Supergirl: Hangover in Space (With Occasional Laser Violence)
If Superman is the polite chap who holds the door open and says “after you,” Supergirl appears to be the one who kicks the door off its hinges, sets it on fire, and then asks if anyone fancies a drink under a red sun.
DC’s upcoming Supergirl is not here for your wholesome, farm-raised heroics. Oh no. This Kara Zor-El arrives with trauma, attitude, and what looks suspiciously like a galaxy-wide revenge itinerary. Think less “truth, justice, and the American way” and more “truth, justice, and where did I leave that sword.”
Milly Alcock steps into the boots of Krypton’s most complicated export, and from the sound of things, this is not a character who grew up hugging cows in Kansas. Raised on a fragment of a dying world and forced to watch it crumble around her, Kara has all the emotional stability of a neutron star on espresso. Naturally, she copes by hopping between planets, occasionally getting gloriously tipsy under red suns where her powers don’t function, which is either a clever bit of lore or the universe’s most expensive pub crawl.
The plot kicks off with Kara celebrating her 23rd birthday, which for most people involves cake and regret. For her, it involves a dog named Krypto, a starship, and soon enough, a small matter of vengeance. Enter Ruthye, a young girl with a tragic backstory and a burning need for justice, which in cinematic terms translates to “please escort me across the galaxy while we make increasingly questionable decisions.”
Opposing them is Matthias Schoenaerts as Krem of the Yellow Hills, a man who sounds like he should be selling artisan cheese but is instead leading a gang of space brigands and human traffickers. He is, in short, the sort of villain who practically begs to be thrown through several walls.
And then, because this is DC and subtlety is for other studios, Jason Momoa shows up as Lobo, an intergalactic bounty hunter whose hobbies include violence, more violence, and possibly stopping for snacks between acts of violence. His presence suggests that at some point the film may briefly turn into a buddy road movie, if your idea of a buddy is someone who might casually destroy a moon.
Tonally, this all sounds rather different from the freshly pressed optimism of Superman. Early glimpses hint at something closer to a cosmic western, a dusty revenge tale stretched across multiple planets, with shades of True Grit and John Wick echoing through the void. There are whispers of nine different worlds, each with their own quirks, languages, and presumably at least one bartender who’s seen it all.
Visually, it’s shaping up to be a proper space opera feast, with IMAX cameras capturing Kara’s emotional state in increasingly energetic camera work. Calm equals smooth and serene. Angry equals “has someone strapped the camera to a runaway shopping trolley?” Which, given the premise, should happen rather a lot.
Behind the scenes, this film marks DC’s ongoing attempt to rebuild itself into something resembling a coherent universe. After years of tonal whiplash, cancelled projects, and the occasional existential crisis, Supergirl is part of the grand “Gods and Monsters” plan. Whether that plan results in cinematic glory or another round of polite coughing remains to be seen, but at least this time they seem to know what sort of story they’re telling.
Here at SFcrowsnest magazine, there’s something rather refreshing about a superhero who isn’t trying to be endlessly inspirational. Kara doesn’t seem interested in speeches or symbols. She’s angry, bruised, occasionally drunk, and very much done with everyone’s nonsense. Which, frankly, might make her the most relatable Kryptonian yet.
Come June, audiences will find out if this harder-edged Supergirl can carry a film without slipping into grimdark parody. But if nothing else, we can be reasonably certain of one thing.
If someone wrongs her, they won’t just get a stern talking-to.
They’ll get the full, interstellar, red-sun-hangover version of consequences.
