Most superhero movies ask whether the hero can win. Supergirl asks something thornier, whether its hero still believes winning is the point. Kara Zor-El does not arrive on screen as a beacon. She arrives as someone who has already decided the universe will let her down, and quietly dares it to prove her wrong.
That is the bruise at the center of Craig Gillespie’s Supergirl, the second film in the new DC Universe and the rare comic book movie that is more interested in a wounded soul than a world-ending threat. Where David Corenswet’s Superman sees the goodness in everyone, Milly Alcock‘s Kara sees the truth. She was raised on a dying chunk of Krypton, watched everyone she loved slip away, and grew up jaded in all the ways her cousin never had to. This is not a hero who arrives believing in people. It is a hero who has to be argued back into it.
Tonally, the film is a strange and grimy concoction. Picture the punk rock swagger of Guardians of the Galaxy thrown into a blender with the dusty ruthlessness of a Mad Max movie and the bones of a True Grit revenge tale, then set the whole thing loose in the cosmos. There was a real fear going in that this would be another Guardians. One of the common complaints about the DCU projects released so far is how much they carry James Gunn’s singular voice. Thankfully, that is not the case here. Gillespie stamps the film with his own voice and style. There is one scene with a fun cameo that plays very Gunnesque, but it is quick and never overstays its welcome. Essentially, this chaotic mix should not work as well as it does. But for some stretches, it absolutely sings.
The reason it sings has a name, and it is Milly Alcock. She does not play Supergirl so much as she simply is Supergirl. Messy, brash, and full of heart, she commands the screen from the first frame and never lets go. Alcock captures all the tragic nuance of a Kara who has been hardened by loss while still preserving the kind soul underneath, the one she keeps trying to bury. She is funny and chaotic, then quietly devastating when the emotional cues demand it, often in the same breath. It is the kind of performance that carries an entire film on its shoulders, and the moment she dons the suit lands exactly the way it is supposed to.
The best moments, though, are the smallest ones. The quiet, tender beats between Kara and David Krumholtz’s Zor-El are where the movie locates its heart. Krumholtz delivers a small but powerful turn that gives the film its emotional core, and without that anchor, Kara Zor-El’s journey simply would not land the way it does. Strip those scenes away and Supergirl is a fun adventure. With them, it occasionally becomes something more. In addition, the scenes between Milly and David Corenswet are simply wonderful. The juxtaposition between Kara’s jadedness and Clark’s optimistic view of the world is great. I was surprised by how much screen time Corenswet has, and after the way this film ends, I am excited to see these two again in James Gunn’s upcoming Man of Tomorrow.
The supporting players are a blast. Jason Momoa as Lobo is, to put it plainly, a fraggin’ good time. Momoa is clearly having the time of his life with what limited screen time he gets, and he nails everything iconic about the Main Man. He is used just enough that you walk away satisfied and still hungry for more, which is exactly the right amount. Eve Ridley’s Ruthye is a genuine delight, and her sparring, evolving dynamic with Alcock becomes the engine that keeps the whole revenge journey moving. The chemistry between the two is the soul of this adventure.
Where Supergirl falters is in the places you cannot cast your way out of. Ana Nogueira’s script is a well-written adaptation of Tom King and Bilquis Evely’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, not a 1:1 adaptation but faithful to the spirit of the source while carving out room for Lobo and the wider DCU. But much like Kara searching for her own sense of self, the film struggles to find its identity in the editing bay. Essentially, the script gets lost in translation on the way to the screen. The pacing is so brisk that a story built to breathe never quite gets the chance. The first act in particular needed more air. In addition, a little more time on Krypton would have deepened everything that follows. The bones of a great movie are clearly here. The assembly does them a disservice.
It does not help that the villain is the weakest link. Krem of the Yellow Hills should be a towering, personal threat, the embodiment of every wound this story is built around. Despite the best efforts of Matthias Schoenaerts, the character lands underdeveloped, and a flimsy antagonist keeps the film from reaching the heights its hero is reaching for. When your protagonist is this compelling, your villain cannot afford to be an afterthought.
The craft elsewhere is sharp. The practical sets, costumes and effects give the cosmos a tactile, lived-in weight, and it is refreshing to finally have a DC film that plants its flag in the stars, full of strange alien designs, cultures, and worlds. The needle drops mostly land, even if the film would have benefitted from a proper score of its own. There is a scrappy, handmade quality to the action that suits Kara’s bruised attitude perfectly.
For all its messiness, Supergirl is a gritty, heartfelt space adventure that soars far more often than it stumbles. It does not quite reach greatness, held back by a thin villain and an edit that clips its own wings. But it remains a genuinely fun ride, anchored by a star who was born for this role, and a confident sign of where this universe is headed.
