Superman (2025)

The Power of Your Story: A Man Who Chooses to Land
By Peter de Kuster

In the rain-slashed dawn of Metropolis, where skyscrapers claw at storm clouds and the river below churns with the city’s unquiet secrets, Superman (2025) arrives not with the thunder of invincible myth, but the quiet tremor of a man learning to stand still. James Gunn’s rebirth of the Man of Steel—starring David Corenswet in a revelatory performance—reimagines the icon not as untouchable god, but as Clark Kent wrestling the stories others write about him. This is no nostalgia trip or CGI spectacle. It’s a 152-minute masterclass in narrative courage: what happens when the hero stops flying from his own reflection. Rating: ****½ (4.5/5 stars). A triumph that honors legacy while daring to humanize the divine.

The Plot: From Hovering Hero to Grounded Man

The film opens with intimate devastation, not cosmic bombast: Metropolis’s Interstate Bridge buckles at rush hour, cables shrieking as cars dangle over black water. Superman streaks in—late. He wrenches girders, hauls thirty-two souls to safety, cradles a mother and toddler from a plummeting minivan. But one hand—a construction worker’s—slips into the void. Cameras catch the splash. CNN tickers scream “Bridge Failure.” Social media ignites: savior or saboteur?

Cut to Clark at the Daily Planet, glasses fogged, tie askew, stealing glances at Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois Lane—relentless truth-chaser who smells his secret like blood in water. Perry White (Wendell Pierce, gravel-voiced perfection) barks deadlines. Jimmy Olsen (Skyler Gisondo, earnest sparkplug) whispers: “Comments are brutal, man.” Flashbacks ground Clark in Kansas soil: Ma Kent (Neva Howell, hearth-glow warmth) mending his cape, Pa Jonathan (Pruitt Taylor Vince, stoic wisdom) warning: “They’ll love your power until they fear it—then rewrite you as monster.”

Enter Nicholas Hoult’s Lex Luthor—not cackling villain, but sleek Silicon Valley oracle. From his penthouse, Lex remixes bridge footage: slowed-motion failures, mother’s scream amplified, stats overlay: “78% Save Rate. Acceptable?” His Engineer (Maria Gabriela de Faria, nanotech menace) nods silently. Hawkgirl (Isabela Merced) circles unseen. Mr. Terrific (Edi Gathegi) hacks from shadows. Guy Gardner (Nathan Fillion, cocky Lantern bluster) crashes in: “Blue Boy’s soft!”

Act Two fractures Clark threefold. Public trust erodes: councilman rages “Alien WMD!” Lois confronts: “Stop hovering. Land.” Fortress of Solitude activates—Jor-El (Bradley Cooper voice) demands duty, Lara (Angela Sarafyan) pleads humanity, robot Gary (Alan Tudyk) quips diagnostics. Pivotal midnight barn: Clark scrolls vitriol—”Parasite!” “Bridge killer!”—Lois finds him: “You’re not their headline. You’re the man who chooses.”

Climax atop Metropolis General: Lex’s Kryptonite-laced reactor melts down, helicopters whirl smoke, propaganda screens loop failures. Superman hovers—escape fear or feed narrative? Lex broadcasts: “Surrender or Metropolis burns.” Lois, trapped inside, types final column. Clark lands. Microphones swarm. No god-speech: “I’m not your god. Not warning shot. Man with more power than most, trying right. I fail. I fix. I stay.”

Chaos explodes: Engineer nanoswarms, Metamorpho (Anthony Carrigan) mud-walls exits, Gardner blasts wildly. Clark shields patients, heat-visions coolant—Kryptonite sears veins green. Crawls to core, freezes it manually as bridge-hand memory fuels final push. Wakes to Lois at bedside. Smallville porch kiss seals: flawed man, chosen story.

Epilogue teases DCU: Supergirl portal, Maxwell Lord (Sean Gunn) hawks truth-serum. Clark sketches notebook—not deity, but questions.

The Cast: Humanizing Gods and Mortals

David Corenswet is Superman—restrained intensity, farmboy awkwardness lifting bridges casually. Post-Twisters, he makes godhood relatable: fumbled coffee cups ground omnipotence. Shoulders hunch under world’s indecision: angel or threat?

Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois Lane burns ferocious—Maisel Emmy fire chasing caped truth. Not sidekick, narrative equal: “Time to be your own story.” Cuts deeper than laser vision.

