Superman! Superman Superman Superman! Needless to say, I awaited the opening of this film with tremendous excitement. I was so excited, in fact, that I went to see it at its very first showing, even though Nick was unable to see it with me. I saw it again two days later (Nick was with me this time). And a week after that, I saw it in 3D at an IMAX theatre. Truth be told, I could watch it a dozen more times--in a row even, with my eyelids pried open Clockwork Orange-style--and I'd never ever ever be tired of it. Up till now my personal record for number of times viewing a film in the theatre has been 7 (The Matrix). With Supes, I may actually surpass that record. Thanks to this film, you see, I have ascended to the apex of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. I have now reached that sweet spot of self-actualization.

All hail Bryan Singer, the world's great benefactor! Okay, I may be getting carried away, but you get the idea. I loved this movie. It was everything I could have hoped for. It could have gone wrong in a thousand different ways, but somehow it didn't. Somehow it transcended the limitations of the form to become the greatest piece of visual art since the horsie thing stepped on the swoopy-head guy in Picasso's Guernica. Why is it I get all messianic talking about the Man of Steel? Maybe it's because everything about the myth is larger than life, and the language describing it has to be the same. Because true myths are not just stories, you know. They are visions of how we see ourselves as human beings--what we hope for, and what we wish to be.

The film begins with a brief explanation of where Superman has been for the past few years. It seems that five years back, scientists found the remains of Krypton, and Superman immediately took to the skies to see it for himself. Like many adopted children, he essentially went on a quest to find his birth parents, to find that place where he could truly belong and not be an outsider. Now he is back on Earth, burdened with the knowledge that he is the sole survivor of his race, and he has to cope with the way the world and his loved ones have carried on in his absence. These are lonely discoveries for the Man of Steel, and they contribute to the overall sense of melancholy that pervades the film.

But this is not some kind of emo Superman. This Superman is just as charismatic and funny as ever, and his feats and rescues are every bit as impressive as in years past. Maybe more so. And Brandon Routh does a fantastic job of portraying him. With that chiseled jaw and those piercing eyes, he looks as if he was born to play the part. He has the perfect sense of natural poise and, when he's in Kentform, the sense of natural poise trying to disguise itself. As Kent, his mannerisms and nervous tics are an homage to Chris Reeve's interpretation in the 70s films. It's both new and familiar.

Which brings me to another point.

The Superman tale is woven into the fabric of our culture, and that the story simultaneously exists in the past and the present. Superman does not inhabit one point in time; he encompasses an entire continuum. He's much bigger than a single movie, a single comic book, or a single television series. He lives and breathes in our collective subconscious. He is more than the sum of all his parts. Bryan Singer clearly understands this, which is why Superman Returns contains nods aplenty to the 70s movies, including archival footage and recordings of Marlon Brando's majestic Jor-El. Lois Lane still has issues with spelling ("how many f's are in catastrophic?"), and Clark Kent still says "swell." The opening credits were done in the same tubular blue lettering. In addition, much of the clothing and set design was created with a 40s style in mind, hearkening back to Superman's WWII-era origins. The result is really brilliant--it's both modern and timeless. It doesn't feel separate from its predecessors. It feels like an authentic sequel, the natural outgrowth of earlier efforts. And of course, the John Williams score ties it all together, instantly creating the mood, taking us to that happy Superman place in our hearts so that we embrace whatever follows with open arms. With the exception of Superman III & IV, that theme has never led us astray. I get chills whenever I hear it. And when I'm in a dark movie theatre, possibly with a pair of 3D glasses on my lap, that theme makes me positively ecstatic. There's just something about it. Maybe it's because everything we see today is so full of sarcasm and nuanced angst (and being an indie film fan, I do love that), but the Superman theme is just unabashedly majestic, so fearlessly huge in scope. And when combined with the camera's grandiose tour of space from the opening credits, with its supernovas and swoops past ruined planets, it's enough to transport you back to childhood and the kind of awe you had when you first looked up at the night sky and thought about how freaking immense the universe really is.

