I would give three hundred thousand coconuts and every ounce of Brandon Routh's blood to get the two hours and thirty-four minutes that Superman Returns took from me. The movie ends four or five times.
I don't even know where to begin: the uneven tone, the formless narrative, the unfunny camp, the bad hair styles, the insouciant sepia tone, the smarmy melodrama? Bleh!
John Ottman kept the score in appropriate territory and managed to add a little bit of sense to the drama, but there is only so much that music can do. What a trooper.
Given the improbable physics, some of the special effects are realistically detailed. The ripples cascading down the skin of the 777 as Superman decelerates it were arguably realistic.
On the literary resonance side, Superman has been conflated with his original messianic role, an overt Appollonian syndrome and all too literal Jesus references. Lex Luthor introduces Superman as a god, so this is consistent.
Look up Larry Niven's essay on Superman's girlfriends for further insight into the problems this screenplay introduces. Me, I am going to stop thinking about this movie right now.
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