Why Superman Had to Die
by pulpklatura
When Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice was first released, it wasn’t just film critics that were crying for a foul and pestilent murder. The criers were also comprised of self-professed fans of the characters involved in the film. In particular, some Superman fans – perhaps still suffering a hangover from their experience with Man of Steel – were vocal about their virulent dislike of the adaptation of the Death of Superman arc. A quick trawl of forums or microblogging sites quickly yields sentiments like “[the production team] had no business adapting that arc!” or “[the production team] did not deserve to adopt that arc”, though perhaps articulated in the rather less specific manner, i.e. “[production team] did not earn [the Death of Superman]”. This meta will address and rebut that particular criticism (henceforth the “Did Not Earn It” school of thought).
Before we launch into our discussion it is prudent to discern what is it exactly we are dealing with. This meta does not address the obviously nonsensical assertion that a protagonist can never die in the film about him; (proponents of this view are to educate themselves by watching Braveheart, Gladiator, and the more I list the more stupid I feel that I even have to address this so in the interests of due diligence I’m just going to dump this link here for anyone who does indeed hold this view; have fun kids, learn something).
In light of the extensive list containing copious examples where heroes have died in their solo outings, as can be seen in the link in the previous parenthesis, I will also refrain from dealing with the equally idiotic assertion that a hero must have a litany of films establishing him to the audience before the stakes can be raised and his plot armour removed (sometimes known in our academic circle as “The Marvel Method”, as it will henceforth be referred to in this piece). For the sake of clarity and at the risk of belabouring my point, the above two variants of the “Did Not Earn It” school are not worth discussing in detail, for they expressly flout years and years of cinematic and narrative history in general (thus both variants have no historical imperative whatsoever) and moreover, proffer a restriction on the creative process to be ossified dogma without first establishing why that restriction should be ossified dogma in spite of its recent inception.
In which Henry Cavill channels the inner feelings of every DCEU fan that has had to explain why the Marvel Method shouldn’t apply to the DCEU
Instead, this meta deals with the notion that BvS did not earn its adaptation of the Death of Superman arc, because it was a poor creative choice and poorly executed. There are clearly two claims here that we will need to address in full, which I have grouped under four headings: (1) Death of the Hero: a genre convention; (2) Fearful (Narrative) Symmetry; (3) Journey of the Hero; and (4) Pathos.
1. Death of the Hero: a genre convention
As I have expressed in my previous meta on this film, BvS can be classified as an updated Shakespearean revenge tragedy because of its narrative structure. At the risk of committing a tautology, the fact that BvS is revenge tragedy means that we must be aware of the way it adheres to the conventions of the genre, which includes the death of the hero. It is, in fact, common for the hero and a whole lot of other people to die in the Completion (Part V) of a revenge tragedy (see: Hamlet, obviously, but also Titus Andronicus).
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In revenge tragedy, only be surprised when “Blood! Blood! Blood! And death.” doesn’t happen (image source)
Failure to adhere to this convention is the exception rather than the norm (to quote Quentin Tarantino, violence is good cinema!). As such, when a protagonist, particularly a titular one, fails to die in Completion it raises the question about whether they were a protagonist to begin with (see: The Duchess of Malfi because the duchess dies before Act V).
Conventions exist for a reason (I will address this from a possible standpoint in a following section of this meta) and when one is presented with a work, the burden of proof is squarely on the people who deride the deviation rather than the people who enjoy the adherence – unless the discussion is about the existence of the convention in the genre as a whole, of course, in which case then the burden of proof is equal on both sides. In short, don’t like death at the end of a revenge tragedy? Take it up with the Tudor and Jacobean playwrights or even go whinge to a Shakespearean professor, not poor Chris Terrio and Co and certainly not BvS fans. All I can say is that should one possess an understanding of the genre BvS falls into, and indeed, was intended to fall into, one should also be aware of the fact that adapting the Death of Superman arc was and still is an entirely natural creative choice to make: it is a revenge tragedy, and Clark’s death befits his status as a protagonist in BvS.
