“Supergirl,” which came out in theaters on June 26, has been widely deemed a failure by fans and critics alike, but is it really? (Image Courtesy of MSN & ScreenRant)
Alexia: Hi! I’m Alexia Bailey, a junior here at the University of Colorado Boulder. Because I’ve been here and seen things, I’m here to share everything I’ve picked up so far, which is a surprising amount of information. “What’s Eating at Alexia” is my unofficial and unfiltered guide to some of the things that being a CU Boulder Buff brings. Think of it as your guide to navigating everything that makes CU Boulder, well, CU Boulder. Whether you’re a freshman finding your footing or a senior with “no body, no crime” level grievances about finals week, I’m here to share my takes, tips and honest observations on everything from the sometimes-unpredictable choices that CU Boulder makes to navigating online controversies that surround and impact college life. College is a wild, unforgettable ride, and “What’s eating at Alexia” is here to make sense of some of it, one opinion at a time.
“Supergirl” premiered in theaters on June 26, earning a minuscule $37.1 million at the domestic box office in its opening weekend, a figure that quickly prompted headlines labeling the film a disappointment. Dearest readers, I wish I could say that I’m surprised.
You see, the conversation surrounding Supergirl’s character began long before people bought tickets. Months before its release, social media platforms were flooded with complaints that the film had ruined the protagonist by making her the “female Superman” and by not following the popular comic “Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow,” which the film was supposedly an adaptation of, according to The Vulture.
However, I feel that much of that criticism rests on the false premise that there is one definitive version of Kara Zor-El. In reality, creatives have reimagined comic book characters for decades. Batman has been everything from a campy television icon to a brooding vigilante. Superman has evolved with every generation, as he must in order to survive. Yet female superheroes are rarely afforded that same creative flexibility. Instead, they are expected to perfectly mirror a single interpretation, and any deviation is treated as evidence that the character has been misunderstood.
Maybe that’s why I found myself sitting in the theater with a very different perspective than many of the loudest voices online. I wasn’t walking in as someone looking to fact-check every scene against a panel of a comic book. I was walking in as someone who has loved Kara Zor-El for years. I’ve been an outspoken fan of the character for over a decade. My first introduction to Kara came through The CW’s TV series “Supergirl,” where Melissa Benoist’s earnest, endlessly hopeful portrayal cemented the character in my heart. That admiration snowballed into a secret TikTok editing account with thousands of followers, countless hours spent reading fan fiction starring Zor-El and Katie McGrath’s Lena Luthor, and yes, years of defending a character who has never quite received the respect afforded to her male counterparts.
So when the lights dimmed on June 26, I wasn’t looking for a perfect adaptation. I was looking for Kara, and readers, I’m still trying to figure out if I found her.
In short, the film follows Kara Zor-El, played by Milly Alcock, Superman’s (David Corenswet) traumatized, often intoxicated and morally conflicted cousin, as she embarks on an unlikely quest across the galaxy. After the villainous Krem of the Yellow Hills (Matthias Schoenaerts) poisons her beloved dog, Krypto, Kara reluctantly joins forces with a determined young alien girl named Ruthye (Eve Ridley), who is seeking revenge against Krem for the murder of her father. What begins as a simple revenge mission evolves into a simple, yet powerful story about grief. But despite this compelling premise, “Supergirl” is a film at war with itself. For every thoughtful exploration of Kara’s grief, there is a creative decision that undercuts the very character it is trying to build.
First, I did not enjoy the character of Lobo, played by Jason Momoa. The character felt remarkably shallow, existing more as a plot device than as a fully realized antagonist. More frustratingly, his role ultimately reinforced the tired cliché that a female protagonist needs to be rescued in the film’s climactic moments. After spending two hours watching Kara prove herself as capable, the decision to undercut her agency with a last-minute intervention from Lobo felt at odds with the story the film had been trying to tell. Momoa’s performance didn’t do the character many favors, either. Rather than disappearing into the role, it often felt as though he was simply playing a louder, more exaggerated version of himself. Lobo had no meaningful character arc, no discernible motivations beyond causing chaos, and little emotional depth. He was simply bad because the script needed someone to be (and even this is debatable). In a film that gave its protagonist nuanced emotional development, that kind of one-dimensional villain felt like an undercut to the character of Supergirl itself.