Anyway, the rest of the cast was great as well. Kate Bosworth made for a good Lois Lane. She's both confident and scattered, affectionate with her family and yet at times completely aloof. Bosworth's Lane is a little more girlie than Margot Kidder's, but she's believable and likable. And of course she retains that insatiable reporter's curiosity that has so often resulted in personal endangerment. It should be noted that all the film versions of Lois are pretty toned down when compared with her portrayal in the comics. The comic book Lois Lane is not just ambitious but outright aggressive, and pretty much fearless. She's kind of scary sometimes, even to me, and it doesn't surprise me that they softened her somewhat for the 70s movies. After all, this was waaaaayyyyy before the era of Lara Croft: Tomb Raider and her generation of powerful yet sexy women.

The requisite villainess in this film is Parker Posey as Kitty Kowalski. Miss Tessmucker left some big ... er ... shoes to fill, but Posey does a great job of flouncing around in glammy outfits and being plenty entertaining on her own. She's simultaneously dumb in the expected way ("Like sea monkeys!"), and yet she can produce a bit of stinging sarcasm when the moment calls for it. ("Gee that's really something, Lex. It's freakin' Gone With the Wind.")

Now let's take a moment to talk about Lex Luthor. In fact, here's an impromptu poem about him:

Criminal extraordinaire
Connoisseur of phony hair
Thinks Clark Kent is super square,
Luthor Luthor Luthor!

Like it? I made that up just now.

WHICH ONE IS SCARIER?

(Caveat: The following paragraph may contain traces of SPOILERS. Those who are allergic to SPOILERS should not read on. I mean it. Seriously, if you haven't seen it, stop reading. Okay, well don't say you weren't warned.)

I think it goes without saying that Kevin Spacey was the sort of hardcore Lex Luthor that we just haven't seen in films to date. I loved Gene Hackman's version--I really did--but he always exuded more of a used-car-salesman vibe than one of actual menace. If anything, he was Herb Tarlek gone rogue. (Okay, that's a little unfair ... I suppose I can't hold Hackman accountable for the sartorial eccentricities of an entire decade.) But clothing aside, you never really believed that he would kill millions of people to further his empire. You never saw him physically assault anyone, much less stab them with a kryptonite shiv. Hackman just didn't give us the kind of formidable physical presence that Spacey does. Spacey's Luthor is not just insane, he's cold-blooded. Cutting Kitty's brakes for real when she was just going to pretend--cold-blooded. Threatening SuperKid with a glowing green tube--cold-blooded. Beating the crap out of Superman just because he can--cold-blooded. Spacey plays him like a modern-day Al Capone, flaunting his mischief with a sociopathic twinkle in his eye. It's funny, not long ago I watched an A&E special about the history of Superman, and I learned that it wasn't until the 80s that Lex Luthor made the switch from mad scientist to business magnate. And it makes sense, doesn't it? Within the context of modern life, there is no greater evil than a businessman. Businessmen are smart and ruthless. They're survivors (as we saw from the show of the same name). I think this was a very, very smart change to the lore, because Luthor's primary function is to be a foil to Superman. On some level, they have to be equals in order to balance out the story. Luthor has to be every bit as evil as Superman is good, and his machinations have to produce the kind of threat that is difficult to manage even for (maybe especially for) Superman. Bank robberies and crimus interruptus are one thing, but who can contend with the malevolence of corporate America? As Luthor observes during the film, Superman is great at swooping out of the sky and saving people, but he's not so hot on the details, like making your court date. This is a brave new world, in which red tape can be a sufficient weapon against a red cape.

(Notice: No SPOILERS beyond this point.)

There are several things in particular that impressed me about what Singer did with this film. For one, the physics of everything was rendered properly (at least to my admittedly untrained eye). When Superman lands the plane in the baseball field, he presses into the cone and a ripple goes through the fuselage, at which point he slowly lowers it from its nose-down position. This isn't the fakey one-handed Superman rescue we're all accustomed to seeing. The stuff that happens to the plane prior to this is also consistent with real-world physics (for example, the weightlessness of the passengers as the plane reaches its apex). Later on, a flare appears around his body as he re-enters the atmosphere. And toward the end of the film he goes rocketing through the windows of a skyscraper in order to catch a falling object. This makes perfect sense doesn't it? Superman would naturally choose the shortest path to his destination. But I don't think I've seen it on film before. Touches like this make the film feel more authentic, as if the action is taking place not in some slick movie world, but in our own.

