Man of Steel hasn't quite successfully answered that question, but for a movie that's as utterly watchable as it frustrating, one that for every satisfying moment or performance or tiny nook to cling to fails to satisfy as a whole, it does try in earnest to alter the cinematic impression of it's iconic character, now celebrating his seventy-fifth year of preserving truth, justice and the American way. With Christopher Nolan serving as maestro after his unqualified success at rebuilding Batman from the flamboyant throes of self-parody, and with a screenplay by David S. Goyer, the intention is that Man of Steel will, of course, rear Superman out of the dusty cob-webs of his past and flesh out the character and the broader universe that contains him-- you know, and show up all those Marvel guys and their billion dollar success stories.
The result is frantic, over-bloated and sadly, under-nourished. That pressure culminates in a lot of movie, one of excess and such over-the-top massive-ness, that the ingredient that's forgotten is the fun, the thrilling lure and unabashed glee of popcorn entertainment exciting the senses and taking flight. Instead it's more of a connect-the-dots action film where point A leads to nothing more than grandly executed bits of explosive point B nonsense. It's all a bit of a shame, for the smaller moments (what few there are to begin with) of Man of Steel are capably performed that given just a bit more time to properly jell or the tiniest hint of subtlety, this Superman may have been given a chance to soar emotionally just as does through the air so adroitly. Instead the film is distinctly mechanical, a bit cold, and ironically, while trying to distill more of a sense of a real world to surround the man and superman reverts itself into something all the more shallow and cartoonish by forgetting the most valuable thing any film needs: a beating heart.