Nicholas Hoult’s Lex slithers prophetic—Menu/Nosferatu menace wields algorithms over rays. Frames as weapons: “Predictable savior complex!”

Ensemble shines: Edi Gathegi’s calculating Mr. Terrific; Anthony Carrigan’s shifting Metamorpho; Nathan Fillion’s punch-first Gardner; Isabela Merced’s conflicted Hawkgirl; Maria Gabriela de Faria’s lethal Engineer; Skyler Gisondo’s Jimmy spark; Wendell Pierce’s Perry anchor; Pruitt Taylor Vince/Neva Howell’s grounding Kents. Voices layer myth: Cooper/Sarafyan (Jor-El/Lara), Tudyk (Gary), Rooker/Klementieff (bots). Cena (Peacemaker), Alcock (Supergirl), Gunn (Lord), Reeve (reporter).

Gunn’s direction—Guardians heart, Peacemaker wit—balances spectacle/humanity. John Williams theme swells earned. Visuals: Metropolis neon-noir, Fortress crystal-glow, bridge rain-slick dread.

Why It Works: The Story Power Deconstructed

James Gunn cracks Superman‘s eternal code: true power isn’t invincibility, but persistent choice amid imperfection. This film thrives on “mask moments”—Clark’s cape evolves from protective shield to existential question, forcing him to ask: Does this story still fit me? Every supporting character offers a competing script: Lois Lane demands “Integrity over image,” Perry White insists “Truth over capes,” Lex Luthor hisses “Fear sells clicks,” Ma Kent whispers “Son before symbol.” Clark’s arc isn’t selecting one—it’s daring to author his own: flawed, fixable, staying-power-first.

Gunn balances spectacle and soul flawlessly. The bridge collapse opening—rain-slick dread, one slipping hand—sets intimate stakes higher than any alien armada. Kryptonite climax throbs visceral: veins blackening, Clark crawling through pain fueled by personal ghosts. John Williams’ theme swells only at earned catharsis (porch kiss, rooftop speech), never cheap triumph. Visuals mesmerize: Metropolis’ neon-noir grit, Fortress’ crystal-glow intimacy, bridge rain-slick horror.

Corenswet’s restraint humanizes godhood—fumbled coffee cups ground omnipotence. Brosnahan’s Lois equals, challenges, loves without worshiping. Hoult’s Lex terrifies as idea-virus, not cartoon. Ensemble pops: Fillion’s Gardner blusters hilariously, Pierce’s Perry anchors chaos, Kents radiate hearth-truth.

Flaws exist—Gardner underused, Kryptonite predictable—but they’re pebbles in gold. Gunn honors Christopher Reeve’s warmth while evolving forward: Superman as choice, not destiny. Post-Reeve, post-Snyder, this lands perfectly—hopeful without naivety, powerful without domination. Metropolis doesn’t need saving from monsters; it needs Clark choosing to land messy, stay uncomfortable, own failures publicly.

The rooftop speech alone justifies ticket price: “I’m not your god. Not warning shot. Man trying right.” In The Power of Your Story terms, it’s perfection—narrative ownership amid weaponized public scripts. This Superman doesn’t fly from scrutiny; he lands in it. Legacy honored, future launched. Essential viewing for anyone wrestling their own cape.

Your Mask Moment: Make It Personal

What headlines have others written about you that you never auditioned for? “Too sensitive.” “Not leadership material.” “The reliable one.” “Always the bridesmaid.” Hovering above your own life, waiting for permission to land? A bridge hand slipping that you’d forgive in anyone else?

Reflect deeply:

• What label have you worn so long it feels like skin, when it was just a temporary costume?
• Where do you feel edited, captioned, cropped by family, bosses, ex-lovers, algorithms?
• What personal “Bridge Failure” haunts your 3 a.m. scroll that you’d never judge so harshly in a friend?
• What would change tomorrow if you didn’t need to fit the image others project onto you?

Superman (2025) doesn’t promise perfection. Clark still fails rescues, still bleeds green, still hears “alien” whispered. But he becomes a man who lands—not flying from scrutiny, but standing in it. Ownership over escape. Authorship over reaction.

That’s the real superpower. Not heat vision. Not flight. The courage to say: “This is the story I choose to live.”

Ready to land in your own story? One hour of online story coaching with Peter de Kuster defuses inherited scripts, rewrites assigned roles, and helps you claim narrative authorship. From hovering hesitation to grounded choice. Contact: peterdekuster@hotmail.nl | thepowerofyourstory2016.com