Additionally, I felt that, ironically, one of my other biggest criticisms of the film is the very thing I’ve spent this entire article defending: its interpretation of Kara’s origin. Borrowing from “Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow”, the film depicts Kara as being born after Krypton’s destruction, growing up in the surviving fragment of Argo City as she watches her home and loved ones slowly die from Kryptonite poisoning. When Argo City can no longer sustain life, her father, Zor-El (David Krumholtz), sends her to Earth to live with her younger cousin, Kal-El, better known as Superman.
My favorite, and arguably the most recognizable version of Kara’s origin story, is the one in which she is already a teenager when Krypton explodes. She is sent to Earth in an escape pod shortly after her infant cousin, Kal-El, with a simple mission to protect him. But, through one circumstance or another (the explanation changes depending on the medium), Kara’s pod is delayed in space. By the time she finally reaches Earth, the baby she was supposed to raise has grown into the world’s greatest superhero. Instead of becoming his protector, she must grapple with the fact that she no longer has a purpose, all while mourning the home and family she vividly remembers. This story is what makes her the morally grey antihero that I have come to know and love. And yes, while I do feel that the story that director Craig Gillespie gave a fair explanation as to why Kara is always in a drunken stupor, I don’t feel that Gillespie fully explains the woman she becomes throughout the movie. For me, the traditional origin provides a stronger emotional foundation for her anger and the difficult choices she makes throughout her journey.
Yet, despite both of those criticisms, I can’t bring myself to say I disliked “Supergirl.” In fact, Milly Alcock’s performance is, without question, the heart of the film. Hearing her quietly utter, “Krypton didn’t die in a day. The gods are not that kind,” tells you everything you need to know about the woman she’s portraying. The pain, the rage and the utter grief that Kara expresses through just screaming in space with tears in her eyes did more for the story than Lobo ever could. Alcock ensures that Supergirl isn’t just her pain, however. Beneath the sarcasm, self-destructive habits and reluctant heroism is the same compassionate young woman who has defined Supergirl for generations. She captures the push and pull between someone desperate to be left alone and someone who cannot help but save people anyway. Even when I disagreed with the screenplay, I never doubted Alcock’s understanding of Kara.
I also really appreciated the minimal screen time Superman got. I mean, it would have been so very easy for the writers to lean on the Man of Steel to elevate Kara’s story, but instead, they wisely allowed him to remain a supporting figure. David Corenswet’s limited screen time serves as a reminder that this is Kara’s story, not Clark’s. His appearances establish their relationship without overshadowing the Kara, giving her space to make her own choices and ultimately define what kind of hero she wants to become. In my opinion, this creative decision highlights one of the most compelling differences between the cousins.
Superman is guided by an unwavering belief that there is good in everyone, that every life is worth saving if there is even the slightest chance of redemption. Kara, on the other hand, arrives at a very different conclusion. By choosing to kill Krem at the end of the film rather than spare him, she rejects the idealism that so often defines Superman. Whether viewers agree with her decision or not, it underscores that Kara is not simply a female Clark Kent. She has endured a different life, carries different scars and as a result, approaches justice through a different moral lens.
For a character who has spent decades being dismissed as “Superman’s cousin,” allowing her philosophy to diverge so dramatically from his was one of the film’s strongest choices. It reminded audiences that Kara Zor-El has always been her own hero.
So, when I’m asked whether I found Kara, my answer is: yes…just not the one I was expecting. She isn’t the version I’ve grown up with or the one I’ve defended for the last decade. She’s different, rougher around the edges, more haunted and, at times, harder to recognize. But beneath those differences is still the young woman whose defining trait has always been her humanity. She may not be my definitive Supergirl, but she is undeniably Kara Zor-El. And if this film is the beginning of her journey rather than the finished product, I can only hope audiences give her the same grace they’ve long afforded her male counterparts, the chance to grow.
Contact CU Independent Managing Editor Alexia Bailey at Alexia.Bailey@colorado.edu
