Let Superman Be Great Without the Glow-in-the-Dark Villains
What Hollywood Still Doesn’t Understand About Hope
Lately, my feed has been lit up with trailers, teasers, and breakdowns of Superman 2025. Everyone seems to have an opinion. There’s chatter about the new costume, the new Clark, the tone, the dog with a cape (more on that later), and of course—the giant villain who glows, roars, and probably bench-presses small planets for fun.
But before I even tiptoe toward critique, let me be crystal clear:
Superman is—and always has been—my number one superhero.
If you can’t fly, you’re B-list in my book.
(Batman is the exception. I mean, come on—he’s Batman. He's darkness, strategy, and justice with a cape.)
Spiderman? Interesting. Smart. Relatable. Nostalgically appealing.
But let’s not kid ourselves—still B-list. Occasionally A-minus if I’m feeling generous. Sorry, Peter.
But Superman?
Superman’s different.
He’s Not Just a Character. He’s a Compass.
He activates something deep in us—the part that wants to be noble.
He reminds us that strength isn’t measured by force, but by restraint.
That loneliness can become mission.
That doing good—even when no one sees—is still worth doing.
Superman has always been less about spectacle and more about the moral courage to rise above.
But Hollywood… Come On.
Every new Superman film seems to race toward the same pattern:
Bigger explosions.
Weirder villains.
More glowing, floating things.
And one climactic battle that looks like it was directed by a firework factory.
Listen, I love fantasy. I love soaring through the sky and hearing that unforgettable theme music swell beneath a heroic pose. I’ll take cape drama over courtroom drama any day.
But do we really need another intergalactic villain with glowing eyes and a voice like a garbage disposal?
Because here's the truth:
Evil in our world doesn’t usually announce itself in slow motion with a lightning staff.
Real Evil Doesn’t Float or Roar
It manipulates. It distracts. It lies quietly.
It convinces us that good is outdated and that truth is relative.
It rebrands sin as self-expression and makes apathy seem reasonable.
Real evil shows up on our streets, in our politics, in our screens—and sometimes, behind the cameras that help create what we consume.
And maybe—just maybe—that’s the kind of evil we should be writing stories about.
Superman Deserves Better
He doesn't need a ten-eyed villain to be powerful.
Give us Superman who wrestles with his own limits.
Who aches for the good that seems out of reach.
Who rises not just with strength—but with sorrow for what’s broken.
Let the action be breathtaking, yes.
But let the story be believable in the soul.
Let us feel something more than adrenaline. Let us feel hope.
Because that’s what Superman has always stood for.
And that’s what our world is starving for.
Final Thought
I still hum the Superman theme when I do mundane things—take out the trash, fold laundry, navigate awkward conversations. Because that music? That symbol? It means something. [I’m now considering getting a car wrap with a big “S” on the hood - really.]
It’s not just about fantasy.
It’s about a longing for truth, justice, and goodness that actually triumphs.
Superman doesn’t need a louder villain.
He just needs to remember who he is—and remind us who we are called to be.
Even here. Even now.
Even if our feet never leave the ground.
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And hey—leave a comment. Even if you disagree. I’m not shy. Let’s dig into it together.
Cape optional.
Light required.
—John Henry