There is a moment early in Supergirl when Kara Zor-El, still adjusting to the weight of a planet she did not choose, steps into sunlight for the first time and simply floats. It is a quiet beat in a film that rarely stays quiet for long, and it captures what the DCU's origin story for its Kryptonian hero is reaching for: something grounded in feeling before it soars toward the sky.
At a Glance
Director: Craig Gillespie
Runtime: 108 minutes
Starring: Milly Alcock, Matthias Schoenaerts, Eve Ridley, Jason Isaacs, David Corenswet, Jason Momoa
Release: 2026
Critics Rating: ★★★ (3/5 stars, promising but uneven)
Audience Rating: ★★★½ (3.5/5 stars, engaging but divisive)
Plot
Kara Zor-El reaches Earth years after her cousin Superman, carrying memories of a Krypton he never knew and a long journey through the stars. The film's first act is its strongest: a portrait of displacement and identity, of someone who has survived something unsurvivable and must now build a life in a world that does not quite fit. The second act pivots into more familiar superhero mechanics as a threat emerges that only Kara can face, and the screenplay loses some of its early specificity in the process. The villain's motivations are serviceable rather than compelling, and the climactic confrontation resolves with a tidiness that the first act had seemed to resist. It is not a bad third act, but it is a more conventional one than the setup deserves.
Characters
Milly Alcock is the film's clearest asset and its most persuasive argument for its own existence. She plays Kara with a rawness that keeps the character from tipping into either invulnerability or self-pity, finding the specific register of someone who is powerful and lost at the same time. It is a performance that earns its emotional moments rather than simply announcing them. Matthias Schoenaerts brings a brooding authority to his role that the script does not always reward with sufficient complexity, and Jason Isaacs is reliably watchable in a part that asks little of him beyond presence. Eve Ridley, in a supporting role that the film treats as more significant than it ultimately proves, is given an arc that feels truncated, as though a more substantial version of her character exists in an earlier draft.
Meaning / Themes
Grief and identity are the film's twin concerns, and it handles them with more care than most entries in the genre. Kara's loss of Krypton is not treated as backstory to be dispensed with but as a wound that shapes every choice she makes. The film is also, quietly, about the burden of expectation: what it means to arrive in someone else's story, to be defined by a legacy you had no part in creating. These ideas are not always developed with the depth they warrant, but they give the film a thematic coherence that elevates it above the standard origin template. The screenplay is at its sharpest when it allows Kara's alienation to sit without resolution.
Direction
Gillespie, whose background in character-driven drama serves the film well in its more intimate scenes, is less certain in the larger set pieces. The visual grammar of the film is clean and controlled, with a colour palette that favours cool blues and greys in a way that suits the emotional register without becoming oppressive. The pacing is the film's most significant structural problem: the transition from character-driven study to action film is handled abruptly, and the final act never quite recovers the momentum the middle section loses. There is enough here to suggest that Gillespie is a strong choice for this material; the question is whether the next instalment gives him more room to work in the mode that suits him.
Craig Gillespie pitches the film closer to character study than spectacle, at least in its opening hour, and the restraint is largely welcome. The action sequences, when they arrive, are competently staged without being particularly distinctive. What lingers is not the combat but the smaller moments: Kara learning to modulate her strength, navigating human interaction with a wariness that reads as both alien and entirely recognisable. The film shines brightest when it treats its superhero premise as a metaphor for not belonging, but falters when it shifts to more conventional genre beats.
Critical reception was divided along familiar lines: those willing to meet the film on its own terms found a thoughtful, performance-led origin story; those expecting a more kinetic superhero experience found it slow and underplotted. Alcock's performance was almost universally praised and quickly became the dominant talking point, with many critics identifying her as the DCU's most compelling new presence.
Final Verdict: Supergirl is a better film than its structural problems suggest, powered by a breakout central performance that gives the DCU a hero who feels genuinely new. Alcock makes Kara's grief and displacement raw and affecting, and the film excels when it trusts that emotional core. It does not always commit fully, but what it gets right makes the journey worthwhile.