"Supergirl:" A Missed Opportunity of Kryptonian Proportions

[the following review contains light spoilers]

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's one of the most anticipated movies of the year! On June 26th, the DCU's Supergirl finally flew into theaters after months of serious hype. Everyone from superfans to casual movie-goers eagerly awaited the newest iteration of Kara Zor-El. But despite a mammoth budget and no shortage of star power, the results have been far more mixed than anticipated. But is this due to legitimate criticism or do we have another Captain Marvel situation on our hands? In the meantime, here's the-biggest-nerd-you-know's extensive thoughts on Supergirl.

After Kara Zor-El’s surprise debut in James Gunn's Superman introduced audiences to the DCU’s version of Supergirl, anticipation was high for her first solo film in over 40 years. That excitement only grew when it was announced that the film would adapt Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, the critically acclaimed comic by writer Tom King, illustrator Bilquis Evely, and colorist Matheus Lopes. On paper, this seemed like the perfect story to bring Supergirl back to the big screen. Kara has often been misunderstood as simply a gender-swapped Superman, but Woman of Tomorrow proved how different she truly is from her cousin. While both characters are defined by hope, kindness, and altruism, Kara’s relationship with those values is more complicated. Unlike Clark, she remembers Krypton. She lived through its culture, its destruction, and the slow death of what remained. Gillespie’s film understands this difference well, even if it does not always capture the emotional depth of the source material.

Unlike last summer's smash-hit, Superman, Supergirl was directed by Craig Gillespie, with James Gunn serving as producer. The movie deserves credit for attempting to expand the cosmic side of the DCU. If DC wants their films to stand out from their competition, the films should be willing to make each film distinct visually from one another, a lesson the previous DCEU struggled with at a similar point when starting their cinematic universe. New planets, intergalactic criminals, and dozens of alien species help expand the universe in both world-building and visuals. The environments in this film can feel a bit samey, especially when comparing them to one of the most visually appealing graphic novels ever made. A common criticism thrown towards this movie is that it is visually similar to James Gunn’s Guardians of the Galaxy. I’d disagree with this statement, but only in defense of James Gunn; I found his films way more visually striking compared to the otherwise similar-looking planets we see in Supergirl. Choosing to use similar technology and familiar infrastructure as a form of cosmic world-building only proves to make each location feel less special compared to its colorful comic counterparts.

Milly Alcock is easily the standout of the film. Her performance as Kara balances recklessness, humor, grief, and heroism in a way that makes this version of Supergirl feel distinct. Still, some of the dialogue does not fit this version of the character. One line taken from the comic, “Krypton didn’t die in a day; the gods aren’t that kind," is beautiful on the page, especially when narrated by Ruthye. In the film, however, it sounds awkward coming from Kara herself. After spending most of the movie establishing her as blunt, vulgar, and emotionally guarded, the sudden poetic seriousness feels out of place. This reflects a larger issue with the adaptation: some elements from the comic are included without fully translating why they worked in the first place. The comedic side of her character carries over from her previous appearance, but this film also gives her more layers. Small details, such as her comfort with alien languages and technology, help show that Kara is not simply Clark Kent with a different costume. She is someone shaped by a completely different life.

The film is strongest when it explores Kara’s trauma. She lost her world 3 times before she was even old enough to drive: first Krypton, then her mother, and finally her father, along with Argo City. Unlike Superman, whose connection to Krypton mostly comes from secondhand material, Kara remembers her home firsthand. She remembers the people, the culture, and the feeling of losing it all. Her partying, drinking, and fighting are not random acts of rebellion; they are avoidant coping mechanisms. She is trying to outrun a grief that has followed her since childhood.

This is what makes her bond with Ruthye so important. Ruthye Marye Knoll, played by Eve Ridley, begins the story consumed by revenge after Krem of the Yellow Hills murders her family. The film changes the comic by having Ruthye’s entire family killed rather than only her father. Strangely, this larger tragedy feels less impactful than the more focused loss in the original comic. In the graphic novel, Ruthye’s father’s death is said to feel like the collapse of her entire world. His lessons stay with her, even when she refuses to follow them. She knows he would see revenge as wasteful and foolish, but her pain is too overwhelming for her to care. The film version of Ruthye has a clear motivation, but she sometimes lacks the same emotional complexity. The comic allowed her grief to unfold slowly through narration and small moments of reflection. In the film, her trauma is more immediate and dramatic, but not always deeper. Eve Ridley gives a committed performance, though the writing does not always give her enough space to fully develop Ruthye’s inner conflict.

One of the biggest issues with the film is pacing. The original Woman of Tomorrow follows Kara and Ruthye across a journey that feels long, exhausting, and transformative. Much of the comic is defined by the narration of silent travel and brief but meaningful moments, which change both Ruthye's and Kara’s views of the universe. The film compresses a journey spanning weeks into only three days, which weakens the emotional bond between the two leads. Moments from the comic, such as Kara teaching Ruthye to wash her hands or Ruthye protecting Kara during the painful gauntlet under Barenton’s green sun, mattered because they showed both characters slowly learning from each other. Ruthye begins to see that the universe still contains beauty and kindness, while Kara is forced to confront her own grief through protecting Ruthye’s innocence while simultaneously trying to quell her desire for vengeance.

