Summer Screen & Stream, Weekend 8: SUPERMAN & THUNDERBOLTS*

Wherein Letterburched likely offends and/or alienates half the population of America & digital dog lovers around the globe

In an effort to keep this newsletter timely, I aim to cover 1 new theatrical release (seen on the Big Screen) and 1 new streaming release (watched at home on PVOD or SVOD) every weekend from Memorial Day to Labor Day. That’s 15 weekends, 30 films in total, a whole lotta trips to the Alamo, and very few, if any, to an actual beach. Dual reviews will drop sometime Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, depending on my real-life workload, but definitely before each weekend is over (reminder: I am not a paid critic with early access to pre-release screenings or streaming links). That’s the Letterburched Summer Screen & Stream guarantee!

This weekend, I dip a very tentative toe into the mega-franchise rivalry I’ve dreaded discussing (and care very little about) ever since starting this newsletter. It’s the MCU vs. the new (and improved?) DCU, with a double header of James Gunn’s Superman on the big screen and the Marvel Machine’s most recent spandex soap opera new to streaming, Thunderbolts*. But before I begin…

A NOTE TO LB NEWBIES: I’m generally not a fan of the superhero genre. I’ve never been into comic books and have skipped out on many MCU and DCEU entries in the last decade. Unlike so many others, my “superhero fatigue” kicked in far earlier than “Phase Five.” More like 15 years ago, probably around the time of Iron Man 2. So if you’re looking for someone to explore the minutiae of each character’s superpowers, or attempt some sort of desperate political take on what are, to me, basically apolitical children’s movies made for mass audiences, then sorry, but I’m not your guy, and I do apologize. I’d recommend heading on over to Twitter/X or Doof Social if you’re looking to mix it up with some breathless SnyderCut incels or brain-dead SuperTrump memes. Or maybe BlueSky if you’re seeking links to 50,000-word treatises about how the immigrant Son of Jor-El relates to recent real-life ICE raids. Actually, you probably don’t even need to exit Substack for that. I’m sure there are countless superhero-specific newsletters, far right or far left, that have you covered wherever you lie on the political spectrum. Me, I’ve got no dog in the MCU/DCU fight. Or the “Is Superman a Republican or a Democrat?” squabble. And even if I did, I can guarantee you that dog would be far better behaved than this latest Superman’s not-so-good good boy Krypto.

Now that I’ve gotten that MAJOR DISCLAIMER out of the way, let’s get these dual/dueling reviews over with as quickly as superhumanly possible, shall we? I’d much rather be writing about obscure crime movies or horror films from the ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s that only five people in the world (including me) care to see.

Superman (2025)

Directed by James Gunn. Runtime: 129 minutes. Watched: On the big screen, at the Alamo Drafthouse

The Gist: Spit-curled Man of Steel (David Corenswet) battles bald Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult) and some very bad press in an attempt to save the world from various kaiju, Ultramen, and “pocket universes” with the help of intrepid reporter Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan), Mister Terrific, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl, and probably five or six other super side characters I’m forgetting about.

The Good: Can we just skip directly to the inevitable Mister Terrific (Edi Gathegi) spinoff film? Better yet, the Supergirl (Milly Alcock) as drunken party slut movie that’s apparently already finished filming? Or maybe a rom-com further exploring the secret tit-for-tat selfie relationship between Jimmy Olsen (Skyler Gisondo) and Eve Teschmacher (Sara Sampaio)? Because those are the only characters, actors, and storylines I really responded to during this latest Super retread. The new man in blue and red with a yellow “S” on his chest? Meh. The new Lois Lane? Double meh. Nicholas Hoult as Lex Luthor? Let’s just say that the skeleton of Gene Hackman is currently smiling widely in his grave, humming a few bars of MC Hammer’s “U Can’t Touch This” as we speak.

The Bad: Oof (or should I say “Woof”?), that fucking CGI dog! I mean, how hard would it have been to cast a real canine? They’re the most easily trained of all the movie animals, and you could do a basic SFX assist for all the things a real-life dog couldn’t physically do (flying, etc.) the same way you do with all your human thesps in these movies. Sorry, but I have to deduct one full letter grade just for that. Don’t get me wrong, folks, I loooove dogs. *Real* dogs. After all, I’ve stayed in several failing relationships months or years longer than I should’ve simply for the sake of The Dog. And I love dog humor in movies when it’s well done and not just pandering for easy laughs. But Krypto seemed like this movie’s lesser version of Guardians’ Groot. Yes, the little kids in the audience will absolutely eat him up with a spoon. But many of the adults in the crowd I saw this with only emitted a few forced chuckles whenever he showed up (all too often). Grumpy old me couldn’t even be bothered to give Krypto that much love. And I’ll tell you another thing, Mr. Gunn, if you think I’m cleaning his digital scat off the sidewalk, you goddamn crazy!

