Have been struggling for a catchy way to start this article, so instead, I’m just going to come right out and say it: I’ve had a change of heart when it comes to Superman.
When it comes to comics, I don’t read much Superman unless he happens to show up in a book I’m already reading. That’s because I tend to prefer more grounded heroes — the ones without superpowers, who rely on their brains, brawn, and tech to outsmart their enemies.
Like many others my age — I’m 55, part of the often-forgotten Gen X generation — I went to see Superman: The Movie back in 1978. I was 8 years old, and I truly believed a man could fly. Watching Superman perform incredible feats of strength was exactly what 8-year-old me needed. But as I grew up, I found myself drawn to darker, edgier heroes and even the occasional antihero. By the time I hit my teens and twenties, I’d largely dismissed Superman as corny, overpowered, and no longer relevant — at least through the lens of my worldview back then.
How Batman (and Nolan) Cemented My Bias
Then came Batman Begins in 2005. Like everyone else, I was blown away by Christopher Nolan’s more grounded, realistic take on the Dark Knight. After watching Batman crash and burn with Batman & Robin in 1997, it was a relief to see a version that resonated more with the character from the comics. Early comic versions of Batman from the late ’30s and early ’40s even had him using a gun. While Nolan didn’t go quite that far, he embraced Batman’s more ruthless edge and showed us the moral boundaries Bruce Wayne refused to cross. In The Dark Knight, that contrast between Batman and the Joker — the moral restraint of one versus the chaotic, limitless cruelty of the other — gave us one of the truest depictions of what Batman might look like in our world.
Nolan’s trilogy arguably paved the way for Zack Snyder’s darker, more brooding take on Superman in Man of Steel. For someone like me, who grew up watching Christopher Reeve’s idealistic Superman, Man of Steel felt like the anti-Superman. Snyder presented a version shaped by a world still reeling from 9/11 — suspicious, cynical, and fearful. His Superman was stripped of the comforting optimism that defined the character for decades. The moment Superman breaks General Zod’s neck felt like a betrayal of that moral clarity. And for me, it was the point where I emotionally checked out. I never truly reconnected with Superman after that.
Reframing Superman Through Older Eyes
All of that started to change when I saw the early teaser for James Gunn’s new Superman film. And the more I’ve seen from the film’s marketing, the more I’ve found myself looking at Superman again — but this time through the eyes of my older, more reflective self.
When I was a kid, Superman was all about the flight, the powers, and how cool he looked. Sure, there was an element of inner goodness there — even then — but I didn’t fully grasp the bigger picture.
Time and experience have changed that for me.
At the heart of it, Superman is an alien immigrant who ends up in the United States, raised by a couple from Kansas who instill in him the values of human kindness, sacrifice, and doing the right thing — even when that “right thing” isn’t easy, popular, or clean.
And the part of Superman that feels most relevant to me now? It’s not the Kryptonian god flying through the skies — it’s Clark Kent: the soft-spoken, awkward Kansas farm boy who wants to be kind, to be a good friend, and to live with integrity. That version of the character — the one who quietly strives to do good — resonates with me more now than he ever did when I was young.
Power Is Cool. But Compassion Is Cooler
Granted, I still enjoy the Kryptonian elements of Superman’s character. His powers are cool, no question. But it’s the more grounded side of Superman that resonates most with me now — and the best writers always seem to tap into that aspect of him.
One story that really illustrates this is Peace on Earth by Paul Dini and Alex Ross. In it, Superman tries to solve the problem of world hunger — and despite all his incredible powers, he fails. Not because of a supervillain or an alien invasion, but because of the flaws in human nature — greed, fear, and short-sightedness. The more he tries to help, the more heartbreaking the story becomes.
Early in the book, there’s a quiet moment with Clark and his father on the Kent farm. Jonathan Kent is planting seeds for the next harvest, and he tells Clark to be mindful of how he plants them — that not every seed will live, but each one deserves a chance. It’s a gentle, profound metaphor, and it helps frame a big part of Superman’s moral compass.
Because let’s be honest — Superman could rule the Earth if he wanted to. He has the power to impose his will with ease. But he chooses not to. Instead, he chooses to inspire, to live by example, to encourage humanity to be its best self. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s right.
Back in the ’70s, Christopher Reeve — who to my mind is still the best actor to play the role — summed it up perfectly in an interview:
“What makes Superman a hero is not that he has power, but that he has the wisdom and the maturity to use the power wisely.”
That ties back beautifully to the seed metaphor. Superman — or Clark Kent — believes in giving people second chances. Everyone makes mistakes. Some learn. Some don’t. But in his eyes, everyone deserves the opportunity to try again.
Reeve echoed that too when he said:
“I believe in second chances. I believe in redemption. But mostly, I believe in my friends.”
The Day Superman Saved a Life Without Powers
Another story that beautifully illustrates Superman’s more human side is Grounded by J. Michael Straczynski and Chris Roberson. In this arc, Superman decides to walk across America in order to reconnect with ordinary people — not as a god, but as a man trying to understand the world he protects. The story unfolds through a series of smaller, intimate encounters, each revealing something new about the character. But one moment in particular stands out.
Superman comes across a young woman standing on the ledge of a building, preparing to take her own life. As he approaches, she stops him with a single request: don’t use your powers to stop me. And Superman agrees. He doesn’t fly up and grab her. He doesn’t lecture. Instead, he simply stands with her and talks — listens, really. He opens a dialogue and meets her where she is, emotionally, not just physically.
It’s a quiet, powerful scene. And in many ways, it’s more heroic than any battle against a supervillain. Because in that moment, Superman isn’t saving the world — he’s trying to save one person by showing up with empathy, patience, and compassion.
When speaking with the young woman about her intent to take her own life, Superman approaches the situation with care, compassion, and deep empathy. He doesn’t approve of her choice — but he does take the time to understand her pain. At one point in their conversation, he says:
“I understood. I didn’t approve, still don’t. But I understood.”
An Excerpt from J. Michael Straczynski and Chris Roberson’s exploration of Superman’s Humanity in “Grounded”.
In the end, after a long and heartfelt conversation, Superman manages to convince the young woman not to take her own life. He doesn’t do it with superpowers or grand speeches — he does it by helping her reframe her pain. He shares examples of others who’ve faced darkness and found a way forward, gently guiding her toward a perspective that allows for hope.
Why Superman Still Matters
To sum up: For me, Superman represents human potential. Despite being an alien, he’s made the choice to be a friend to humanity — to be a friend, full stop. He embodies the best traits we aspire to: determination, grit, strength, empathy, courage — and, above all, the ability to choose.
We all have that same choice. We can choose to be our best or our worst selves. We don’t have to be negative and cynical. We can choose kindness. We can choose to meet each other where we are, rather than constantly comparing, competing, or judging. Because ultimately, we reap what we sow.
And Superman chooses to sow friendship, hope, and inspiration.
He’s not just a symbol of strength. He’s a figure of hope — a reflection of the best of us. All we have to do is get out of our own way… and be willing to see it.
Perfect words. ❤️