ONE SUPERMAN AND HIS DOG
Watching the latest Superman movie with a friend last night, I found it fascinating how thinly disguised the story’s political narrative was, clearly alluding to a certain ongoing conflict in the Middle East.
The film opens just after Superman (David Corenswet) intervenes to prevent an invasion by Boravia (Israel) of its neighbour, Jarhanpur (Palestine), triggering a diplomatic and political crisis for America and Washington—now advised by tech entrepreneur and megalomaniac Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult).
It seems that art imitates a version of reality in this rarely subtle comic book movie, directed by James Gunn—famously fired by Disney for offensive tweets about rape, pedophilia, 9/11, and the Holocaust. Perhaps the controversial director sees his redemption arc, following his cancellation, as entwined with that of Superman’s. Through the film, he wields several barely disguised symbolic axes, all while promoting a return to the cereal-box optimism of the red-caped hero—as if postmodernism never happened.
Gunn’s Superman feels like a deliberate ‘fuck you’—a hyperactive, E-number-fueled rejection of the grey, joyless Randian earnestness of Zack Snyder’s Man of Steel (2013), yet another failed attempt to reinvent the red-caped wonder. Ideologically, it’s clear this is a Superman determined to overcome the perils of the Trump era—with its fake news, tech bros, and nefarious military entanglements.
However, the film can’t quite shake the grubbiness of its disengenious attempt at wholesomeness—like a serial sex offender offering advice on abstinence. There’s something deeply suspect about the project, something symptomatic of the West’s broader identity crisis, as our divided cultures continue to bury once-unifying pop culture icons under layers of ideological confusion.
I did like the dog though.
One last thing.
Perhaps there’s a jealous part of me that would have liked a crack at writing a Superman screenplay—especially since the original Christopher Reeve films were such a huge part of my childhood, right alongside Star Wars and Indiana Jones.
I remember watching Superman IV: The Quest for Peace at the cinema, not long after getting a bloodied nose from an older kid during a random street fight one summer. After the final credits rolled, I went back to look for him—determined to get revenge, inspired by the rousing fanfare of John Williams’s iconic theme.
Perhaps it was a good thing I never found him. My path, it turned out, was one of peace—not war.
For those interested, I did write a few isolated Superman scenes in story form for Digital Renegade a few years back, which I’ll link to below.
Of course, it’s easy to write a fragment of anything. Much harder to complete the bigger picture.
If I were ever to write a full Superman screenplay, I might explore the idea of multiple Supermen—artificial copies except for the original Krypton version—across different countries, each shaped by the values of their nation’s culture. World War 3 would unfold, with each Superman fighting according to their nation’s unique ethics (or lack thereof) and approach to battle.
Either that, or a version where Clark Kent relinquishes his powers (just like in Superman II), but this time can’t get them back and has to live out the rest of his life as a mortal.
As failed screenwriter Joe Gillis quips in Sunset Boulevard (1950), "They'll love it in Pomona."