By rushing their journey, the movie loses some of that gradual emotional transformation. Kara and Ruthye are still compelling together, but their relationship feels more like a plot requirement than a bond earned through shared hardship. The comic was ultimately about learning how to make meaning from the past in service of the present. Both Kara and Ruthye are haunted by what they have lost, but their journey teaches them that grief does not have to erase the good that still remains. The film gestures toward this idea, but it does not explore it with the same patience.

Jason Momoa’s Lobo is one of the film’s most surprising disappointments, not because of his performance but because of how little he matters. Momoa has wanted to play Lobo for years, and his enthusiasm is obvious. He looks the part, brings the right chaotic energy, and captures much of the character’s violent humor. His vocal performance is not perfect; Lobo’s voice is usually imagined as deeper, rougher, and more gravelly, like a mix of biker culture and 1980s metal, but Momoa still gives a fun adaptation of the Main Man.

The problem is that Lobo barely affects the story. Despite being heavily featured in the marketing and even receiving his own popcorn bucket, he has only about 15 minutes of screen time. Outside of beating up space pirates, he contributes very little to the plot. His presence feels more like a setup for future DCU projects than a meaningful part of this film. For a character as loud and memorable as Lobo, it is strange how disposable he feels.

Matthias Schoenaerts’ Krem of the Yellow Hills works as this film's central antagonist. While his design and origins are almost unrecognizable from the comic, the film preserves the qualities that lie at the center of his conflict with both Ruthye and Kara, his cruelty and cowardice. Krem is not meant to be a physical threat to Kara. Instead, his danger comes from manipulation, violence, and underhanded tactics. Raiding villages for money, torturing their inhabitants for sport, and even poisoning Krypto. The movie expands his depravity by revealing his involvement in trafficking young women to take as his child wives in order to continue his all male race.

One effective detail is Krem’s habit of stealing other people’s food. It may seem small, but it perfectly expresses his character. Krem takes whatever he wants, whether it is food, lives, freedom, or dignity. He is ruled by selfishness and base instinct. This makes him a strong contrast to Kara, whose strength is ultimately defined not by power, but by restraint and compassion.

The film’s music, however, has already become infamous. One needle drop in particular, a slow acoustic cover of “The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World, performed by Kelty Grøa and Kid Motel, has gained attention for all the wrong reasons. Rather than elevating the scene, it distracts from it. The song choice feels awkward and emotionally forced, becoming one of the most unintentionally memorable parts of the movie. A part of the movie that I did forget was that there was this film's original score composed by Claudia Sarne. Other than the Supergirl theme, the soundtrack is a letdown, especially after considering the beautiful score in Superman by John Murphy and David Fleming.

The set design and visual world-building are slightly more successful. The film uses its cosmic setting to create environments that feel alien and yet somewhat familiar to Earth. This is important because Supergirl should not feel like a Superman movie with a different lead. Kara belongs to the stars in a way Clark does not, and the movie’s locations help communicate that. Even when the story falters, the production design gives the film a sense of scale and adventure.

That problem connects to the film’s relationship with Tom King’s source material. Comic book films do not need to be completely faithful to be successful. Changes are natural when adapting one medium into another. However, the best adaptations make changes that serve the film while honoring what made the original beloved. Supergirl does not always find that balance. It captures the broad outline of Woman of Tomorrow, but it loses some of the emotional quiet, philosophical weight, and gradual character growth that defined the comic. Not to say that Tom King’s word is gospel; he’s quite the controversial figure in the comic book community for the drastically varied quality of his works.

Much of the criticism lobbed towards this film has been exhausting to say the least. Many people online have put an almost unnecessary amount of energy into bad mouthing the film’s cast, screenwriter, and content as a whole. Milly Alcock has been targeted and criticized for her looks, with these so called fans saying she "isn’t attractive enough" to play the character. Screenwriter, Ana Nogueira has been criticized heavily for her script, completely ignoring any studio interference and blaming it on a lack of experience. Despite the fact she spent many years in the film industry as a fixer, even gaining a reputation for going uncredited for fixing scripts. Along with this the film has been plagued with the usual “woke” allegations made by the same people who get into a hissy fit whenever a movie or show features women or minorities. Supergirl is far from perfect but it’s sad to see criticism for this project be so vocal when other worse superhero stories featuring a male lead face much less hate.

In the end, Supergirl is not a failure, but it is a missed opportunity. Milly Alcock proves she can carry the character, and the film successfully distinguishes Kara from Superman while expanding the DCU’s vast universe. However, weak pacing, underused characters, questionable music choices, and a loss of emotional substance prevent it from reaching the heights of the comic that inspired it.

Like Kara herself, the film is messy, wounded, and searching for meaning. Unlike Kara, it does not always find it.