Emily Articulated: Superman

By Emily Erickson
Reader Columnist

This weekend, I found myself in line at the Sandpoint Cinemas, joining a surprisingly full (for Sandpoint) crowd eager to see the new Superman movie. James Gunn’s take on the iconic DC hero opened to $122 million — an impressive number, making it the third-best debut of 2025. While that might seem relatively pallid in comparison to recent Marvel performances (Avengers: Endgame opened at $357 million), the film more than held its own. And for me, at least, it did something more important than breaking records: it resonated.

I’ve never particularly considered myself a “Superman fan,” being pulled more toward stories about the darker, complex heroes; flawed characters who flirt with an anti-hero identity. But there was something very satisfying — dare I say “cathartic” — about watching this version.

Part of that might lie in Superman’s origin story. First appearing in Action Comics No. 1 in June 1938, Superman was created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. The story follows Kal-El, sent to Earth as a baby from the dying planet Krypton, who grows up as Clark Kent and develops extraordinary powers under Earth’s yellow sun. He ultimately chooses to use those powers to protect humanity while living a double life as a mild-mannered reporter.

Superman was born against a backdrop of real-world turmoil — the Great Depression, the Hindenburg disaster, the disappearance of Amelia Earhart and rising tensions that would lead to World War II. In that context, he wasn’t just a man in tights, he was a cultural salve. A symbol of strength, justice and hope. During WWII, he became an emblem of American ideals, often depicted fighting the Axis powers and representing a kind of moral clarity that comforted a shaken public.

Superman has evolved since then. Originally a nearly unstoppable force, he’s been reimagined with vulnerabilities — not just physical, but emotional and ethical. His upbringing by Martha and Jonathan Kent has taken on more importance in recent adaptations, adding complexity to his identity as both alien and human.

Gunn’s Superman continues that trajectory. He’s powerful, but no longer godlike. His strength now comes as much from his internal struggle as from his Kryptonian origins. And that makes him more interesting (and, perhaps, more relatable).

In a recent interview on Armchair Expert, Gunn explained his reasoning for framing Superman in this way: an all-powerful hero wasn’t compelling to him, especially in a story he feels was more about identity.

“[Superman] is strong, but he’s not as strong as he was,” Gunn said. “Most people, when they say, ‘they like Batman more than Superman,’ it’s because Superman is just too powerful. There’s no stakes … But a lot of Superman fans like the fact that he can beat up God.”

Gunn wanted stakes, vulnerability and for other heroes to matter. Most of all, he wanted Clark Kent’s choices — his compassion, his decency — to be what defined him. As Jonathan Clark says in the film: “Your choices, your actions — that’s what makes you who you are.”

The movie, on its face, was relatively simple. It checked all the boxes of a classic superhero movie: fight scenes, love scenes and battles for the fate of the planet. Though it did expand on Superman’s inner life, it wasn’t too dark or overly complicated. Instead, it celebrated goodness. It pulled at the threads of what makes us human, insisting that compassion — and the conscious choice to do the right thing — is what defines a character (or perhaps, more broadly, character).

That idea — that strength isn’t just in power, but in restraint and kindness — feels especially timely. At a time crowded with real-world antiheroes and morally gray storylines, there’s something radical about simply choosing to be good. And continuing to do so, time and again.

I didn’t expect to be moved by Superman, nor did I expect to walk out of the theater thinking about identity, kindness and what defines a hero. But here we are.

The film didn’t need to be the biggest box office success to feel like a win. It reminded me — and was meant to maybe remind all of us — why this character keeps coming back. In moments of global uncertainty or personal weariness, Superman remains a symbol not of invulnerability, but of the strength it takes to fight with, and for, compassion.

Emily Erickson is a writer and business owner with an affinity for black coffee and playing in the mountains. Connect with her online at www.bigbluehat.studio.