At that age, Superman was everything for me. I didn't care about Spider-Man or Batman or Star Wars or any of those things -- though I did grow to appreciate them later. Superman was all there was. I had a pair of Superman pajamas that I wore every night, and it was a pretty regular occurrence that I would "fly" (read: run around the house with my arms outstreched) around the house for at least an hour after my bedtime every night, too. I watched the first three movies (yeah, even the third one) so often that my parents and my brother would beg me to watch something -- anything -- else. I tried to put an S-curl in my hair. I jumped off of things I should never have jumped off of in any number of attempts to learn how to fly. I read a Superman origin story comic that came out of an old record until it completely fell apart. If there was anything in the world I wanted to be, it was Superman.

Of course, it wasn't long before I realized that I would never be Superman, and I wasn't that much older before I soured on the character. After all, how much can you do with a guy who's invulnerable? I moved on to admire heroes that actually represented some attainable traits of humanity (Batman), and later to relate to the heroes who didn't always win, and who tended to have real-life sorts of problems (Spider-Man).

Since my pre-teens I've always considered Spider-Man to be my favorite superhero, because as much as I longed to be Superman, of course I ended up being Peter Parker -- a skinny, nerdy kid with glasses and girl problems, whose desire to do the right thing usually ended up coming back to bite him in the ass. Superman was too powerful, too messianic, too invulnerable. The overhyped "Death of Superman" story was the exception that proved the rule; that the man could be vulnerable at all was the comics event of the decade. It was around that time that I decided I preferred to read about someone like me -- not a god, but a man, and preferably, an extra-falliable one.

Still, the Superman fixation of my early youth left an impact, even though I probably would have never admitted that it was the root of it. Supes was most assuredly the impetus of my wanting to become a reporter (what I do when I'm not writing for this thing), not because of the mythos' great reverence for the press (an aspect which I do love), but because, while it is most assuredly impossible for me to actually be something great, I still hold on to the belief that if I sit through enough state senate hearings and cover enough state fairs, at the very least, I can bear witness to greatness.

That idea, which I had relegated to the back of my mind, behind all my cynicism and general bitterness toward the world, came rushing back to the front of my brain as the opening titles rolled up on the screen earlier this evening. As I saw those names zoom past me, in exactly the style of the previous films, I was suddenly a little boy again, and it felt...amazing.

A complaint I've seen in the little bit I've read about this movie (I purposely avoided reviews and such leading up to it) is that it holds too true to the Richard Donner originals. And indeed, there are a number of similarities -- the credits, for one, the music, the cinematic style. Hell, the last shot is the exact same shot that ended -- to my memory -- every one of the other Superman films, and Brandon Routh's performance as both Clark and Superman is some kind of supernatural channeling of Christopher Reeve (which is to say it is excellent). But for me, the similarities are the movie's greatest strength. From the first frame, the movie pulled me in, and somehow, led me to accept a straightforward, heroic story with no smirking or winking irony whatsoever. (And that stuff's usually what I go for.)

There were occasions where the cynicism in me came out ("How can Lois and her guy afford that house on newspaper salaries?" "Wouldn't the rocket just incinerate the plane entirely?"), and there were parts where the film buff in me emerged ("This scene is dragging a little," "Oooh, that's a cool shot,") but for about 2 hours of its running time, I was simply engrossed.

The entire cast, even Kate Bosworth, impressed. Kevin Spacey's Lex Luthor is sort of campily funny and threatening at the same time, and I really liked Parker Posey as the new Ned Beatty. Frank Langella's Perry White actually seemed like a real newspaper editor. Hey, even Jimmy Olsen wasn't annoying. Surprisingly, neither was the kid.

And the movie itself is beautiful. Bryan Singer's direction, along with the special effects make this one of the more impressive spectacle movies of the past several years. The big action setpieces -- the one with the plane at the end of the first act, especially -- are sights to behold.

The only other movie I can think of that I voluntarily sat through the closing credits for was the first Spider-Man film, to which my reaction was very much one of simple comic-book-geek giddiness, a response that certainly was not entirely mature (it consisted of just saying "Man!" for an hour), but it denoted a certain maturity, one that gets some kind of ironic meta-joy out of a superhero film.

When I left Superman Returns, I had a different reaction. One of at first unspeakable, pure happiness, and then a sort of melancholy. I basically didn't have to go far past the outside hallway to remember that I am not four years old anymore, and that I live in a world of disappointments and annoyances and grief -- all that stuff that made me so cynical to begin with.

Perhaps that's why, in the film, Superman has several moments of what seems to be a deep sadness. Not only is he an outsider, but after all, he is only one person, no matter how godlike. And no matter how hard he tries, he can't save the world by himself. The only real, sweeping thing he can do is bring it some hope. And, come to think of it, maybe that's something of greatness that I actually can aspire to. A.

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Bonus Review!: Songs About Superman

REM, "SUPERMAN" - This is one of those songs that sound really cool for about 30 seconds, but has the propensity to really grate on you after much longer. Michael Stipe's harmonizing with himself with the "I am"s is catchy as hell, but that's kind of a blessing and a curse. Get this thing stuck in your head for too long and you're ready to shiv somebody. B.

FIVE FOR FIGHTING, "SUPERMAN (IT'S NOT EASY)" - Never in my life have I heard a song as boring as this one. The teenage me who used to say he didn't like Superman would probably say it's pretty appropriate to the character, but that me was an idiot. Superman doesn't whine like a pussy and put people to sleep. D-.

THE KINKS, "(I WISH I COULD FLY LIKE) SUPERMAN" - A decent little straightforward rock song of the "got up, got out of bed" variety. Nothing spectacular, but I wouldn't change the radio station if it came on. C+.

GOLDFINGER, "SUPERMAN" - One of the better ska songs, in my book. Too bad I don't care that much for ska. C.

THREE DOORS DOWN, "KRYPTONITE" - Hands down, the worst song about Superman ever written. I seriously have no idea how it got to be as popular as it did, considering that the lyrics, especially the ones in the chorus, seem to only be there because they rhyme with one another. Yes, "might" and "Kryptonite" rhyme, but that doesn't mean they should go together, particularly when it doesn't make any fucking sense. F.

THE FLAMING LIPS, "WAITIN' FOR A SUPERMAN" - Easily the best song about Superman ever written. It even tells a nice (though somewhat depressing) story about how people can't rely on superheroes to save them -- they have to save themselves. And just try not to sing the chorus to yourself after you hear it. Go on, try it. See? You couldn't do it. A.

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Bonus Bonus Review!: One-Sentence Reviews of the Trailers Before Superman Returns

PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN 2: It looks like there'll be swashbuckling, which is enough for me.

THE ANT BULLY: Looks awful.

LADY IN THE WATER: Also looks awful, but in a glorious, I-have-to-see-it sort of way.

THE DESCENT: All I can tell about it is that it looks gooey and there's a hot British girl.

THE NIGHT LISTENER: Silly-looking, and has a bad title.

ACCEPTED: Surprisingly not horrible-looking (I mean, it has Lewis Black), but probably will be horrible anyway.

SPIDER-MAN 3: Maybe it's the third-movie curse, but It looked humorless and...I hate to say it...kinda not great.

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