SUPERMAN RETURNS

by Kevin Koehler

Director Bryan Singer's latest superhero opus (following X-Men and its first sequel) is less a mainstream multiplex tentpole extravaganza I’m sure Warner Brothers thought it was getting than it is a two and one-half hour meditation on Christ, humanity's place in the infinite, fathers and sons, and the evils of smoking. It is also the smartest studio film in a long time, which should spell doom for its box office prospects unless churches get behind the Jesus in spandex as they did the Jesus Chainsaw Massacre (otherwise known as The Passion).

Back from a five-year superhero sabbatical spent exploring the cosmos for the remains of his doomed planet Krypton, the titular caped savior (in a wonderfully understated performance by newcomer Brandon Routh) returns to find Earth…well, not exactly as he left it. Arch-nemesis Lex Luther (Kevin Spacey) has been freed from incarceration via a legal loophole, perpetual love interest Lois Lane has seen her heart (not to mention her womb) captured by another (James Marsden), and the city of Metropolis has rather gotten used to not having him around. However, just as current events keep reminding us, our safe, orderly existence is balanced on a house of cards just waiting for a stiff wind (or a megalomaniac) to blow it over.

Overcoming some anemic narrative elements (the writers have taken one of the more ridiculous elements of the first films - the hokey Fortress of Solitude crystals - and made them the centerpiece of this one) and lofty suspension of disbelief (a space alien in blue tights with superhuman powers I can accept, but Kate Bosworth winning a Pulitzer?), Superman Returns is a surprisingly sensitive and intelligent film. Without question, future film students and coffee shop philosophers will have a field day comparing Singer's Passion of the Superman with Martin Scorsese's controversial Last Temptation of the Christ (with whom it shares much thematic kinship). If our generation’s other iconic comic book fable proclaims “with great power comes great responsibility,” Superman reminds that it also comes with great loneliness.

Abundantly clear is Singer’s reverence for the source material. Equally transparent is his antipathy towards Hollywood’s new bogeyman: tobacco. A cigar nearly blows up Metropolis during a pivotal action set-piece while Lois Lane’s frowned-upon fondness for the occasional cigarette serves as the backbone of her character’s growth (from the reaction of her loved ones, you’d think she were shooting crank out of a rusty spoon). No crime is hidden from Superman’s omniscient gaze, even those we commit against ourselves and the public health.

Interesting footnote: As I’m sure many remember, smoking features prominently in the previous Superman films as well. Margot Kidder’s Lois is a heavy smoker, of course. Superman II features a battle where our hero is thrown through the side of a Marlboro truck (anti-smoking groups later protested the company’s obscene level of product placement). In the third installment, Richard Prior splits Superman in two using synthetic Kryptonite laced with tobacco tar.

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