From the day the first trailer for Supergirl released, it should’ve been clear that comic fans were in for disappointment. The visual dissonance from the film’s source material—Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow by Tom King with illustrations by Bilquis Evely—was quite clear in a not-good way. How one could look at that book’s art, with its kaleidoscope explosion of colors so beautiful it brings tears to your eyes, and instead choose the aesthetic of the Christopher Walken beer commercial is beyond my understanding.
That’s a bit mean, I know. But after you’ve seen something look the way that Project Hail Mary did, it’s even harder not to be frustrated with why such an approach couldn’t have even been somewhat attempted here.
Aesthetics aside, the dichotomy between the book and film adaptation is even more frustrating. There are plenty of Marvel flicks—or, really, blockbusters in general these days—that look like wet cement. But they still have plenty of attributes that can at least partially atone for it. And while there’s plenty of narrative issues with the film, there is none that is quite as perplexing as the ending. Supergirl (played admirably by Milly Alcock, for what it’s worth) triumphantly stabs the villain, Krem of the Yellow Hills, through the chest with a big ole sword.
I’m not saying this decision to change in the movie is bad because of some teletubby, cumbaya, and corporate-incentivized idea that “Superheroes Should Never Kill.” There are plenty of characters, particularly men, that have done their fair share of murderous ventures with tremendous popularity and acclaim. Nor am I doing a bad faith reading that killing means “we’re no better than the bad guys,” as it strips context from a given situation in order to appear morally superior.
My issue is that in execution, Supergirl killing Krem was mistaking edginess for boldness. Some fault is due to how she’s portrayed as a jaded, curmudgeon alcoholic in contrast with the more worn down, quietly heartbroken heroine in the graphic novel. It’s as if the filmmakers only read the first chapter in Woman of Tomorrow in which she gets absolutely plastered for her 21st birthday. They seemed to take that and make it 80% of her character rather than a simple, humorous subversive opening premise. She’s frustrated with the universe, but not an unimpeachable liaison of judgement, which feels appropriate for someone of near godlike abilities and a culture that went kablooey.
She’s here to guide us, which is why the book saw her lying about Krypto’s health when she was actually there to watch over Ruthye, the young secondary protagonist, as she goes on her dangerous path of vengeance. Instead, Supergirl speedruns all the character-building necessary for the killing of Krem to feel more earned. Therefore, the decision comes off incredibly cheap rather than a profound contribution to a debate on moral ethics.
It’s glaring in comparison to something like X-Men 97, in which Rogue attempts to kill Bolivar Trask, the creator of the Sentinel machines that just committed a genocide on the mutant nation of Genosha. You actually feel her anger there, because the mutants tried to play ball. They did everything by the rules. They trusted that society could slowly get better—that people could get better.
Even this movie’s predecessor Superman has an underlying theme of initial compassion that turns into a kill after the genocidal Boravian dictator doesn’t heeds Superman’s warning. Of course, he’s later smashed onto the ground thanks to Hawk Girl. The killing wasn’t necessarily approved, but it certainly wasn’t condemned, given the context, either.
And that’s the route that Supergirl could’ve taken if it actually wanted to do something interesting. In the final panels in Woman of Tomorrow, a now-elderly Ruthye meets again with Krem. His life is spared after, in a twist, Ruthye’s pleading with Supergirl to not do so. And this is after being confined to the Phantom Zone for at least 300 years. There was something about these panels, the shadowy silhouettes, the rising sun in the background, that gave me a sense of ambiguity.
Ruthye bonks Krem in the head, but you can still see a bit of movement from him afterward, implying he was still alive. But my initial reaction is what I think could’ve been done here. These questions behind the morality of killing are complicated, so why not channel the spirit of the comic’s beautiful final shot? Why not actually do something we truly haven’t seen from one of these comic book movies before? But instead, we got what we got.
Now, I worry about what kind of quandary this sets up for the character going forward. After she’s killed in such an unambiguous way, what’s to stop her in future movies from doing the same or the potential hypocrisy for evil that she does choose to spare?
It’s why I envision, and at this point have established as my own headcanon, that Supergirl ended with Ruthye hitting Krem from a far enough view that his fate is left up to the audience. You can’t quite praise it, but you certainly can’t condemn it. It’s about wearing heartbreak with humility—and a refrain from judging our peers—of not knowing the answer.