2. Fearful (Narrative) Symmetry
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Originally posted by daydreamingwintertrees
This is entirely relevant to the analysis of symmetry, I promise
For the purposes of our discussion, it may be fruitful to venture several (educated) guesses about why the death of the hero is a genre convention, and explore how these reasons apply to the creative endeavour that is BvS. It has not escaped notice that BvS both begins and ends with a funeral (earliest mention probably here), which lends an elegant narrative symmetry to its five-part structure. Moreover, the use of this vivid visual cue reflects the film’s identity as a revenge tragedy. In his book Issues of Death: Mortality and Identity in English Renaissance Tragedy, Michael Neill links the thematic focus on death and the death of the hero convention in revenge tragedy to Frank Kermode’s seminal theory on fiction as the product of man’s existential struggle with his mortality (see: The Sense of an Ending: Studies in the Theory of Fiction). According to Kermode, and abridged heavily for the purposes of this meta, the inability to accept that human life is but a blip in the history of time as we hurtle onward to the inevitable end drives writers to create meaning for the deaths (and by extension, the lives) of their characters – to make possible “a satisfying consonance with the origins and the middle” of human existence, as it were. Now, there’s a lot more we can get into here about what type of apocalyptic narrative BvS is, but in order not to stray from the original research question, we go back to Michael Neill.
In light of Kermode’s notion of apocalyptic writing, so to speak, Neill observes that revenge tragedies are fundamentally about the relationship between the living and the dead. For Elizabethan and Jacobean writers, contemplating this relationship was of imperative urgency: born of the anxiety following the removal of purgatory from their understanding of the afterlife under Protestant rule. In essence, denied purgatory, the dead were no longer able to pay penance for their sins, and that meant eternal limbo, which is Not Fun. The structure of revenge tragedies, made perfect in Hamlet, is thus meant to draw out the playwright’s intimations on death: the first act establishes the need for revenge (usually with the use of the ghost) and the last act shows the revenge being complete, which gives narrative closure to the first premise, but raises another problem in the event the hero does not die.
As anyone with any sense knows, an act of revenge opens the door for yet another act of revenge, and late 16th/early 17th writers had (1) more sense, (2) respect for the fact that the revenge itself is a moral transgression, than to leave such a plothole dangling (or perhaps they just did not share our generation’s enthusiasm for sequel baits). Thus the dramatic narrative requires “an act of writerly violence, committed by the author or his dramatic surrogate”. The boundaries of the play world are drawn with graveyards, yielding the observation that we, the living, only become free from the demands of the dead when we join the dead. (As an aside, interesting that JL undoes this, because Clark is coming back, and in that sense we begin to understand why Zack Snyder was reluctant to show that shot of the earth rising.)
There is, thus, a strong thematic coherence running through the invocation of death and the death of the hero, something that BvS has in spades. While Batman v Superman was not born of the religious soul-searching instigated by the struggle between Catholicism and Protestantism, the film’s narrative is very much built upon devastating and seemingly senseless death – it draws its political bearings from the wake of a particular event that the destruction of Metropolis is meant to evoke: September 11. The essential randomness of Thomas and Martha Wayne’s violent shooting has been well-covered, and the same can be said of the Black Zero event, if we look at things from the perspective of those who lost something that day. Sure, there are explanations – the entirety of Man of Steel – but what’s that to you and me, who had so much more to give the world and merely had the bad luck to be in Metropolis in that particular place on that particular day? It is easy to acknowledge that there is cruelty in the world, and that life must end, but it is far harder to accept that one’s life is to be spilled out across the ruins of another man’s battle when one has no real reason for being embroiled in that struggle, no matter what the reasons for said battle are. The same can be said about the real tragedies that have been perpetrated throughout the world this week and of the people that have been implicated in them.
