“What would Superman drive?” My good people at Dodge think the answer to that is a Ram Power Wagon; and if you peep the promotional Man of Steel one-off that they put together for the summer’s latest superhero flick, you might say they nailed it. More on that later, but there’s the short explanation on how I – Mass Appeal’s auto critic – ended up elbow-rubbing at the film’s New York City World Premiere.
To lay my cards on the table, I’ve never been a fan of Krypton’s prodigal son. The red briefs, the Kryptonite and hokey villains, the undying question of, “how do people not know who this fool is?” – it was all too much for a young G. Not even Teri Hatcher in her prime was able lure me into the franchise. Could Christopher Nolan as co-writer/producer and Director Zack Snyder change all that? I had speckles of hope, but they were double-dipped in a blackened, cynical doubt.
Man, was I wrong. No spoiler alerts here (not that you could really have any with a story that’s been retold on almost Biblical levels), but for those of y’all heading out on June 14th, be ready for what’s always been downplayed about Clark Kent/Kal-El; the superhero struggle. Again, though nothing is new about the material, young Clark’s torments and demons are thrust to the forefront of the film. There’s the bullying; the X-Ray vision that doesn’t make peers look like Playmates, but instead as if they escaped the Bodies Exhibit; and, of course, the constant dilemma of restraint – which truly tests the hero at the movie’s end.
But just when you think you bought tickets to some introspective, Matrix-ey mind bender, Man of Steel concludes with a super-sized, half-hour helping of what any good blockbuster needs; a lot of sh** blowing up. As Metropolis is demolished and Earth faces global reconfiguring, Superman and the infamous General Zod – who you may actually begin to feel bad for towards film’s end – duke it out MMA style; this, after our hero has also beat an armor-clad behemoth, and one of the baddest femme fatales in years, into submission.
In summary, I’d give this latest Man of Steel one-and-a-half thumbs up; I’d say two, but one-and-a-half is all I got, dawgs. And that’s even after having to stomach Amy Adams as Lois Lane – ugh, go back to boning ducks! Can we maybe get Jessica Alba, or Biel or even Oprah in the sequel? The good news for you less secure types is that the red “Hey fella, look down here!” under-over-pants are gone, but be warned; Henry Cavill’s gargantuan pectorals may leave you feeling a bit inadequate in other areas. If your date’s mind is elsewhere later on, you can’t really blame her.
Back to the truck, all respect is due to the designers and Marissa Hunter, of Dodge Ram Brand Advertising, for perfectly embodying this new Superman swagger in vehicular form. From the bold badging, to the forged and blackened aluminum wheels, to the mesh seat inserts that echo the Man of Steel’s dope new threads, this one off had the potential to be complete cheese – like some recent DC comical whips – but is in fact, straight cheddar. Now off to travel the country, it will also conclude its time in the spotlight in true superhero fashion, by being auctioned off for charity. You catching this, Shaq?