Supergirl: Is James Gunn’s Success as a Filmmaker Preventing the DCU From Finding Its Footing?

Words: James Dorman

Imagery: Courtesy of Warner Bros.

I defy you to read a single critical review, fan-centric op-ed, or industry news feature about Supergirl – a film written by Ana Nogueira and directed by Craig Gillespie – where the name James Gunn is not mentioned prominently. 

Now of course, this is hardly surprising. As co-chairman and co-CEO of DC Studios alongside Peter Safran, Gunn is the creative captain of Warner Bros’ superhero roster. He has also not been shy about positioning himself front and centre as a figurehead of the studio, talking fans through the upcoming slate of DCU movies and his overall creative roadmap for rebooting this comic book cinematic universe through its ‘Gods and Monsters’ phase.

When it comes to Supergirl specifically, though, Gunn serves as executive producer only (alongside Safran). Despite having overall signoff on the project, and any other projects coming out of DC Studios, it’s unclear precisely how much input he had into Supergirl creatively. It’s bound to have some of his creative DNA woven into it – it is a spin-off of his 2025 Superman film, after all, and any superhero movie with a space-centric leaning is probably going to copy the homework of his landmark Guardians of the Galaxy trilogy a little. But despite any such similarities or influences from Gunn’s previous work, this is not a ‘James Gunn film’. This isn’t Superman 1.5, this isn’t Guardians With Capes, it is Craig Gillespie’s Supergirl. So why does Gunn dominate the discourse so? 

And perhaps more importantly, at what point did the potential addition of Gunn’s creative sensibilities become a bad thing, particularly for a superhero movie? I remember, those many moons ago, when the news that he was contributing to the Guardians-specific writing on Avengers: Infinity War was something to be celebrated. A sign the movie was in safe hands and on the right track creatively.

So, what has changed? Why has Gunn’s potential influence on Supergirl been levied against the film as a point of criticism by some since the very first trailer dropped?

My thesis, that I wish to explore, is that Gunn is trying to occupy a niche position built on contradictions that just doesn’t gel with a lot of people’s filmic sensibilities: that of the ‘auteur executive’. Simply trying to exist in this space is creating a cloud that covers all the work he is doing at DC Studios.

In the minds of fans and, it seems, industry observers alike, Gunn has something of a dual identity. On the one hand, we have James Gunn the artist – beloved for his style and the injection of his personality he seems to give all his work. On the other, the newer identity of James Gunn the executive – an unknown quantity; a man whose creative vision people fear will overpower that of other filmmakers.

Gunn is occupying a rather unique role in his position at Warner Bros, but there is a close analogue across the road at Marvel – Kevin Feige. Both Feige and Gunn are responsible for the overall creative stewardship of their respective franchises, but Marvel movies are not thought of as Feige movies in the same way the DCU is being indelibly linked to Gunn’s influence. 

Yes, there have been criticisms that a lot of MCU outings seem to have something of a homogenous style, alongside praise for their cohesive multi-film storytelling (at least early on in the MCU…), and all this is ultimately attributed to Feige’s oversight. But if you look at reviews for Thor: Love and Thunder, say, I’d be very surprised if people were pointing to Feige for Taika Waititi’s disappointing showing.

And yet, it was Feige who had overall sight of the project and probably had just as much potential influence over Waititi as Gunn had over Gillespie. So, what is the reason for this difference in how we view the roles of these two executives, despite them – on paper, anyway – occupying virtually the same position?

I believe the difference is that Kevin Feige was never a ‘filmmaker’ in the sense we apply the term to creatives. Like Gunn, he clearly has an impressive knowledge of comic book properties, creative ideas about how best to translate these properties to the screen, and excellent instincts for storytelling (particularly big-picture storytelling), but he is firmly a producer. Regardless of whatever direct influence he may or may not have over individual MCU projects, we perhaps envision him as a creative shepherd rather than someone actively making the movies. Gunn is arguably far too established as a filmmaker for us to think of him occupying that same space.

Gunn is a celebrated and successful creative first and foremost with one of the most recognisable ‘voices’ in modern filmmaking. Perhaps on some level we find it impossible to picture someone with such a fertile creative mind and directorial energy happily sitting back and overseeing affairs, allowing other creatives to go off and tell their stories. We just assume he must be involved somewhere because he is too prominently situated in our minds as a filmmaker. 

Not only this, but he is also an outsider filmmaker who worked his way from the fringes to the mainstream – from Troma to Disney – because of his ability as a writer and director. Beyond struggling to accept that he might willingly park these abilities somewhat in his work as a producer, we probably also struggle to reconcile the walking contradiction of a man who is the quintessential movie making rulebreaker also now being the person making the rules.

There is a cognitive dissonance there that might be inherent to this idea of the ‘auteur executive’. All this begs the question, has there ever been anyone to successfully occupy that role? Off the top of my head writing this, I can think of only one – a unicorn who seems to be the exception to every rule when it comes to the intersection of business and artistry in filmmaking: George Lucas. 

