Michael Fairbanks
“There was a time above… a time before… there were perfect things… diamond absolutes. But things fall… things on earth. And what falls… is fallen.”
America believed in heroes in the early 2010s. It was a time of mass optimism fueled by a cordial political climate. The Marvel Cinematic Universe had become the apex of pop culture following the release of Joss Whedon’s first Avengers film. Its serialized story capitalized on both the rising popularity of superheroes and the shared sense of hope and dovetailed into a cinematic religion. You could have a water cooler conversation with almost anyone about what they thought Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, or Natasha Romanoff would get up to in their next adventure. This wasn’t because your co-workers or fellow students suddenly took up an interest in comic books overnight. It was because these archetypes, almost all of whom were employed by a military organization, were genuinely aspirational. A “reformed” billionaire weapons manufacturer turned superhero was universally adored because of Robert Downey Jr’s quips and the Iron Man armor’s spectacular on-screen tricks. A Captain America who was a soulful and emotionally intelligent man? Of course!
During this period, mainstream film had largely become a homogenized medium that discouraged risk. The Disney blockbuster empire of Marvel and Star Wars had completely sunk its claws into the zeitgeist. Of 2015’s top ten highest-grossing domestic releases, Ridley Scott’s The Martian is the only one that stands out as adult fare. Every studio was frothing at the mouth to get their own inoffensive PG-13 cinematic universe going, including Warner Brothers with their DC characters. At least, that was the plan. When Zack Snyder delivered his bombastic and somber Superman origin story Man of Steel in 2013, it elicited genuine controversy. Fans were perturbed by Snyder’s morose, offbeat take on Clark Kent even before he carelessly allowed Metropolis to be plowed into dust during his fatality-ridden battle with General Zod. The allure of a challenger to the Marvel Universe boosted Man of Steel’s box office, and there was a widely felt sentiment that Snyder would have to rein himself in if he hoped to successfully introduce the Justice League.
And thus, we land in 2016…
Donald Trump’s incendiary, racism-laden entry into the Presidential race in 2015 stoked a sense of unease that many had hoped to leave in the George W. Bush years. As he started picking up primary victories in early 2016, that unease turned into dread and, most importantly, denial. Surely calmer heads would prevail, and we’d ultimately choose to elect Hillary Clinton or Bernie Sanders and keep the Disney years rolling, right?
Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice sees the forest for the trees. Zack Snyder entirely rejects the notion that self-appointed saviors would be bound to any social contracts whatsoever. That includes the preordained traits that comic book fans demand be consistent in each adaptation of these iconic characters:
- Batman doesn’t kill.
- Superman is kind and optimistic.
- Lex Luthor is an established middle-aged tyrant primed for Presidential status.
Using this framework, Snyder crafted an unwieldy but wildly ambitious film that sent shockwaves through a culture clinging to comfort. It spawned a divisive reaction similar in scope to George Lucas’ Star Wars prequel trilogy. The majority slammed it as a bleak desecration of beloved characters that ruined a long-awaited crossover. A growing minority became obsessed with Snyder’s indomitable hyper-masculine energy, claiming that he had permanently rewritten the rules of blockbuster cinema.
I fall somewhere in the middle. Despite its many flaws, I’ve always felt a foundational fondness for Zack Snyder’s subversive approach to this material in what is easily the best of his Justice League trilogy. I had built my entire late high school personality around hating Man of Steel. By the time the film had arrived here, I was rounding the halfway point of college. I was studying screenwriting, publishing movie reviews, and sharpening my ability to evaluate more challenging films. I was also becoming more comfortable with actively and vocally disagreeing with my peers, and once I realized that liking Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice created a bit of tension, I’d only defend it more. Even so, it was more of a novelty than a movie I carried through my life with any passion. In fact, my revisit this week was only my third completed viewing of the film in total.
In 2026, I was struck by how much the Metropolis and Gotham City of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice feels like the world I am currently living in. While some of humanity has deified Superman, most people are riddled with paranoia about what he’s capable of destroying next. Each move he makes is perceived as a political act, further inflaming these tensions. Zack Snyder patiently unfurls the inner workings of this world over the course of his three-hour Ultimate Cut. Much of it is spent in investigative thriller mode, as Bruce Wayne and Lois Lane methodically uncover the secrets of billionaire Lex Luthor’s plan to frame Superman as an unambiguous threat to the world. While our familiarity with these characters kills some of the suspense, we’re still expected to pay attention and sink into this crumbling world. This brings us to our three central characterizations…
Bruce Wayne
Undoubtedly, the character who most naturally fits Snyder’s bleak sensibility. He acts as the avatar for the audience members who were outraged by what a poor hero Clark was in Man of Steel. We meet him as he frantically speeds through Metropolis during that fateful battle, desperately trying and failing to save his office employees who are trapped inside a skyscraper. We watch him sprint towards the collapsing building as everybody else runs away, eventually comforting a small girl whose mother was trapped inside. As he glares at the careless aliens in the sky who inflicted such mass turmoil, his rage becomes our rage. This Superman is a threat to everything we love, and he must be destroyed.