WARNING: THIS VIDEO CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE ULTIMATE EDITION
In the wake of senseless destruction, all that remains is a search for meaning – be it in discovering the reasons why or what to do next – will follow. And so begins the film’s invitation to ponder death, as Bruce sets off on his revenge mission. Clark’s hero role in this is a little unorthodox (from a narrative sense), for he gets his revenge mission much later on (thanks a lot Warner Bros, for cutting Zack’s original vision), but what we do know is that his death serves a purpose.
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Originally posted by warriordianas
A purposeful death is the playwright’s response to the senseless violence – ironically giving life to Bruce’s worldview about beating sense into the world – the end of one’s life can still be meaningful. The sentiment has been raised in Man of Steel – Faora’s “A good death is its own reward” – and it is echoed now, with respect to the least soldier-like of the DC Trinity. There was always something noble and dignified in the restraint with which Clark carried himself (soldier-like gravitas one of the reasons for Snyder thinking Henry Cavill the right choice for Clark, and incidentally, this is the reason why the Reeve-era bumbling absolutely cannot work in the DCEU as a matter of characterisation), but he was never trained the way Diana or even Bruce was, and any invocation of the military with respect to the Superman is never portrayed as how Clark saw himself. This is evident in Bruce’s questioning of the appropriateness of the State bestowing upon Superman a state funeral in the style of a soldier at the end; we also recall Bruce’s Knightmare and how it is only an altered Clark who would invoke the might of the military to impose his will. Terrio, Snyder, etc thus introduce ambiguity into the proposition that “[a] good death is its own reward”. Does one really have control over how one is perceived at all? Particularly when one is dead? Because it would be a sin not to quote Hamilton, I am speaking of “Who lives? Who dies? Who writes your story?” The Death of Superman arc allows the film to present a lengthy funeral sequence, which is included firstly because the pomp of ceremony is very much a human response to apocalyptic reality: as well as being a revenge tragedy convention, it is a means of mourning, and a chance to proclaim the consequence of a person’s life. This act of proclamation is necessarily the construction of a narrative about the departed, and whether the line between record and fabrication is crossed whilst said narrative is constructed is always questionable, particularly when we are dealing with a figure of legend like Superman. This ties in neatly to the sustained treatment of another theme – that of truth in the face of conflicting and competing narratives.
WARNING: THIS VIDEO CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE ULTIMATE EDITION
Very quickly, because it is not the subject of our present study, BvS deals with the difficulties of finding the truth about the people through hearsay or secondary evidence. The perennial occupation of historical studies as well as journalism (and literary analysis – see notion of unreliable narration), adapting the Death of Superman arc allows BvS to be more complete in its treatment of this theme because having shown the impact of acting via listening in a world where voices clamour to drown each other out in a contest for dominance over the narrative about oneself, BvS then acknowledges that one can only exert control over the narrative whilst one is still living. The aposiopesis of death results in an utter loss of control over man’s legacy, proving the anxious over apocalyptic destiny to be right all along. (The religious allusions and references to Arthurian legend underscore this particular aspect of the film.)
Of course, we also see the classic revenge tragedy maxim played out – we only cease to be burdened by the dead when we become the dead – but in allowing Clark to die for Bruce (and the rest of humanity) and then Bruce to be inspired, Terrio has placed a gloss on that rather depressing truism: ghosts are not always burdens upon the living and tragedy can beget goodness. As such, there were thematic and structural reasons to invoke the Death of Superman arc within BvS, and Chris Terrio did not randomly wake up one day and decide that he really should adapt that famous story, just ‘cause. (Funnily enough the point of revenge tragedy is to establish sense in death but BvS detractors seem to prefer senseless death instead of looking for the sense in it all when that is a plausible interpretation, leading me to jokingly draw the conclusion that Kermode is wrong and that postmodernism or perhaps dada-ism is the way to go.)
3. Journey of the Hero
The discussion on legends brings us neatly to the characterisation aspects of the narrative choice to adapt the Death of Superman arc. Simply put, the Rules of Writing have it that Clark has to face death. In this instalment. Yes, Chris Terrio didn’t wake up one morning and…you know the drill.
