‘Supergirl’ Flies, But Not High Enough

Superhero movies are in a strange place now. Whenever a new one arrives, people ask whether audiences are tired of capes, flying heroes, glowing powers, and world-ending fights. I do not think the problem is that simple. People are not tired of superheroes. They are tired of superhero films that forget to make us care. Big action scenes can still be exciting, but only when there is a real person at the center of them. Supergirl understands this for a while, because Kara Zor-El is the most interesting part of the movie.

Milly Alcock gives Kara a strong, wounded presence. She does not play her like a perfect symbol of hope. This Kara is tired, angry, messy, and clearly carrying too much pain. That makes sense. Superman lost Krypton before he could really know it, but Kara remembers what she lost. She did not just inherit a tragedy; she lived through one. That difference gives her a different kind of sadness. Clark sees the world with faith. Kara sees it with suspicion. He believes people can be good. She has seen enough cruelty to doubt that.

That contrast could have made Supergirl a deeply emotional film. Sometimes, it almost does. Kara moves through the galaxy like someone who has stopped expecting kindness from anyone. She drinks, fights, runs from responsibility, and hides her feelings behind attitude. But underneath that roughness, Alcock shows loneliness. She makes us feel that Kara is not careless because she feels nothing. She is careless because feeling too much has become unbearable. This is where the movie works best. It gives us a heroine who is not trying to look noble. She is simply trying to survive herself.

The story is simple. A young girl named Ruthye Marye Knoll wants revenge after Krem of the Yellow Hills murders her family. Kara becomes part of the mission after Krem also poisons Krypto, her dog. So the film gives us two clear reasons to move forward: Ruthye wants justice, and Kara wants to save Krypto. There is nothing wrong with a simple plot. In fact, superhero films often become worse when they try to do too much. A clean revenge story across strange planets should have been enough.

The problem is that the film does not always give that story enough emotional weight. Ruthye is grieving, but she often feels more like a symbol of revenge than a complete person. Krem is cruel and visually grotesque, but he is not a very memorable villain. He should feel terrifying, especially because the film presents him as a brutal figure who destroys families and exploits the weak. But most of the time, he feels like a target the heroes must chase. A revenge story needs a villain whose presence hangs over every scene. Krem gives the plot direction, but he does not give it much depth.

The film also tries very hard to feel rough and rebellious. It wants to separate Kara from the clean brightness of Superman. So we get dusty planets, dirty space bars, strange aliens, harsh music, ugly violence, and a heroine who does not behave like a traditional hero. Some of this works. It gives the movie its own texture. It tells us that Kara belongs to a darker, more chaotic corner of the universe. But sometimes the movie seems to confuse messiness with meaning. A dirty setting does not automatically create a deep story. A cynical hero is not automatically a complex one.

This is the film’s biggest weakness. It has a painful idea at its center, but it does not always explore it with patience. Kara’s trauma should shape every part of the movie. We should feel her grief slowly changing into responsibility, not because the plot needs her to become heroic, but because she begins to understand that pain does not have to make her cruel. The film touches this idea, but too often it rushes away from it. It gives us action, jokes, creatures, and chases when what we really need is more time with Kara’s silence.

Jason Momoa’s Lobo brings a loud burst of energy. He is ridiculous, wild, and fun to watch. His scenes wake the film up, but they also show how uneven the rest of it can be. David Corenswet’s Superman cameo is more useful because it quietly sharpens Kara’s identity. He represents steady hope. She represents hope that has been damaged and is not sure it can still exist. That is a powerful difference, and the film would have been stronger if it trusted that contrast more.

As an adaptation of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, the film is also mixed. The comic had a strange beauty and a sad moral force. It was not just about revenge in space. It was about grief, mercy, and what people choose to do after being hurt. The film keeps many of the basic pieces, but it loses some of that beauty. Its world feels darker and dirtier, but not always richer. It has the shape of a moving story, but not always the soul of one.

Still, Supergirl is not a bad film. Alcock is too good, and Kara is too interesting, for the movie to feel empty. Krypto gives it an easy but effective emotional pull. Some of the action works. Some of the space-western style has charm. Most importantly, the film proves that Kara can be a valuable part of the new DC Universe. She does not need to be another Superman. Her pain, anger, and doubt make her different.

But the movie around her is uneven. The plot is thin, the villain is weak, and the emotion does not always land as strongly as it should. Supergirl has a real wound at its center, and that is why its flaws are disappointing. There is a better film hiding inside this one: sadder, stranger, and more honest. This Supergirl can fly. I only wish the film had flown higher with her.