Ben Affleck’s performance is magnificent. Since these films have come and gone, he has spoken about how miserable he was playing this role later in the run. Here, he is fired up from the artistic resurgence he was experiencing in the wake of his growing directing career, which had just netted him a Best Picture Academy Award win for Argo. It’s a perfect balance of smarmy charm and despair. When he has to move through the world as Bruce Wayne, we see him as the hyper-charismatic white-collar boy toy you’d meet at a swanky party or country club. However, the moment he steps into that Batcave and starts going back and forth with Alfred, we feel the weight of his decades of crime-fighting. We get the sense that even Gotham’s more grounded threats have worn him down and taken people he’s cared about from him. He’s unconcerned with how badly he hurts criminals, even opting to kill them on some occasions. His fraying mental state is only fueled by horrific dreams of a fascistic future where Superman reigns as judge, jury, and executioner for a decimated world. The only hope he has for rediscovering his soul is potentially being the person who can stop this from coming to pass.
Lex Luthor
You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in 2016 who was pleased with Jesse Eisenberg’s Zuckerberg-ian take on Lex Luthor. Now, Snyder’s Luthor is the type of mousey technocrat who we’re now all too familiar with. He’s the type of man who intimidates, not through demeanor and presence, but through what he is capable of doing to the world because he feels small and powerless. Sure, Eisenberg chews the scenery perhaps a little too much during Luthor’s most manic moments. However, I’d argue no more than Gene Hackman or Kevin Spacey did in their turns. It’s just a different type of bravado. One that hard-nosed senator June Finch (Oscar winner Holly Hunter) doesn’t buy into until a moment before an explosion he triggers obliterates her. Perpetually underestimated and twice as sadistic and radical because of it. It is, in my view, the strongest reinvention of a character that Snyder created during his time at DC. It is a shame that we never saw his arc realized to its fullest (and baldest) potential.
Clark Kent
Unfortunately, this is where Zack Snyder’s vision has always faltered. There was certainly potential for a more conflicted Superman to be a compelling character. The appetite for that spin was certainly there, with widespread sentiment about Superman calling him boring and goody two-shoes in the lead-up to Man of Steel. Unfortunately, the ethos of this all-powerful figure, crumbling under crushing moral obligation to stay good, is derailed by Henry Cavill’s abysmal performance. He may be practically carved in stone to resemble Superman
Cavill is an effective blunt instrument when utilized correctly. Guy Ritchie perfectly integrated his stiffness into the ironic characterization of Napoleon Solo in his masterful spy comedy The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Meanwhile, Zack Snyder sees him as a legitimate dramatic presence, and Cavill whiffs every major beat he’s given. The primary moment I always point to is an early scene where Clark attempts to comfort Lois Lane as she sits in the bathtub, distraught about nearly dying on a dangerous assignment that forced Clark to intervene. After she vents, Cavill delivers the line “the woman I love could’ve been blown up or shot” with the flat cadence of a game show host reading an answer that the contestant didn’t get right. There is absolutely no sign of sincere chemistry or connection between him and Amy Adams’ Lois. They’re in love because Snyder insists that they are, yet there’s not a moment of warmth. They’re stoic work colleagues who are also sleeping together, which makes Lois’ ultimate impalement in the climax feel largely meaningless.
Synder’s focus leans heavily towards Bruce’s more relatable perspective. When the two of them square off in the director’s Dark Knight Returns-inspired climactic set piece, we enter the fray on Bruce’s side as he turns on the bat signal. Clark tries to make peace because, at this point, he understands that Luthor is trying to turn them against one another. Bruce doesn’t listen and uses his wits and Kryptonite gadgets to dominate Superman in their battle. He wins so overwhelmingly that the only thing that stops him from driving a stake into Superman’s heart is Clark’s plea to “save Martha.” Martha is also Bruce’s mother’s name, triggering a nearly blinding rage that derails him until Lois explains the situation. This moment is widely regarded as an all-time low in the superhero genre, but I’ve always seen it as a high point. It may somewhat cheaply weaponize comic lore. That said, it also grounds the deep connection that Bruce suddenly decides to share with Clark in something profoundly human.
There’s no doubt that Snyder’s ambitions exceeded his grasp in Batman V Superman. The story buckles whenever it shifts from political thriller into a more generic, bombastic Justice League setup film. Despite an uncharacteristically charismatic turn from Gal Gadot as Diana, she never meaningfully factors into the plot. She’s there to schmooze with Bruce and talk about the thumb drive that gives us short tastes of Ezra Miller’s Flash, Ray Fisher’s Cyborg, and Jason Momoa’s Aquaman. Forcing Diana to have an epic introduction as Wonder Woman also extends the film’s already lengthy fight against the monster Doomsday, unleashed by Lex, who is fooling around with Kryptonian tech long past its expiration. If this were more streamlined, Bruce and Clark could’ve had more time to build a richer bond after their fight, which would make Clark’s Christ-like sacrifice during this brawl a bit more impactful. As it stands, it feels like the dead weight of the saga is being lifted, which is frankly felt in Justice League when the ensemble’s chemistry works just fine without Cavill.
Ten years later, I celebrate Zack Snyder’s sheer force of will. He took the Warner Brothers machine for a ride as he crafted this somber, slow-moving death march that is entirely geared towards an adult audience. He didn’t find the success that Christopher Nolan did with his grounded Batman trilogy, but his larger-than-life execution of these powerful figures still impresses. It is certainly more visually ambitious than almost any movie in the genre that followed. While Snyder’s toxic fandom may always limit him from receiving the credit he deserves, there is no doubt that his vision of the DC Universe resembles 2026 far more than James Gunn’s canny, throwback approach. I may not want to restore the Snyderverse, but I do respect it.
