slightly refreshing about Supergirl is that despite being a universe addition, it is allowed to exist as a film, with writer Ana Nogueira not submitting to the lure of feeding the screenplay with a dozen Easter eggs or a bunch of cameos. The film is based on Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, a comic-book miniseries written by Tom King and illustrated by Bilquis Evely, but it clearly lacks credible direction or a lucid artistic voice that makes the proceedings fall flat soon enough, and despite Mily Alcock — who brings wit and energy to her underdeveloped part — Supergirl fails to soar.
A large part of the problem lies in the fact that the film doesn’t seem like a cohesive whole. On the contrary, many scenes — as well as characters — seem to have been stitched together at the last-minute in a screenplay that looks like it smashed everything it had against the wall, hoping something sticks. What does work, besides Alcock, is some of the good-vs-evil run-ins and a few inspired moments, despite the derivative nature of the plot as a whole.
Supergirl should have been a better film than what it is. Go in (if you have to) for how it nails Kara’s heartache and silliness, all at once. This is a superhero/heroine who doesn’t feel the need to comb her hair even while she’s saving the world. And that alone, in a way, is pretty refreshing.
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