The poster for Supergirl. Courtesy of Warner Bros.

It’s not often that you see superheroes hungover, especially when they have an avoidant attachment style and are impervious to alcohol around a yellow sun. For the eponymous Supergirl (Milly Alcock), however, that imperviousness is just an excuse for an extended pub crawl across different planets. Supergirl, which premiered in cinemas June 26, marketed itself as a story about the intergalactic adventures of a loveable antihero. The question is, did the picture pull off this unique vision?

The character of Supergirl briefly cameoed during the 2025 James Gunn adaptation of Superman. After Alcock stole the show as a party-loving youth, a standalone picture seemed inevitable.

The Supergirl film was announced in January 2023 as an adaptation of the critically acclaimed 2021–22 comic book miniseries Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow by Tom King and Bilquis Evely, a finalist for Best Graphic Story or Comic at the 2023 Hugo Awards.

Craig Gillespie, known for his critically acclaimed work on I, Tonya (2017) and Cruella (2021), was slated to direct. Alongside him, James Gunn joined the production in a producer role. Between the promising director, the iconic producer’s touch, and stellar source material, the film appeared destined for success.

Almost a year later, Supergirl hit the silver screen. The result is a film that’s ultimately disappointing. Many narrative promises are made to the audience throughout the film’s lean 108-minute runtime, but the creators seemingly forget about these threads and fail to return to the moments of intrigue.

The highlights of the film, by far, can be found in the stellar performances of Alcock, who appears as Supergirl, and Eve Ridley, who appears as Ruthye Marye Knoll in her feature film debut, both united by traumatic loss. The two form a buddy cop dynamic which carries the film as they travel the galaxy. Vengeance against Krem of the Yellow Hills, played by Matthias Schoenaerts: Ruthye for the death of her family, Supergirl for the poisoning of her dog, Krypto.

Despite Ruthye’s juvenile outlook and Supergirl’s jaded worldview contrasting starkly, the protagonists are united by their quest for revenge. The two embody lovable characters with a layered dynamic that works to receive immediate audience buy-in.

These characters are bolstered by Anna Sheppard and Neil Lamont’s stunning costume and set design, spearheading world-building that incites investment from the audience. Such attention to detail is perhaps best exemplified by the appearance of Krem, whose brutality manifests on a face riddled with grimy metal studs and deep, mysterious scars. This look is fitting for the ringleader of an all-male pirate race that kidnaps young women across the galaxy to perpetuate their barbaric clan known as the Brigands.

The film, in signature Gunn fashion, features heavy uses of an eclectic soundtrack: “The Girl from Ipanema” by Antônio Carlos Jobim, “Cheek to Cheek” by Ella Fitzgerald, and “Safeword” by Halsey, among other numbers. Despite careful attention to these tracks (one of which was even handpicked by Gunn himself), what effects this bold soundtrack created were unclear. This confused storytelling contrasts the narrative weight that the soundtracks carry in Gunn’s Guardians of the Galaxy films. While the juxtaposition of music emphasized the cinematic spectacle, it ultimately failed to contribute to the narrative in a meaningful way.

The contrasting, slightly confused product is only exacerbated by the technical product of the picture. One might imagine that the grounded and realistic design of the characters would be met by naturalistic cinematography and editing. However, the heavy use of CGI, particularly in the third act of the film, takes the viewer out of the immersive efforts of the costume design. This jarring effect is furthered by a splattering of smash cuts, which abruptly shifts the picture from scene to scene and calls attention to the editing—without any payoff. Indeed, the technical elements that take away from Supergirl’s performances are part of a broader pattern of the film seems to be in tension with itself.

This may be due to the sweeping decision making that’s needed for adaptation of a source text to a screenplay. Most notably, the film heavily stunts the character development of both protagonists that propelled the original narrative of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow. Rather than an arc and development, both promising characters are flattened to caricatured versions of themselves.

Because of a combination of directorial intent and writing in adaptation, the film has little breathing room, narrative space, or evidence of effort spent following the characters’ development. Screenwriter Ana Nogueira had the large task of adapting the eight-volume miniseries to the screen. Despite her strong efforts, the screenplay often stumbles.

Adaptation is no excuse for violating the golden rule. We were not shown character development, but rather told. Irrespective of Alcock and Ridley’s onscreen chemistry and charisma, the filmmakers cannot drive the character-centric tale through forced dialogue about moral growth.

Criticism aside, there is something fitting about Supergirl’s muddled production: sky-high expectations, seemingly limitless possibilities, and powerfully promising origins are hindered by psychic baggage in noncommittal avoidance. The film, intentional or accidental, is an awfully good allegory for its eponymous antihero, who does her best in a world pitted against her.