Speaking of digital scat, I’ve never seen a Superman more obsessed with his social media following and public image than this one. The first half of the film is front-loaded with that junk, and I don’t think the Kal-El of my youth (Christopher Reeve, the one and only) would’ve lost too much sleep at night over #SuperShit, or whatever negative publicity tweet Corenswet’s character is fretting about so much to Lois Lane in the early interview scenes. Is the man an Instagram influencer or an immigrant from another planet sent here to do good? Does he care more about his “like and subscribe” or saving human lives? I dunno. Seemed like a toss-up for this particularly sensitive 21st century Son of Jor-El.

By the way, I purposely avoided re-watching the classic Richard Donner flicks before seeing this movie because I thought it would be unfair to Gunn, to have that comparison so fresh in my mind. I wanted to go into it with the most childlike set of eyes possible and pretend the immortal words “Kneel Before Zod” never existed. No such luck, unfortunately. I was constantly reminded throughout how much more I prefer the ‘70s and ‘80s originals (even the Richard Pryor one). And when John Cena inevitably showed up for a Peacemaker cameo, I thought, “You know what, I’d rather be at home watching Season 2 of that right now on the newly rebranded HBO Max.”

When it comes to the Gunn filmography thus far, I’d say I’m a moderate enthusiast. I dug his pre-Marvel duo of Slither and Super, generally lost interest during his Guardians phase, then kinda got back onboard with his The Suicide Squad redo and the aforementioned Peacemaker series. But now that he’s taken on the mantle of Official Warner Bros. Superhero CEO, I worry he may become more businessman than artist. Nothing wrong with that, if that’s the direction you want your career to take, but if so, maybe slow your roll with the whole Iggy Pop “I’m a punk rocker / Yes, I am” thing, James? After all, how “punk” can you really be when David Zaslav is the guy eagerly signing your multimillion-dollar New DCU paycheck?

The Not-So-Ugly: Since I just shotGunn’ed James a tiny bit there, let me rein in the pessimism a smidge and give the man a well-deserved compliment. Apart from Our Esteemed Mr. Nolan, I still think Gunn visually renders all this superhero crap onscreen much better than most modern cape-and-codpiece directors, particularly more so than his predecessor Zack Snyder or any number of more malleable young Marvel in-house directors. Gunn has a knack for innovative creature design, bright colors that pop off the screen, and a clarity of image not present in most CGI slop these days. I can usually discern a distinct separation between foreground characters and their backgrounds in his films. This might not sound like much, but trust me, it makes a big difference to a nearsighted eye worn down by years and years of greyish digital movie sludge. His shot compositions do have a tendency to get a bit too busy and chaotic for my tastes at times, and I’m not always so impressed with his frequently showy “oners,” as they’re largely achieved against a green screen and then smoothed over in countless computers long after the day’s shooting is over. It’s not like Hitchcock or Welles had those same tools at their easy disposal with Rope or Touch of Evil. But I do have to respect the extra effort Gunn takes to innovate and entertain in our depressing “just let the AI do it” modern SFX age.

Letter Grade: C

Thunderbolts* (2025)

Directed by Jake Schreier. Runtime: 127 minutes. Watched: At home on VOD* (but the kind that’s for free)

The Gist: An unlikely team of mercenaries-turned-superheroes is formed when their CIA handler (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) sends them on a death mission to tie up loose ends, yet they miraculously survive. Now it’s up to mourning Russian assassin Yelena (Florence Pugh), the Winter Soldier (Sebastian Stan), John Walker (Wyatt Russell), Taskmaster (Olga Kurylenko), “Bob”/Sentry (Lewis Pullman), and Yelena’s gregarious father Alexei (David Harbour) to save the day and fill the do-gooder void left over from the vanished original Avengers.

The Good: Okay, so we’re doing clinically depressed superheroes now? Superheroes with self-esteem issues? Superheroes who mostly possess no superpowers, except when they work together as a single unit, both to defeat their own inner demons and the ghouls threatening the larger universe? Great! Hold on…didn’t we already do that waaaay back in 1999 with Ben Stiller in Mystery Men? Sure, okay, I guess that one leaned more towards superhero spoof, and Thunderbolts* does treat its characters’ flashback-nested therapy sessions a little more seriously. Bully to you, Marvel Brass, for taking a concept more than one quarter century old, tweaking it ever so slightly, and calling it a “course correction,” I guess.

