This is an extended look at the same scene we saw a glimpse of in the earlier teaser—Superman motionless in the snow, softly whistling for help as the camera pans out to reveal that help is, in fact, a very good boy named Krypto. But this new extended version gives us the full moment. And it’s something else.
Krypto doesn’t charge in like a heroic CGI sidekick. No, he does what real dogs do when they see their favorite human sprawled out on the ground: he gets excited. He jumps on Clark. He nudges him. He bites him (lovingly, but still). Superman’s clearly in pain, but Krypto just wants to play. It’s absurd. It’s adorable. It’s weirdly moving. In other words - It's vary James Gunn.
Eventually, Clark convinces him to take him to the Fortress of Solitude—because yes, even Superman needs a support system. And once there, we’re introduced to a couple of robotic assistants who help nurse him back to health. And those robots? They have personalities. Not just AI exposition bots like in man of steel. They banter. They tease. They care. Yes, Even the household tech has more personality than half the DCEU roster to date.
But let’s back up. Why is this the first scene James Gunn wants us to see?
Why not a heroic pose? A chest puffed out. A cape billowing in the wind. A city saved. A villain smashed. Why is our first proper taste of the new Superman not triumph—but weakness?
And the answer, I think, is what gives me so much hope for this movie: vulnerability.
See, for over a decade, DC’s main aesthetic has been “look how powerful our heroes are.” Zack Snyder, especially, loved painting them as mythic figures—godlike beings floating above us in dramatic slow motion. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that approach, but it creates distance. You don’t cheer for a god. You stare at it. You admire it, Maybe you fear it. But you don’t connect with it.
James Gunn gets that. He knows the fastest way into an audience’s heart is not through awe—but through empathy.
Marvel figured this out early on. That’s why Tony Stark wasn’t introduced as Iron Man flying through the sky. He was a sarcastic, arrogant, immature playboy who got blown up in a Humvee and had to build his way out of a cave. He almost lost his heart and had to build himself a new one. Vulnerability is what makes characters matter. It’s what makes us care.
So yes, I’m thrilled that we’re seeing a Superman who can bleed—not because I want to see him suffer, but because I want to see him overcome something real. Not a CG beam in the sky (God, please don't let there be another sky-beam). Not another horde of aliens/robots, I want to see him struggle. I want to see him doubt. I want to see him earn it.
This scene doesn’t just make Clark feel relatable—it gives him dimension. And not just him—Krypto feels like a real dog (chaotic, loving, unhelpful), and the robots are more than just sci-fi dressing. Everyone’s a character. Everyone has a distinct tone. This already feels more lived-in than anything we got from the Snyderverse, where everyone looked like they were stuck in a perfume commercial, slowly turning toward the camera with furrowed brows.
Gunn’s Superman isn’t an untouchable symbol. He’s a person. A person with a dog. And robots. And a magical fortress that sprouts out of the snow. But more importantly - Actual emotional stakes.
And maybe, just maybe, This will be a movie worth caring about.