You see, there’s this guy called Joseph Campbell, and Joseph Campbell was famous for many things, but the thing he’s most famous for in the writing world is his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces (henceforth “Hero”). The really rather abridged version of his thesis is that there’s a universal narrative structure that runs through all myths about heroes (“the monomyth”), and any story about an archetypal hero tends to adhere to this structure somewhat, whether consciously or unconsciously. (An example of Very Very On the Nose consciously-following-Campbell would be Lucas’s Star Wars, another example is The Matrix). Clark is an archetypal hero – the noble figure who triumphs over adversity with his feats of strength (moral, psychological, physical) etc – and BvS an episode in his hero journey. I contend that the inclusion of the Death of Superman arc corresponds to the portion of Clark’s journey BvS covers, and indeed, that the application of Campbell’s Hero monomyth thesis requires there to be an adaptation of the Death of Superman. (Well not precisely a homage to the original comic book story, but we all know how respectful Snyder is of the source material and of other creators, which I think is very considerate and humble on his part.)
We know that Terrio wrote BvS as Act II of a trilogy. We also have at our fingers Man of Steel, which allows us to piece together some part of how Campbell’s vision is coming to fruition in Clark’s story, though apologies will be made in advance if the line between BvS and Justice League is not clear in this analysis since it is written before we have conclusive news of the latter. (As a complete and utter aside – apologies in advance for mentioning The Other Side here, but I promise it’s relevant – someone needs to do a comparative analysis of the Captain America trilogy with the Superman one once Justice League is out with Campbell as the common factor.)
Campbell gave the following sequence of events in the hero monomyth:
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(source: http://www.sfcenter.ku.edu/Workshop-stuff/Joseph-Campbell-Hero-Journey.htm)
At the end of Man of Steel, Clark crosses the First Threshold and lines are drawn: enemies made, friends acquired, Clark literally leaves his previous life and starts a new one as a reporter/superhero (“Whale’s Belly” – hero is fully separated from previous existence as a means of showing his willingness to undergo metamorphosis). Technically speaking, if the story is viewed from Clark’s perspective then the rehash of the Black Zero event from Bruce’s perspective is still part of Act I.
We should thus see BvS as the part of the hero’s journey where he is operating within the special world, the second Act, the part of the hero’s journey labelled in this diagram as “Supreme Ordeal” and under the heading of “Initiation” in Campbell’s Hero itself. A cursory reading of Hero combined with a vague familiarity with BvS will yield the observation that Campbell’s proverbial fingerprints are all over the script. What matters for our current purposes is that Act II is intentionally a dark time for our hero, where the “difficult tasks” motif features strongly and where some sort of death will occur for the full realisation of the hero. We know this from the horse’s mouth:
“Batman v Superman” is a bit of an “Empire Strikes Back” or “Two Towers” or any similar middle film in a trilogy. The middle film tends to be the darkest one. I do think from “Man of Steel” through “Justice League,” it is one saga really.
