BRIGHTBURN. What If Superman Snapped? [REVIEW]

In 2019, Avengers: Endgame brought over a decade of Marvel superhero dominance to a crescendo, scooping up nearly all the money in the world and breathing down Avatar’s neck in the race to be the highest-grossing film in history. The success of the shared-universe formula meant that spandex-clad heroes began springing up from nearly every studio like mushrooms after rain. Amid this flood arrived something a bit quieter: Brightburn – a film that shied away from the hope-glowing world of Marvel-esque heroism to deliver a twisted take on Superman’s origin story.

Because what if young “Clark Kent,” overwhelmed by adolescence, had a wire or two short-circuit in his head? Initially billed as a James Gunn project—another genre spin from the director of the fantastic Super—the film held promise.

That earlier Gunn project saw a doughy, midlife-crisis-stricken man don a mask to dish out vigilante justice with tragic results. In Brightburn, a frustrated, lost alien child was set to be unleashed from society’s leash. But with Gunn bogged down by other commitments, he ended up only as a producer, handing the reins over to a close-knit team: director David Yarovesky (a longtime friend and music video director) and writers Mark and Brian Gunn (his brother and cousin). The film’s premise is certainly intriguing.

A Kansas farm, a childless couple, a crashed spaceship. A baby inside. It’s a familiar tale. But here, something’s off. Where DC’s Clark Kent has always been a wholesome kid with a heart of gold—raised by loving adoptive parents to become Earth’s greatest protector—Brightburn’s Brandon Breyer steadily loses his grip. He’s overwhelmed: by teenage angst, by his sense of being different, by peer rejection, and ultimately, by cryptic cosmic voices calling him toward a darker destiny. That’s where the meaty potential of the project lies—a warped Superman origin story.

Sadly, Gunn’s absence at the creative helm is noticeable. While Brandon’s descent is paced decently, and his transformation is built up with skill, the film never digs deeper than its central “What if Superman went bad?” question. Clocking in at a lean runtime, Brightburn sacrifices psychological depth for a quick leap into spectacle. There’s little exploration of Brandon’s inner turmoil or dawning awareness of his powers. One moment he’s confused; the next, mask on, horror unleashed. It feels rushed—like the filmmakers were too eager to get to the explosive finale. The idea had fertile ground, but the film opts to water it down with tropes, leaving us with strong but underused actors (Elizabeth Banks and David Denman as the parents—Denman especially shines in moments of desperation) and dialogue that often limps through scenes.

You sense a longing for Gunn’s sharper, more irreverent storytelling voice. That said, Brightburn does deliver on horror thrills. Despite a micro-budget, Yarovesky’s music-video background shines in the film’s stylish visuals. The design of masked Brandon is unsettling, and the scenes showcasing his powers are often cleverly crafted. One standout moment—featured in the trailer—takes place in a typical American diner. A gruesome eye injury is shown through a bloody, distorted lens from the victim’s POV, echoing Bunuel’s surreal horror.

There are small flourishes of narrative inventiveness and a good dose of gore to underscore the boy’s destructive streak, including some gnarly body-mangling moments. The film also leans on familiar horror tricks—jump scares and eerie atmospherics—but with the added tension of a child being the harbinger of doom. Brightburn: Son of Darkness could’ve been a brilliant subversion of the now-stale superhero genre, but ultimately, the execution doesn’t match the premise. Events unfold more out of obligation than character logic, and there’s no real pause to explore what’s going on inside the boy’s head (Jackson A. Dunn gives a solid, stoic performance). A more subtle, two-act buildup might’ve served the story better.

Still, it works well as a Friday-night scare—a film more suited for Netflix than the cinema. You’ll wince at the gore, maybe jump a few times, then crash into bed and forget it by morning. Just that—and maybe that’s enough. It’s a shame, though. The film ends on a high note, with a finale and post-credits sequence that finally ask some provocative questions—just as the credits roll. A little too late.