There’s something weirdly specific going on in the Superman trailers. Teaser. Minecraft preview. Official trailer. All of them—without exception—feature Clark Kent getting absolutely brutalized. I don’t mean one or two punches. I mean bloodied, tossed, stomped, stabbed, thrown, and generally treated like Metropolis’ most durable crash test dummy. If trailers are supposed to sell you on why this Superman matters, the message here seems to be: come watch this man get wrecked for two hours straight.
The first trailer opens with that snowy beatdown. Superman, blood on his face, staring up from the ground like he just realized he forgot to wear thermal underwear. It’s a striking shot. So striking, in fact, they used it again to open the five-minute extended preview in front of Minecraft. That’s right—your kid’s favorite pixelated sandbox game now comes with a side of Passion of the Kryptonian.
Then comes the official trailer, and the punches keep flying. Ultraman’s throwing hands. The Engineer gets a few in. There’s a giant kaiju stomping through buildings. And what’s Clark doing? Mostly taking hits. Sure, we get a glimpse of him flying and hugging Lois in the rain, but more than anything else, he’s bleeding. A lot. It’s starting to feel like if you’ve seen one Superman trailer, you’ve seen them all—and he’s always on the floor.
Meanwhile, the marketing keeps telling us to look up. Posters. Taglines. Dramatic narration. Look up. But at this point, I can’t help but wonder if that’s because they don’t want us looking down—because down is where Superman spends most of his time in these trailers. Laid out. Wounded. Waiting for the next hit. That’s not inspiration. That’s damage control.
This isn’t just some nitpick. It’s a deliberate tone, a marketing through-line. Gunn’s Superman is less about invincibility and more about vulnerability. James Gunn has been up front about his version of Clark Kent being built around kindness and empathy—less “god among men,” more “decent guy trying to do the right thing while getting punched in the face.” That’s a noble idea. But trailers are first impressions, and right now this one screams pity party with capes.
Look, I love the idea of a Superman who feels human. One who leads with his heart instead of his fists. But there’s a fine line between relatable and walked-on, and right now the marketing is dangerously close to turning Superman into a punching bag with a cape. He gets hit more in these trailers than a Mortal Kombat character on Very Hard mode. Even Spider-Man gets a breather once in a while.
What’s even wilder is how this stacks up next to Zack Snyder’s take. Say what you want about Snyder’s Superman—and people have—but at least his Clark looked like he could snap the Earth in half if he sneezed wrong. He was a god wrestling with the weight of power and the fear of alienation. Snyder leaned into the mythic. Gunn leans into the metaphorical. Snyder’s Superman stood above humanity and questioned whether he belonged. Gunn’s is knee-deep in it, getting kicked in the ribs, hoping to find common ground.
It’s not a bad approach. In fact, it’s arguably overdue. For years, Superman has struggled to connect with modern audiences. He’s either too powerful to be interesting or too outdated to be cool. Gunn is trying to fix that by anchoring the character in emotional realism. He’s less about Truth, Justice, and the American Way, and more about Therapy, Trauma, and Trying His Best.
But even if the final movie nails that tone, the trailers aren’t doing him any favors. When your big selling point is that your superhero spends half the runtime looking concussed, it’s not exactly the triumphant return fans were hoping for. Audiences want to believe in Superman again. To see the symbol and feel inspired. Right now, they’re getting a beat-up farm boy who looks like he needs a nap and a tetanus shot.
There’s probably a great story here. Maybe Gunn pulls off the emotional arc. Maybe the final film shows us why this Superman matters beyond the punches. But if your movie is about a guy who can fly, save lives, and light up the sky like a beacon of hope—and your trailers only show him getting absolutely bodied—then you’re underselling the character. Worse, you’re underselling the myth.
Superman doesn’t need to be flawless. He doesn’t need to be worshipped. But he does need to stand tall. Not just because he can take a hit, but because he can inspire others to rise. That’s what makes him super. Not the strength, not the cape, not the alien DNA—but the belief that no matter how dark it gets, he’s the one who keeps going.
Hopefully, the movie gives us that Superman. Because right now? All we’ve got is the guy curled up in the snow—again.
Hollywood After Dark 