Man of Steel Action Soars, Characters Sink

Rating: 7/10 (17 June 2013)

Man of Steel is an exercise in near-greatness, hamstrung at every turn by a hero's greatest enemy - not a Kryptonian death squad, but a lead-eared script. Zack Snyder's majestic direction, earnest turns from a cast of memorable faces, and a soaring score can't mask a script with a severe identity crisis: is it the tale of a confused and lost loner in search of a home? A man-child who just needs a father figure? A brash reporter looking for an emotional tether to her world? A hero trying to find his courage? It is all and none of these things, which is why Man of Steel remains an exhilarating failure. The biggest weight to carry rests squarely on the broad shoulders of Henry Cavill as Superman. Cavill's stepped from relative obscurity (an earnest turn on The Tudors and a capable performance in Tarsem's blissfully bizarre Immortals notwithstanding) to one of the most iconic characters in fiction. The camera loves Cavill and he fills every shot with a truly resonant stoicism, warmth, and vulnerability. He capably handles both the heroism and the humor of the character, but both are in short supply in the script. When it's time for his character to talk, his performance falls apart. A variety of humanizing themes are toyed with in Cavill's Superman, but none of them ever comes to fruition. His tortured relationship with his human parents is dropped, his search for belonging in the world gets left in the dust, and what we're left with is a very promising performance that only takes flight when Cavill is allowed to eschew the script and inject personality in silent moments: among the best being his poignant catharsis after the film's brutal climax and his unbridled joy at his first flight. Amy Adams exudes a welcome feistiness and ebullience, but her character is only partially developed after a promising introduction. Superman is in love with her because the audience is, but he could only be in love with Amy Adams, as Lois Lane barely exists on the page. The lack of development in their relationship is nowhere more apparent than when Superman thanks her for believing in him 3/4s through the film: at what point did Lois do anything but act as a springboard for the film's endless supply of exposition? Mario Puzo knew enough to give Superman and Lois some genuine banter in the 1978 film. Goyer's script leaves it all to our imagination, for the sake of some glorious, repetitive mayhem. Kevin Costner injects an earthy charm into Jonathan Kent, Superman's adoptive father, but with nothing other than platitudes for him to recite, we never truly believe in his relationship with his son. Its tragic conclusion, while beautifully shot, rings hollow. Diane Lane packs every moment with heartland pluck and tenderness (though the script certainly doesn't), and Russel Crowe once again proves himself one of the screen's most charismatic actors with his majestic turn as Kal El's blood father. But even he is no match for the script's nigh-incomprehensible sci-philo-babble, which he seems embarrassed to spout in the movie's bewildering prologue on Krypton. He is far more comfortable with the moments of genuine tenderness with his wife (well-played by the lovely Ayelet Zurer), his infant son, and the grown son he was forced to give up. The movie's opening scene is a masterpiece of vivid acting and lush staging and film work - but we rush all too quickly into an almost comically flat council chamber sequence full of baffling dialogue we can't be bothered to attempt to understand this early in the film. It is into this ill-wrought fog that Michael Shannon attempts to make his grand entrance as the occasionally menacing Zod. He laudably wrestles through it, but the cheesy space opera lines he's saddled with lead to an at-times borderline comical performance. Shannon finds smaller character moments to imbue his one-note maniac with a very human rage and despair. His botched introduction is remedied by a later scene with Crowe and a very well-played climax, but one can only imagine what kind of monster he could have created with a script worthy of his considerable screen presence. The effects, the art direction, and the magnificently well-staged action sequences almost elevate the movie to the heights of grand entertainment. Zod and Superman's final conflict is easily among the greatest fights ever filmed (or rendered, given the obvious CGI). But in all the sturm and drang, the audience, without an emotional tether to the two dueling behemoths, is left wondering about the poor little pixel people scurrying through the streets as buildings collapse - how noble can Superman be if he lets his rage at Zod blind him to all of the citizens being crushed in his path? Goyer has argued it's the point that Superman is not yet fully aware of his power and the responsibility it comes with, but that simply isn't on the page. Despite Zack Snyder's earnest efforts to elevate the film with his fantastic cinematic eye, it's not on the screen. In the end, the audience fills in much of the gaps in character development and emotional payoff on the strength of the craft work that went into the movie, but we're left wishing that the film's script did more of the work for us. For their flimsiness and crass assembly line quality, the Marvel films have at least generally done some excellent character-building work that Man of Steel could benefit from. The perfect comic book movie would merry the production value of Man of Steel to the spirit of Iron Man 3. Until then, we're left re-watching Christopher Reeves and waiting for Superman to truly take flight.