Supergirl: A Review Best Read Drunk
Very occasionally I drink red wine. Very occasionally, when this happens, I want to drink some more. So now and then, when I'm too pissed to use the app, I get Alexa to sort it.
“Alright Alexa, two Beef Monster Munch and a bottle of your finest red. And by finest I mean it costs less than a fiver and has a screw top. Oh, and 20 Silk Cut too. I'll stick a fiver in your pocket when you get here."
It was under these circumstances that I watched Supergirl.
I was already unhappy with Superman. You can't have him getting his arse kicked tout suite. It completely undermines him. I left Superman feeling we'd gone from Henry Cavill to Harry Cuntface.
Not Corenswet's fault. It's the writing. I was left feeling Corensdry all in all.
So, has James Gunn dropped the ball, or am I just a pisshead?
Well, definitely both, I would say.
I've read Save the Cat, and we all know putting an animal in peril early doors is a cheap way to elicit sympathy. And at the end, who gives a fuck if the dog eats chocolate? The mofo is Kryptonian. It could probably eat a nuclear warhead. The cat in Captain Marvel probably could too — another film that was more soundtrack than storytelling.
And what the fuck was going on with Aquaman?
Are we supposed to forget about that?
The bulk of the rest of the mess is dealt with in the Pitch Meeting, and far better than I could ever do, so watch that below.
Shame really, because Gunn's history proves he can absolutely do this stuff brilliantly when he wants to. Supergirl just isn't it.
Lanterns is supposedly good, but doubt I'll be arsed to watch it at this rate. Burp!
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