It is also borne out in Hero:
Once having traversed the threshold [having decided to become Clark Kent, Reporter and Superman], the hero moves in a dream landscape of curiously fluid, ambiguous forms, where he must survive a succession of trials. The hero is covertly aided by the advice, amulets and secret agents of the supernatural helper whom he met before his entrance into this region. Or it may be that he here discovers for the first time that there is a benign power everywhere supporting him in his superhuman passage. (page 81)
And:
The original departure into the land of trials represented only the beginning of the long and really perilous path of initiatory conquests and moments of illumination. Dragons have now to be slain and surprising barriers passed – again, again and again. Meanwhile there will be a multitude of preliminary victories, unretainable ecstasies, and momentary glimpses of the wonderful land. (page 90)
Having established that this is the relevant section of the hero’s journey we are to confine our analysis to, I wish to draw your attention to this summary by Campbell of Act I and II, with my added commentary and emphasis:
The mythological hero, setting forth from his common-day hut or castle, is lured, carried away, or else voluntarily proceeds, to the threshold of adventure [this would be MoS]. There he encounters a shadow presence that guards the passage. The hero may defeat or conciliate this power and go alive into the kingdom of the dark (brother-battle, dragon-battle; offering, charm), or be slain by the opponent and descend in death (dismemberment, crucifixion). Beyond the threshold, then, [BvS starts here] the hero journeys through a world of unfamiliar yet strangely intimate forces, some of which severely threaten him (tests), some of which give magical aid (helpers). When he arrives at the nadir of the mythological round, he undergoes a supreme ordeal and gains his reward. The triumph may be represented as the hero’s sexual union with the goddess-mother of the world (sacred marriage), his recognition by the father-creator (father atonement), his own divinization (apotheosis), or again – if the powers have remained unfriendly to him – his theft of the boon he came to gain (bride-theft, fire-theft); intrinsically it is an expansion of consciousness and therewith of being (illumination, transfiguration, freedom). The final work is that of the return. [And JL starts here so the extract will end here.] (page 211)
The two stages that are applicable to Clark in BvS are father atonement and apotheosis. The former is applicable in a loose rather than literal manner, least of all because Clark’s relationships with Jonathan and Jor-El are both positive. It is instead the “germinal” power of the creator we are to focus on, as well as the possibility of Zod being a mentor of sorts to Clark had Man of Steel gone a little differently (a father figure), and the unholy union of the two manifests in the figure of Doomsday.
It should be clear from this extract how Lex’s hero journey is perverted all through the film – knowledge does not lead him to become a hero as we understand it even though his journey can be analysed under the same Campbell headings
Several extracts from Hero thus show the necessarily cataclysmic impact of the confrontation between Clark and Doomsday (emphasis mine):
”Atonement consists in no more than the abandonment of that self-generated double monster—the dragon thought to be God (superego) and the dragon thought to be Sin (repressed id). But this requires an abandonment of the attachment to ego itself, and that is what is difficult. One must have a faith that the father is merciful, and then a reliance on that mercy. Therewith, the center of belief is transferred outside of the bedeviling god’s tight scaly ring, and the dreadful ogres dissolve. (page 107, 110)
It is in this ordeal that the hero may derive hope and assurance from the helpful female figure, by whose magic (pollen charms or power of intercession) he is protected through all the frightening experiences of the father’s ego-shattering initiation. For if it is impossible to trust the terrifying father-face, then one’s faith must be centered elsewhere (Spider Woman, Blessed Mother); and with that reliance for support, one endures the crisis—only to find, in the end, that the father and mother reflect each other, and are in essence the same. (page 110)
The paradox of creation, the coming of the forms of time out of eternity, is the germinal secret of the father. It can never be quite explained. Therefore, in every system of theology there is an umbilical point, an Achilles tendon which the finger of mother life has touched, and where the possibility of perfect knowledge has been impaired. The problem of the hero is to pierce himself (and therewith his world) precisely through that point; to shatter and annihilate that key knot of his limited existence.
