At one point in director Zack Snyder’s reimagining of the most iconic American hero, Man of Steel, Superman
tells Lois Lane the snaky symbol on his chest stands for “hope” in
Kryptonian. It represents his lost family’s values, a reminder of the
place from where he came, and the limitless potential bestowed upon his
shoulders.
It’s a shame the film doesn’t live up to exploring those ideas.
Man of Steel is an agonizing movie. There seems to be a heartbeat of an original take on the ageless American hero -- a story begging to burst out with compassion, sympathy, and intrigue -- but regretfully remains buried under the rubble of yet another loud, crass, exploitational collection of wanton destruction porn.
What is so off in director Zack Snyder’s more “dark” and “serious” reimagining of the titular hero? Well for one, he no longer feels like a hero. Superman should be the quintessential good guy -- the man who rescues kittens from trees, saves crashing planes, and fights (but does not kill!) the occasional bad guy. He’s a protector, a savior. The purest White Knight to Nolan’s Dark Knight.
But in the hands of the fetishistically superficial director Zack Snyder, Man of Steel is about as subtle as a ton of bricks. He grimaces and frowns and wanders with a wooden, empty charisma. Snyder seems to mistake the act of emoting for the presence of emotion -- his characters strive to contort their faces in bouts of anger, fear, and confusion without ever making us feel anything. It’s all a useless exercise in creating the illusionary resemblance of importance and sympathy without first laying the necessary groundwork of actual human interaction.
But more than the simplistic caricatures, the CGI mass destruction in the film’s bloated third act is overwrought, nonsensical, and unnecessary. In hindsight, I don’t think Superman even had as many as ten lines in the second half of the film -- a feat not so unbelievable after witnessing the amount of sheer carnage imposed on our eardrums and eyeballs. Somewhere, even Michael Bay is shaking his head in disbelief...
This emphasis on a city-wide attack is cheap, shallow, and exploitative. Similar to the overblown finale in recent summer blockbusters such as Star Trek Into Darkness, Superman and Zod duel with little thought or remorse for those around them, inflicting planetary devastation on a scale hundreds of times larger than 9/11. The tapping of the 9/11 imagery is not unimpeachable -- it is this generation’s shared catastrophe, after all -- but in Man of Steel, the resemblances are crass, imitating the devastation of the attacks with no real acknowledgment of any death, pain, or moral consequences that follow such a cataclysmic event. Indeed, Glen Weldon notes,
It’s a shame the film doesn’t live up to exploring those ideas.
Man of Steel is an agonizing movie. There seems to be a heartbeat of an original take on the ageless American hero -- a story begging to burst out with compassion, sympathy, and intrigue -- but regretfully remains buried under the rubble of yet another loud, crass, exploitational collection of wanton destruction porn.
What is so off in director Zack Snyder’s more “dark” and “serious” reimagining of the titular hero? Well for one, he no longer feels like a hero. Superman should be the quintessential good guy -- the man who rescues kittens from trees, saves crashing planes, and fights (but does not kill!) the occasional bad guy. He’s a protector, a savior. The purest White Knight to Nolan’s Dark Knight.
But in the hands of the fetishistically superficial director Zack Snyder, Man of Steel is about as subtle as a ton of bricks. He grimaces and frowns and wanders with a wooden, empty charisma. Snyder seems to mistake the act of emoting for the presence of emotion -- his characters strive to contort their faces in bouts of anger, fear, and confusion without ever making us feel anything. It’s all a useless exercise in creating the illusionary resemblance of importance and sympathy without first laying the necessary groundwork of actual human interaction.
But more than the simplistic caricatures, the CGI mass destruction in the film’s bloated third act is overwrought, nonsensical, and unnecessary. In hindsight, I don’t think Superman even had as many as ten lines in the second half of the film -- a feat not so unbelievable after witnessing the amount of sheer carnage imposed on our eardrums and eyeballs. Somewhere, even Michael Bay is shaking his head in disbelief...
This emphasis on a city-wide attack is cheap, shallow, and exploitative. Similar to the overblown finale in recent summer blockbusters such as Star Trek Into Darkness, Superman and Zod duel with little thought or remorse for those around them, inflicting planetary devastation on a scale hundreds of times larger than 9/11. The tapping of the 9/11 imagery is not unimpeachable -- it is this generation’s shared catastrophe, after all -- but in Man of Steel, the resemblances are crass, imitating the devastation of the attacks with no real acknowledgment of any death, pain, or moral consequences that follow such a cataclysmic event. Indeed, Glen Weldon notes,
Over and over again, [Snyder] lingers on a damaged skyscraper to show it crumbling languidly into rubble and rebar, as screaming citizens flee in terror … It feels sour and cynical, like an attempt to elicit visceral reactions by siphoning emotive force from our communal memories of a very real horror … Man of Steel's violence doesn't escalate; it simply, tediously, iterates.