If not that, then kudos for re-hiring Florence Pugh at the very least. She has the uncanny knack for elevating any movie she’s in, even if the script provided is largely not worthy of her acting abilities. Same goes for Julia Louis-D, who strikes a nice relaxed balance between phoning it in and slyly undercutting the material with her bone-dry delivery as the casually villainous Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. I never watched the series Veep, but I’m guessing her character here is pretty similar to that one? Also, David Harbour’s Red Guardian is fun in small doses (just don’t give him his own movie, whatever you do). As for Bill Pullman’s kid? Boy, is young Lewis Pullman making nepotism work OVERTIME for him or what! Seems like he’s in every other new movie I watch these days. I guess I can see why—he’s a pretty versatile young chap. And when he turns completely black as “The Void” in this, with nothing showing but the whites of his eyes, I did get an appropriately creepy feeling.

The Bad: If this movie is a true “end of Phase Five course correction” for the MCU, then why do I find myself having many of the same qualms with Thunderbolts* that I’ve had with the last 10 or so MCU movies? Here, I’ll list just a few of them for you…

1) Still yammering on and on about “The Avengers, The Avengers, The Avengers…” Not only that, but now we’re asterisking* them in the titles of the movies. Didn’t that big purple dude snap his fingers and make half of The Avengers and the world disappear, like, seven years and twelve films ago in Avengers: Endgame? If so, why are we still name-checking them constantly and singing their praises like recently deceased relatives at an Irish wake?

2) Still having to the hubris to assume audiences have seen all the MCU movies and related TV shows to get the many throwaway references and in-jokes without bothering to explain. Why does Sebastian Stan’s character have a metal arm that he cleans in a dishwasher? I have no fucking clue! Guess I had to watch the last Captain America movie. Or worse, the entire Falcon and Winter Soldier Disney+ TV series.

3) Still with the self-satisfied snark and tiresome superhero in-fighting. Will all of this forced *attitude* never cease?

4) Still grinding up young directors who once showed early promise into purveyors of bland, mass-produced baby food for the multiplexes. Occasionally, an old auteur like Sam Raimi might slip through the cracks, but after the Marvel Sausage Factory had its way with him, even his movie came out smelling like a rancid Oscar Meyer multiverse weenie.

5) Still with those exhausting mid-credits and post-credits scenes, a truly abhorrent trend that Marvel Studios is solely responsible for kickstarting. But then I guess the MCU Devoted need their quick hit of interconnected cinematic universe crack to keep coming back for more and more punishment. I no longer bother to stay through the credits when seeing these two-hour-plus spandex sagas in theaters (rarely). Case in point: I missed the Superman post-credits scene this time, didn’t even know there was one until I read about it afterwards. The only reason I saw the not-one-but-two end credit scenes in Thunderbolts* is because I was watching at home and lost the remote for a spell. Unlucky me!

The Ugly: Yeah, sorry. “Course correction” or not, this movie still mostly looked like hi-def dogshit shot on Georgia soundstages, despite having a budget that could easily bring Roger Deakins out of semi-retirement 30 times over to shoot high atop of Mt. Everest. I will give Thunderbolts* this much though, it looked a little better than the last Ant-Man movie. Faint praise, I know. But, hey, I’m tryin’ here, Brian P!

Letter Grade: C* (see below for further asterisk explanation)

Bonus MCU/DCU Question: How is it that Wendell Pierce is allowed to have walk-on roles in both competing mega-franchises? (as Perry White in the new Superman and as Congressman Gary in Thunderbolts*). Doesn’t this violate MCU vs. New DCU protocol? Or does Pierce get a pass because everyone (including myself) loves Bunk from The Wire just that much? Whatever the answer, you go, Wendell! Get that superhero $$$ two times!! We all know the only “S” that matters when it comes to these movies is the one with two lines down the middle and at least six zeroes soon after.

Li’l Letterburched, age 4 or 5. Proof that I once drank the Son of Jor-El Kool-Aid.

*In true Marvel Studios bait-and-switch post-credits teaser fashion, I refuse to fully reveal whether the asterisk behind my Thunderbolts* letter grade is a placeholder for a + or a – until the next MCU movie arrives. But then what are the chances of me seeing The Fantastic Four: First Steps in the theater at the end of July? To quote Johnny Rotten at the finale of the very last Sex Pistols show: “Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated? Goodnight.” Mic drop.