Supergirl
- Young Critic

- Jun 29
- 4 min read
Kara Zor-El Arrives, the Film Around Her Does Not

The DC superhero universe has been immersed in bad timing throughout the last three decades. After jumpstarting the superhero genre with Superman (1978) and Batman (1989), the studio fell behind as Sony surfed the initial rise of the genre's popularity with Spider-Man (2002) and its sequels, and later Marvel became Hollywood's crown jewel with its cinematic universe. Playing catch-up with overstuffed and incongruous films such as Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016) and Justice League (2017), DC essentially rebooted itself under new studio leadership, poaching a Marvel talent to become its guiding light in James Gunn. Despite having a creative mind and film director behind the new universe, this new DC world arrives at a time of ingrained superhero fatigue, amid another studio ownership change, and with yet another rushed and incongruous creative vision. Superman (2025) was the kickoff to this new universe, and while Peacemaker (2021-2025) season 2 proved an intriguing second chapter, it's the new Supergirl (2026) that marks the true second cinematic entry into Gunn's new superhero playground.
Supergirl is the second film in the new DC universe and follows the eponymous superhero, another Kryptonian survivor named Kara (Milly Alcock), who isn't a big fan of staying on Earth with her virtuous cousin Clark Kent (David Corenswet) and instead visits other planets and their alien inhabitants, whose red suns allow her powers to dial down and let her get drunk and enjoy herself. Accompanied always by her superpowered dog Krypto, the reluctant hero Kara finds herself entangled in a revenge quest by the young Ruthye (Eve Ridley) against the nihilistic and heavily pierced raider Krem (Matthias Schoenaerts).
Supergirl is the first film to which Gunn has handed off the creative reins fully, to screenwriter Ana Nogueira (her first feature script) and prolific director Craig Gillespie. Gillespie is no stranger to mainstream fare, having helmed the Disney villain film Cruella (2021), an enjoyable if largely forgettable romp. He has always felt more at home in grounded, more independent territory, such as in his breakout film Lars and the Real Girl (2007) or I, Tonya (2017). His cadence, tone, and sense of humor are similar to Gunn's in those films, yet not every director is able to maintain their style and signature tone on large studio productions. Because Gunn decided to drop into a ready-made universe rather than build it one film at a time, this proves a crushing weight for Supergirl. The result is that Nogueira and Gillespie flee from exploring much of Gunn's universe and choose instead to fly off to disposable planets and characters unlikely to become meaningful additions to the connected universe.
A self-contained film can work wonders in place of blunt exposition and sequel setup. Sadly, Supergirl doesn't take much advantage of this either. There is the semblance of an arc in the reluctant hero becoming a plain do-gooder, yet it's a tired beat and one that you don't sense the filmmakers have any real interest in exploring. There isn't much sense of verve or passion in exploring this world and these characters; instead it almost feels like an assignment that, while delivered competently by checking all the necessary boxes, appears to have been more of a narrative and creative chore than an exciting new step in a colorful world.
Even the social commentary, wherein the raiders are shown to be manosphere exaggerations of masculinity who enslave women for procreation, is treated with a sideways glance rather than as a true opportunity to explore these dynamics with a female superpowered protagonist. The question of gender doesn't seem to be addressed in any meaningful way beyond that obligatory contrast, which allows this Supergirl to slot in alongside the rest of the female superheroes whose empowerment is illustrated as "they're just as violent as the boys." The alternative isn’t to be a damsel in distress or a clichéd girlish stereotype; it could instead explore the moral greyness of it all, and dare to examine the oversimplified gender dynamics (and sexualization) that comic books have long applied to female characters. Perhaps that is too much to ask of a DC film, yet one grows frustrated that Supergirl has so little to say or add to the conversation.
The film is aided by a committed cast, with Alcock leading the way. The young Australian wowed audiences in her breakout role in House of the Dragon (2022-), and it's clear why Gunn wanted to put her on the big screen immediately. Alcock brings an effortless charisma and charm that win viewers over instantly, and her ability to deliver cheesy one-liners or reveal a Kara of greater depth than her generic backstory is a genuine saving grace of the film. Schoenaerts, meanwhile, has been given one of the most flat and binary villains in a superhero film since Thor: The Dark World(2013), yet is having such a blast that he instantly imbues Krem with a merciless foreboding and nihilistic glee that made me genuinely shiver in certain scenes. The sad waste of the film is Jason Momoa, who plays the immortal bounty hunter Lobo but barely appears in two scenes and could be removed entirely without the narrative changing at all.
The creative design of the various worlds continues to hold up from Gunn’s previous work, from the alien character design to the costuming and props, showing a spark of originality that is sorely needed here. In fact, I found myself more absorbed in deciphering a creature's anatomy in several scenes than in following much of the plot. Sadly, a great deal of this creative energy is watered down by the overuse of CGI, which once again ranges from dizzying fight sequences to entire locations that are clearly on a greenscreen, with even our characters occasionally looking slightly unfinished when floating in space.
In the end, Supergirl is yet another stumble in this nascent DC universe. I wasn't the biggest fan of an overstuffed and disorganized Superman, and this follow-up feels both rushed and passionless, leading me to wonder whether the current creative leadership has much of a story to tell with these characters. Gillespie is drowned by the studio machinery, and a lackluster script squanders much of what is otherwise the entirely praiseworthy work of Alcock in the lead role.
4.8/10


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