"You'll believe a man can fly"
That was the unforgettable slogan that sold Richard Donner's Superman back in 1978, a film that didn't just change the game, but invented it. Now, in 2025, James Gunn has decided that believing in flight is old news. Forget flying. This time, he wants you to believe that Superman is punk rock.
Yeah, you read that right. The ultimate boy scout of pop culture, the hero who shines his boots before punshing bad guys, is apparently going through a rebellious phase. But is it a leather-jacket, sneer-at-authority kind of punk? Or is it more of a Hot Topic "my mom doesn't get me" kind of punk? Gunn seems determined to convice us it's the former.
The idea is clear: this isn't just another Superman reboot; it's a manifesto. Gunn wants to give us something familiar enough not to trigger fan meltdowns, but fresh enough to make TikTok explode. His weapon of choice? Punk rock
But here's the big question: can Superman, the most squeaky-clean superhero ever written, actually pull off being punk? Or is this like watching your dad buy a skateboard at 45 and insisting he's still got it? (This is my future, by the way) Let's dig in.
Superman meets punk rock: Yes, this actually happens
Superman doesn't waste time with another origin story. Right from the opening minutes, Clark is already famous, already tasted defeat, and yes, already locking lips with Lois Lane, who's fully in on his "reporter by day, godlike alien by night" rounine.
And then comes the scene that was by far one of my favorites in the film. Maybe because I cracked up laughing at the naturalness of such profound dialogue, set against the literal backdrop of an interdimensional goblin attack.
Or perhaps for the Lois and Clark interation, is a quiet moment, talking about the punk bands they grew up with. Lois, naturally, calls him out:
"My point is that I question everything and everyone... And you trust everyone and think everyone you've ever met is like...beautiful"
Clark just smirks and fires
"Maybe that's the real punk rock"
At first glance, it's just banter. Cute, playful, the kind of thing screenwriters sprinkle in so you don't check your phone. But Gunn insists this exchange is one of his favorite moments in the film. And like I said. I agree. Because' it's not just a joke it's the movie central thesis
Why Gunn thinks Superman is punk? (And why he might be onto something)
Here's the thing: James Gunn isn't just a filmmaker; he's a music nerd of the highest order. This is the guy who carefully curated Guardians of the Galaxy's soundtracks into cultural phenomena. He's played in indie bands, written songs, and carried a DIY rock ethos into Hollywood blockbusters.
So when he frames Superman through punk? He means it. The proof is in the details: the final credits roll over Punkrocker by Teddybears, featuring none other than Iggy Pop himself, the godfather of punk, basically blessing Clark Kent as an honorary punk rocker.
But let's pause. Superman and punk? Oil and water, right? One is the personification of order, the other thrives on chaos. Superman is about saving kittens from trees; punk is about burning the tree down and spray-painting anarchy symbols on the ashes. The math doesn't add up.
Unless, of course, you rethink what punk actually means
What does "being punk" even mean in 2025?
Back in the 1970s, punk wasn't just a music genre it was a Molotov cocktail thrown at social norms. It was DIY clothing, three chords played badly (on purpose), and a middle finger aimed at conformity. But decades later, punk has splintered into subgenres and been chewed up by the pop industry.
So now? Ask five people what punk means, and you'll get 10 answers. Is it political activism? Fashion? Anti-corporate rebellion? Being broke but angry? Even TikTok conservatives have tried to call themselves "punk" by blasting American Idiot while worshipping billionaires, proving irony really is dead.
Still, at its core, punk has always been about rebelion, non-conformity, and channeling anger into action. Which, funny enough, is exactly where Gunn finds his angle with Superman
Superman the outcast, Superman the rebel
For all his shiny idealism, Superman has always been a misfit. He's literally an alien. He doesn't quite belong. Humanity admires him, but also fears him. He wants to fit in, but deep down he knows he never truly will. That's textbook punk outsider energy
And Gunn leans into this:
- Empathy as rebellion: In a cynical world, Superman's radical kindness feels almost subversive. He'll save not just people, but the dog, the squirrel, even the giant monster trying to crush Metropolis.
- Righteous anger: Superman might be kind, but even his patience snaps when confronted with Lex Luthor's blood-soaked schemes. And when Superman rages, it's not pretty. It's righteous fury.
- Alienation: Like punks who felt out of step with mainstream society, Clark carries the weight of never fully belonging. His compassion is born from that pain.
It's not "punk" in the Mohawk and spikes sense, but it's punk in spirit. Which leads us to...
Hopepunk: When kindness becomes rebellion
Here's where things get interesting. In 2017, author Alexandra Rowland coined the term Hopepunk a literary response to grimdark fantasy. Where grimdark says "the world is cruel, deal with it," hopepunk argues that kindness, softness, and hope are acts of rebellion in a cynical age.
Sound familiar? That's exaclty Gunn's Superman. He's not the cynical, brooding, Zack Snyder demigod. He's earnest, vulnerable, and almost embarrassingly sincere. And that, Gunn argues, is punk.
The limits of punk in a $200 milion blockbuster
Now, before we crown Gunn the patron saint of DIY rebelion, let's remember: this is still a Warner Bros. tentpole film. For all its punk posturing, it's polished, CGI-heavy, and corporate approved. Let's be honest: no matter how many Iggy Pop songs you slap on the credits, a multimillion-dollar franchise film will never be truly punk.
And that tension shows. For example, the movie's central geopolitical conflict involves two fictional nations, one militarized and backed but the U.S., the other a victim of invasion. Sounds a lot like Israel-Palestine, right? Gunn denies it's intentional, claiming he rewrote the script to avoid real-world parallels. Which, sure, makes sense, when your studio is allergic to controversy.
So yes, Gunn's Superman flirts with punk ideas, but corporate Hollywood keeps him on a tight leash. It's like that meme: "Wants to be hardcore, but mom won't let him"
Pop punk, corporate punk, or something else?
Even beyound politics, Gunn's Superman isn't exaclty smashing artistic conventions. The movie still looks like every other superhero blockbuster: glossy visuals, polished color grading, big VFX battles. There's no DIY grift, no raw aggression, no aesthetic rebellion. It's punk in theory, pop in execution.
And maybe that's okay. Because for all its limitations, the film still dares to be hopeful, empathetic, and politically pointed in an era when most blockbusters are about as edgy as a marshmallow.
So... Is Superman really punk?
Here's the verdict:
- Is he punk in the traditional sense? Not really.
- Is he pop punk? Probably closer.
- Is he hopepunk? Absolutely.
What matters isn't the label, it's the effect. Gunn's Superman isn't the grim, self-serious figure Snyder gave us. He's not trying to be "adult" by being joyless. Instead, he's sincere, empathetic, and unashamed of being hopeful.
In other words: Gunn's Superman might not convince you he's punk rock in the same way Donner once convinced us a man could fly. But he does remind us that kindness, in a cynical world, can stiill feel radical. And maybe the rebellion we need right now.
James Gunn's Superman may not be the cure to superhero fatigue, but it's a shot of adrenaline in a tired genre. It's familiar yet fresh, hopeful yet self-aware, rebellious in small but meaningful ways.
So if there is a message in this film that I want to remember and hope we all can remember. Is that even in 2025, there’s power in empathy, and yes even be kindness could be the new punk rock.