This is a sad and disturbing point to make but is Snyder really hoping we don’t notice the allusions to 9/11? And if he does indeed understand the gravity of that resonant imagery, does he truly believe there is some cathartic relief in reliving such terrors? What is the endgame of showing such destruction in unflinching detail? Surely, it’s no longer purely for entertainment’s sake. It might be to create an easily recognizable scenario -- one which all of us collectively still remember -- and mine it for maximum sympathy. And if that is indeed the case, Snyder deserves even less respect than the miniscule amount he conjures from this film.
But beyond all of the fatal flaws of the modern summer blockbuster -- flaws which this film invariably follows like a recipe: Why does Zod demand Lois board his ship? (The film needs the underdeveloped female lead to stay involved in the story!) Why fly Superman’s shuttle in a military cargo plane and not just have Superman throw it directly into the World Engine? (To glorify the US Military forces, who also need to stay involved in the story!) How did Lois follow Superman and Zod’s climactic battle across miles and miles of Metropolis airspace? (She’s the female lead who needs to stay involved in the story...) Why do Superman and Lois kiss atop a smoldering heap of burning bodies? (See reasons above... kind of.) -- the gravest error in Man of Steel is simply its lack of fun. It’s joyless. Boring. Forgettable. For all the attempts at developing the Clark Kent backstory -- confrontations with bullies, rude truckers, and natural disasters -- it seems that this hero’s superpower is not unconditional protection, but undeveloped restraint.
This is all such a shame because I recognize something inherently more interesting and more important brewing at the heart of Man of Steel. Strip away all of the smoking heaps of rubble and you’re left with a resonant story of an immigrant -- ostracized, marginalized, perhaps even demonized? It’s a tale of a son, abandoned by his parents, so that he may have a chance to help a world better than his ancestors' -- a son given a second chance to become something his father never could. It’s a reflection of a child’s turbulent attempts to assimilate in a foreign land and a man’s failed attempts at reconciling the internal chasm between filial obligation and conscious choice.
It’s this type of allegorical resonance that has kept the Superman mythos alive for 75 years. It’s the stories of fathers and sons, heroes and villains, strange new lands and worn comfortable homes. Acceptance. Protection. For a man with infinite power, indestructible to any Earthly element, Superman’s humanity lies in his unflinching morals, his steadfast dedication to being inherently better than what humanity is or can be. Superman’s reason to exist lies in his belief that humanity is good, that we are worth protection, that hope in the midst of failure is the greatest weapon of all.
It’s a pity Snyder couldn’t understand what made Superman super in the first place.
But beyond all of the fatal flaws of the modern summer blockbuster -- flaws which this film invariably follows like a recipe: Why does Zod demand Lois board his ship? (The film needs the underdeveloped female lead to stay involved in the story!) Why fly Superman’s shuttle in a military cargo plane and not just have Superman throw it directly into the World Engine? (To glorify the US Military forces, who also need to stay involved in the story!) How did Lois follow Superman and Zod’s climactic battle across miles and miles of Metropolis airspace? (She’s the female lead who needs to stay involved in the story...) Why do Superman and Lois kiss atop a smoldering heap of burning bodies? (See reasons above... kind of.) -- the gravest error in Man of Steel is simply its lack of fun. It’s joyless. Boring. Forgettable. For all the attempts at developing the Clark Kent backstory -- confrontations with bullies, rude truckers, and natural disasters -- it seems that this hero’s superpower is not unconditional protection, but undeveloped restraint.
This is all such a shame because I recognize something inherently more interesting and more important brewing at the heart of Man of Steel. Strip away all of the smoking heaps of rubble and you’re left with a resonant story of an immigrant -- ostracized, marginalized, perhaps even demonized? It’s a tale of a son, abandoned by his parents, so that he may have a chance to help a world better than his ancestors' -- a son given a second chance to become something his father never could. It’s a reflection of a child’s turbulent attempts to assimilate in a foreign land and a man’s failed attempts at reconciling the internal chasm between filial obligation and conscious choice.
It’s this type of allegorical resonance that has kept the Superman mythos alive for 75 years. It’s the stories of fathers and sons, heroes and villains, strange new lands and worn comfortable homes. Acceptance. Protection. For a man with infinite power, indestructible to any Earthly element, Superman’s humanity lies in his unflinching morals, his steadfast dedication to being inherently better than what humanity is or can be. Superman’s reason to exist lies in his belief that humanity is good, that we are worth protection, that hope in the midst of failure is the greatest weapon of all.
It’s a pity Snyder couldn’t understand what made Superman super in the first place.
