A disappointing summer blockbuster. The film itself is the answer to Lois Lane's Pullitzer winning article, "Why the world doesn't need Superman." When the lights dimmed for the start of the film, the mainly adult audience applauded. This was their chance to relive their childhood, but a more effects laden childhood.
Superman is just as geeky as Clark Kent, and the choice of James Marsden (who plays Cyclops in the X-Men series) as Lois Lane common law husband is a bad one. You half expect him exhibit some superhuman strength and save Lois in times of trouble. The silly hairdresser's nightmare S-curl is ever-present. Superman goes underwater, comes back out, curl remains the same. Surely the filmmakers know a 12A audience are old enought not to buy that guff. Besides, no hair spray is that good.
Brandon Routh looks like Superman should, and Kevin Spacey as Lex Luthor is about the best thing in the film, constantly stealing scenes. The relationship between Clark and Lois is as exciting as a wet, bacteria-infested kitchen rag. Lois now has a little sprog, Jason, who is Superman's seed. So they say. There aren't enough clues as to whether Superman and Lois Lane had a proverbial post-coital cigarette, shortly after they supposedly made little Jason. They were in love, they spent a night together, but did they do the dirty? Who knows.
There are also some Christian allusions drawn in the film. Superman is his father's only son, who's been sent to save the world. After his last heroic act of the film, he falls into a deep coma, possibly even dead. He spends some time there. Three days? When the nurse goes back into the room, he's not there. Has his body been stolen? Nah. He is risen. Superman is always there, omnipotent and omnipresent.
My main beef with Superman though, is his costume. In his five year trawl through space, he must have discovered starch. His leather cape always looks starched. It still flutters, but remains solid nonetheless. The shoes look like they could have come from "Shoefayre", the ones where the shop has had a closing down sale for as long as one can remember, and where everything is BOGOF. Underpants on top of tights are a fashion no-no in the noughties, and should be left in the 20th century. Apologies, but no concessions should even be made for the Man of Steel. Above all, where is his crotch? What kind of man wears briefs and his "bits" don't have a bulge. Not even slightly. Where did it all go? Very worrying.
Superman, go back to Krypton.