Directed by Craig Gillespie, the DCU’s second feature tries for a gritty, ‘True Grit’-meets-‘Mad Max’ space western but struggles to find its narrative rhythm.
Following her sharp, door-slamming cameo in last year’s Superman reboot, Milly Alcock steps into her first solo flight as Kara Zor-El in Supergirl. Adapted from Tom King and Bilquis Evely’s acclaimed Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow comic book run, the film serves as the second official entry in James Gunn and Peter Safran’s burgeoning DC Universe. Directed by Craig Gillespie (I, Tonya, Cruella) from a screenplay by Ana Nogueira, this $175 million sci-fi western attempts a bold departure from traditional superhero dynamics. It presents a cynical, hard-drinking protagonist nursing deep-seated Kryptonian PTSD. Yet, despite striking visual craftsmanship and compelling lead performances, the film frequently stalls out in a repetitive, episodic narrative that ultimately struggles to match its stylistic ambitions.
The plot kicks off far from Earth, where a disheveled, Kurt Cobain-shaded Kara is attempting to drown out memories of her crumbling home planet on a dusty, dystopian world. Her torpid ennui is interrupted when she crosses paths with Ruthye Marye Knoll (a fiercely capable Eve Ridley), a young alien teenager out to avenge the slaughter of her father. The target of their mutual wrath is Krem of the Yellow Hills (Matthias Schoenaerts), an odious intergalactic pirate and human trafficker who has not only pillaged Ruthye’s world but has also poisoned Kara’s companion, Krypto the Superdog. Forced into an uneasy alliance, the pair embark on a gritty trek across the cosmos, crossing paths with heavily pierced brigands, alien cantinas, and the cigar-chomping space-bounty hunter Lobo, played with scenery-chewing relish by Jason Momoa.
From a character perspective, the film operates as a tale of two distinct halves. Alcock proves herself an incredibly charismatic presence, perfectly embodying the brittle, punk-rock edge of a reluctant hero who protects herself with sharp humor and cynical armor. She successfully grounds a character who has witnessed real cosmic trauma. However, the screenplay gives her remarkably little internal territory to chart. Kara begins the film as an engaging mess and ends it in largely the same emotional posture. Instead, the heavy lifting of the character growth falls onto Ridley's shoulders. The dynamic between the older, hardened Kryptonian and the idealistic teen warrior forms the genuine emotional center of the film, providing flashes of sisterhood that elevate the material above standard cape fare.
The supporting cast brings varying degrees of effectiveness to the table. Momoa’s Lobo is an absolute blast—a chaotic, motorcycle-riding mountain of muscle swinging a spiked club and commanding every frame he occupies. Conversely, Schoenaerts’ Krem suffers from a script that reduces him to basic, flat villainy. While the actor has a visible good time with eccentric character affectations, Krem rarely registers as a genuinely formidable threat. Brief, tender flashbacks featuring David Krumholtz and Emily Beecham as Kara's doomed parents offer a welcome emotional anchor, and a caring, big-brother cameo from David Corenswet’s Superman beautifully illustrates the contrast between a hero focused on the future and one still nursing old wounds.
Visually, Gillespie builds an immersive, highly textured universe heavily indebted to Mad Max, True Grit, and old-school Star Wars. Cinematographer Rob Hardy captures the cosmic wilderness with scale and precision, making excellent use of practical alien makeup, elaborate prosthetic extras, and immersive world-building that shines in premium formats like IMAX.
The film's primary failure is structural. Clocking in at a compact 108 minutes, Supergirl paces itself awkwardly, moving through numbingly flat stretches despite an abundance of action. The narrative constantly takes a few steps forward and a few steps back, shuffling through an episodic, by-the-numbers "kill the villain, save the dog" drive without achieving true thematic grandeur. Furthermore, the movie's rebellious, punk-rock aesthetic can feel less like an authentic creative statement and more like a calculated corporate pose, occasionally undercut by jarred needle drops.
Ultimately, Supergirl lands as a bumpy but undeniably promising flight for the new DCU. It breaks away from the overcomplicated, lore-heavy backstories that bogged down past superhero cinematic universes, delivering a straightforward, visually distinct genre piece. While the writing doesn't quite possess the depth or originality required to make it an instant classic, Alcock’s ferocious magnetism and the film's stellar technical craft prove there is plenty of fuel left in the tank for this iteration of the character.
Bottom Line: A visually striking, space-western spin on the superhero genre that boasts a standout performance from Milly Alcock, though its short runtime is hampered by flat pacing and a formulaic script.
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