(Ok, there are a few more SPOILERS in this next paragraph. So sue me.)

Another great thing was Singer's use of imagery and symbolism. This is much trickier than it looks. If executed properly, a conscious symbolism can really enrich the texture of a piece. If it's overwrought, we feel we're being bludgeoned by it, which is the way I sometimes feel when reading Toni Morrison (Ok, I get it! The corn is symbolic! Please stop, for the love of God!). For the most part, Singer succeeds in invoking a number of cultural elements without seeming heavy-handed. I mean, we all know that Superman is the quintessential American hero. He spends time all over the world, but everything about him represents American culture. Therefore, when Singer stages his comeback, it's natural that the backdrop would be a baseball field. Soccer and football may be comparatively more popular these days, but baseball carries with it a uniquely patriotic flavor that has not faded through the years, even in the face of decreasing ticket sales. The scene where the bullet crushes against his eye is also iconic. This is what Superman is all about for us. This is why he's a vessel for our collective hopes and dreams. Here you have the most vulnerable part of the body (at least for a PG-13 film), and a bullet can't so much as scratch the cornea. And just think of the part near the end where Superman falls to earth. Yeah, there's a crapload of Christ imagery there. That's really unavoidable with the Man of Steel, for obvious reasons (Jor-El so loved the world that he gave them his only begotten son...). But it's more than just that. It's positively Wagnerian. It's the twilight of a god. It's that little mark on a geologic timeline that signals the end of an era. This is why the scene is not just tragic--it's heartbreakingly beautiful.

Bravo, Bryan Singer. You rock my world.

Now to touch quickly on the romantic elements of the film. Most of Superman's emotional depth (and humanity, if you can call it that with an alien) has always been conveyed through his somewhat schizophrenic, on-again-off-again relationship with Lois Lane. Singer knows this is and smartly makes the most of it, giving us a complex situation in which Lois Lane has moved on with her life in Superman's absence. She has a live-in boyfriend and a son (oh snap!). Oh yeah, and she is fairly pissed at Superman for running off to Krypton without saying good-bye. It's a delicate situation for the film to navigate, and Singer treads a very fine line with it. It would have been so easy for Superman to come off as a homewrecker in this scenario, what with his occasional spying and his seductive aerial invitations. But it doesn't come off this way, and a lot of this is due to the performances of the actors involved, especially James Marsden, who plays the boyfriend. (Yes, he was Cyclops in the X-men movies, although it took me about thirty minutes to realize this because he wasn't wearing the visor.) He does an excellent job of not being all tearful and victimy. His character is attractive, successful, and imminently likable. At some point, of course, it becomes obvious to him that his girlfriend still has feelings for You-Know-Who (and vice-versa), but he carries this burden with an air of dignified melancholy. And the thing is, Lois clearly cares for him, too. It's a very grown-up scenario, one that is not at all black and white, and I appreciate that about it.

Ok, so to sum things up, Superman Returns is the greatest story ever told (apologies to Charlton Heston, of course)! The scope of the film was so much larger than I expected and contains some of the best action movie sequences in recent memory. One thing, though. What was with that blatant ripoff of 2001: A Space Odyssey? You know what I'm talking about, Bryan. The use of all those weirdly anharmonic voices when Superman was carrying that continent thing into space, just like in those monolith scenes. Call it homage if you will, but I'm onto you. Still, it's pretty effective at conveying a sense of eerie alien grandeur, I'll give you that, and anyway I'd rather movies err on the side of being too conceptually big than too small. I guess it's better to have Kubrick as an idol than the Farrelly brothers.

Four sticks of doom! See this film now--your immortal soul will thank you.