Supergirl has always been a character of contradictions—a symbol of hope and strength, yet often relegated to the shadows of her more famous cousin, Superman. The latest iteration of her story, as seen in the new film, is no exception. But what makes this version particularly fascinating is how it flips the script on everything we thought we knew about Kara Zor-El. Instead of the radiant, all-American hero we’ve come to expect, we get a cantankerous, galaxy-hopping party girl who’s more interested in getting drunk on planets with red suns than saving the day. Personally, I think this bold reinvention is both a risk and a revelation. It’s a Supergirl for a post-ironic age, one who’s exhausted, disillusioned, and yet somehow still compelling.
The Supergirl We Didn’t Know We Needed
Milly Alcock’s portrayal of Kara is a far cry from Melissa Benoist’s sunny interpretation in the CW series. This Kara is rough around the edges, sporting a cowboy duster coat and a permanent scowl. One thing that immediately stands out is her costume—or rather, her lack of one. Gone is the impractical super-skirt of the 1984 film; instead, we get a character who looks like she’d rather be at a dive bar than fighting intergalactic villains. What this really suggests is that the filmmakers are trying to humanize Kara, to strip away the sheen of perfection and show us a hero who’s flawed, tired, and maybe even a little bitter. It’s a refreshing take, but it also raises a deeper question: Can a superhero still inspire if they’re not aspirational?
A Western in Space—Or Is It?
The film draws heavily from Tom King and Bilquis Evely’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, which itself is a reimagining of True Grit. Kara’s partnership with Ruthye Knoll, a young orphan seeking revenge, echoes the dynamic between Rooster Cogburn and Mattie Ross. What many people don’t realize is how well this Western framework fits into the superhero genre. The vast, lawless expanse of space becomes the perfect frontier for a story about redemption and survival. However, the film stumbles when it abandons this premise in favor of a Mad Max: Fury Road aesthetic. The shift feels jarring, like the filmmakers couldn’t decide whether they wanted to make a character study or a blockbuster. In my opinion, this is where the movie loses its way—it tries to be too many things at once and ends up feeling unfocused.
The Problem with Studio Interference
One of the most frustrating aspects of the film is the inclusion of Lobo, a character who feels shoehorned into the narrative. From my perspective, this is a classic case of studio executives second-guessing their audience. The fear that a female-led film won’t appeal to young male viewers is not only outdated but also deeply misguided. What this really suggests is that Hollywood still hasn’t fully embraced the idea that women can carry a blockbuster on their own. It’s a depressing reminder of how far we still have to go in terms of representation and storytelling. Personally, I think the film would have been stronger without Lobo, allowing Kara and Ruthye’s relationship to take center stage.
The Visuals: A Missed Opportunity
Visually, Supergirl is a mixed bag. The early scenes have a gritty, lived-in quality that feels unique in the superhero genre. The alien convenience stores, the interplanetary bus travel—these details add a layer of world-building that’s often missing from these films. But as the movie progresses, it leans too heavily on the same faded LED gold palette that’s become a crutch for studio technicians. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a symptom of a larger problem in Hollywood: the tendency to prioritize flashy set-pieces over substance. The film’s second half feels like a checklist of action movie tropes, from the hovercraft finale to the leather-clad villains. It’s a shame, because there’s so much potential in this story that gets lost in the spectacle.
What Does This Supergirl Say About Us?
This version of Kara Zor-El is a reflection of our times—cynical, weary, and searching for purpose. Her journey isn’t about saving the world; it’s about finding a reason to keep going. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it contrasts with the traditional superhero narrative. We’re used to heroes who are unwavering in their morality, but this Kara is messy, conflicted, and deeply human. In a way, she’s more relatable than her predecessors, but that relatability comes at a cost. The film doesn’t quite know what to do with her, and as a result, it feels like a missed opportunity. A detail that I find especially interesting is how her relationship with Superman is portrayed—she’s not just his cousin; she’s his foil, a reminder of what happens when idealism gives way to disillusionment.
Final Thoughts
Supergirl is a film that’s both ambitious and flawed, a bold reimagining that doesn’t quite stick the landing. Personally, I think it’s worth watching for Alcock’s performance alone—she brings a raw energy to the role that’s impossible to ignore. But it’s also a reminder of the challenges of adapting complex characters for the big screen. Poor Kara Zor-El deserves better, but maybe that’s the point. In a world that demands perfection from its heroes, perhaps a flawed Supergirl is exactly what we need. What this really suggests is that the superhero genre is still evolving, still capable of surprising us. And for that, I’m grateful.