Lucas has unique context as both a filmmaker and an executive. Star Wars was a creative passion project for him for sure, but he always had the aspiration of becoming an independent movie-making entity of his own outside of the studios, and he leveraged the success of Star Wars to make this a reality. He had creative faith that Star Wars would succeed if he could realise his vision as a filmmaker, and machinations as a businessman from the start to capitalise on this success to gain his independence. This is clear from the clauses he had built into his initial contract for Star Wars to retain sequel rights, merchandising rights, and overall ownership of his ideas in exchange for a lower director’s fee. 

He was an auteur filmmaker, yes, but he used his filmmaking to advance his business, and his business was advancing filmmaking; hence the creation of Lucasfilm, ILM, THX, and the like. It was a neat little circle that seemingly enabled him to successfully operate as an ‘auteur executive’ as he was the architect of his own studio – his early corporate endeavours had a sense of artistic motivation to them.

As usual, 1970s George Lucas is a law unto himself who defies conventional filmmaking logic, and so maybe not the best example for direct comparison to Gunn. For one, Gunn did not create DC Studios off his own back – he is firmly operating within an established studio system and is subject to all the baggage that brings. This means there is perhaps also another layer to the ‘auteur executive’ dichotomy – a question as to how much of a creative maverick Gunn the filmmaking executive can truly be as he churns out DCU projects for his Warner Bros bosses.

If we look to one of Lucas’ friends and contemporaries, Francis Ford Coppola, we can maybe see the exemplar of the usual narrative when a pure creative tries to take the reins on the studio business side of things. It is, put simply, disaster. Not necessarily from an artistic standpoint (though anyone who has seen One from the Heart and, of course, Megalopolis, might have strong opinions there), but certainly from a financial one. 

Coppola’s studio American Zoetrope is infamous for its legacy of repeatedly facing bankruptcy and Megalopolis all but wiped out his personal wealth, but perhaps this is the narrative many movie fans prefer and are comfortable with. The narrative that allows us to celebrate him even more as a creative, despite his failures. “Of course he flamed out, he was destined to – he’s an artist, not an executive”. 

He avoided the sellout narrative. 

Briefly hopping back to his old Zoetrope comrade Lucas, we see the counter example with the Star Wars prequels. There is a view that their very existence was driven by cynical business aspirations over any creative imperative, and that ultimately Lucas had allowed his corporate side to fully consume the creative one. 

It’s possible that, on some level, we only seem to accept creatives as retaining their artistic credibility if they fail as businesspeople. Perhaps it is no coincidence that the critical re-evaluation of the Star Wars prequels largely came about after the Disney acquisition of Lucasfilm, when George was no longer associated with the business of the franchise and there was a new corporate entity to take the flack for any creative failings.

This tendency to almost will corporate failure to preserve creative identity could tie into the somewhat parasocial relationship certain areas of the audience arguably have with James Gunn, whether it’s something that’s conscious or not. 

Fandom discourse also often seems to demand a single scapegoat (or a single saviour, depending on which way the wind is blowing), and Gunn’s profile and legacy may have positioned him as the perfect lightning rod. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Gunn was made co-head of the studio alongside Safran. The presence of a veteran, corporate-minded counterpart was perhaps an attempt to inoculate against the perception of an ‘auteur executive’ running a large (ideally, successful) commercial machine, as well it being a shrewd logistical decision for the DCU’s day-to-day operations. 

It’s also very interesting to see Safran appear to take the lead in the immediate post-release Supergirl media cycle – be it talking about Supergirl’s place in the overall DCU context, or the state of superhero movies generally with Spider-Man: Brand New Day and Avengers: Doomsday on the horizon from his co-CEO’s old stomping grounds – while Gunn remains largely silent. Perhaps this is a tactic to further distance the film and the wider DCU from the idea that Gunn is ultimately some shadowy creative architect smothering the work of other filmmakers.

There’s a lot to consider with this particular thought experiment and I could talk about it for hours. It’s possible those reading this may feel that I already have…

So, I shall start wrapping things up now, before I get even more carried away.

If there is any substance to this ‘auteur executive’ thesis and it is indeed part of the struggles Supergirl is facing, it is likely only a small part. We don’t need one more op-ed throwing the term ‘superhero fatigue’ around, but there does seem to be a change happening in overall audience appetites for tentpole film releases. But I think there is definitely also an identity crisis for the fledgling DCU, and I think Gunn’s creative legacy is a factor. 

I suppose the real test will be the upcoming Clayface. It is not a direct spinoff of the Gunn-helmed Superman, the production stems from a filmmaker-driven pitch rather than coming from Gunn’s top-down creative roadmap, and everything we’ve seen of the film so far suggests it has a clear creative vision entirely its own. It will be interesting to see how much the spectre of James Gunn hangs over the media discourse when it’s Clayface’s turn to hit cinemas.

But for Supergirl, whether you think it is good, bad, or indifferent (critical reception and box office figures would say the film is indifferent-to-bad; audience reaction would say it is indifferent-to-good), it seems that it cannot even succeed or fail entirely on its own merits. It exists under the very large creative shadow of one of its executive producers. And the narrative around Supergirl perhaps encapsulates an existential problem for the DCU as a whole under James Gunn’s ‘auteur executive’ stewardship.