The problem of the hero going to meet the father is to open his soul beyond terror to such a degree that he will be ripe to understand how the sickening and insane tragedies of this vast and ruthless cosmos are completely validated in the majesty of Being. The hero transcends life with its peculiar blind spot and for a moment rises to a glimpse of the source. He beholds the face of the father, understands—and the two are atoned.“ (page 124, 125)
Clark abandons his doubt, with help from Lois, and then literally pierces himself in his triumph over Doomsday. There is also a metaphorical piercing of his world – the stab to Lois’s heart (and also maybe Bruce, though we know he is on his own hero journey and therefore shouldn’t really be part of this equation). Atonement – a form of completion – is attained and the hero fully initiated:
The last act in the biography of the hero is that of the death or departure. Here the whole sense of the life is epitomised. Needless to say, the hero would be no hero if death held for him any terror; the first condition is reconciliation with the grave. (page 306)
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Originally posted by jodockerys
All that remains is apotheosis, which is the stage where a hero dies (either a physical or spiritual death) and enters a period of divine knowledge, peace, love and compassion before the Return. Campbell quotes the Pranja-Paramita-Hridaya Sutra: “When the envelopment of consciousness has been annihilated, then he becomes free of all fear, beyond the reach of change.” The state of peace and love in apotheosis is universal, as opposed to particularistic:
Totem, tribal, racial, and aggressively missionising cults represent only partial solutions of the psychological problem of subduing hate by love; they only partially initiate. Ego is not annihilated in them; rather, it is enlarged; instead of thinking only of himself, the individual becomes dedicated to the whole of his society. The rest of the world meanwhile (that is to say, by far the greater portion of mankind) is left outside the sphere of his sympathy and protection because outside the sphere of the protection of his god [sic]. And there takes place, then, that dramatic divorce of the two principles of love and hate which the pages of history so bountifully illustrate. Instead of clearing his own heart the zealot tries to clear the world. The laws of the city of God are applied only to his in-group (tribe, church, nation, class, or what not) while the fire of a perpetual holy war is hurled (with good conscience, and indeed a sense of pious service) against whatever uncircumcised, barbarian, heathen, “native”, or alien people happens to occupy the position of neighbor…Once we have broken free of the prejudices of our own provincially limited ecclesiastical, tribal or national rendition of the world archetypes, it becomes possible to understand that the supreme initiation is not that of the local motherly fathers, who then project aggression onto the neighbors for their own defense. The good news, which the World Redeemer brings and which so many have been glad to hear, zealous to preach, but relunctant, apparently, to demonstrate, is that God is love, that He can be, and is to be, loved, and that all without exception are his children. (page 133-135)
The bolded words in the extract above should be reminiscent of the conflict between Lex and Clark in BvS:
(see 0:19-1:05)
With the Death of Superman, Clark’s universal sacrifice – motivated by unconditional love – has upended Lex’s vision of what initiation can ever be in a world he perceives as inherently cruel. Naturally, the nuke scene alone was enough to check the box for this aspect of the Campbell journey, but that would have frustrated the first two points I have covered in this meta. At this point it should be clear that adapting the Death of Superman arc was in no way a misguided creative choice and its adaptation checked the boxes for both narrative and thematic coherence – hardly a poor adaptation bankrupt of creative integrity and skill, wouldn’t you say?
4. Pathos
There exists one more aspect that we have to discuss: whether enough pity or sadness has been evoked. Successful storytelling requires the audience to care about one’s hero, and Clark’s death is only impactful if the audience was invested in him to begin with.
Unfortunately, we cannot approach this question from the perspective of legacy in pop culture alone because there is only so much Blast from the Past frissons can do as a substitute for storytelling as opposed to enhancing inherently effective storytelling, and while Superman is the original superhero and has instant brand-recognition we have to account for the fact that the general audience expects a Reeve!Superman and will be coping with their cognitive dissonance all through the film if they hadn’t demonstrated due diligence and watched Man of Steel first.
Let’s be honest – most people probably thought they could coast on their knowledge of Batman and skipped MoS, which clearly was a…
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Originally posted by bitterandthirsty
Though quite a number of my friends did skip MoS and still liked BvS fine, so what do you know, its vision of love does inspire all and sundry
It must thus be reluctantly admitted that theatrical cut of BvS somewhat hampers the effectiveness of the Death of Superman arc, because of Clark’s scenes were cut. Now, I absolutely adore Henry Cavill’s interpretation of Clark no less than any other DCEU fan, but logically speaking, less time with Clark – especially given his laconic nature – means less time for the audience to foster mushy feelings for his mere presence on screen. The theatrical cut coped with this limitation on the fostering of goodwill for Clark as much as possible: the Saving The World montage functions as much as a ploy to make the audience like Clark (come on guys, he saves a little girl from a burning building among other things!) as it does as an exploration of the key themes in the film. His relationship with Lois is also meant to endear him to the audience (humanity), which is the narrative function of the Clois relationship in the Superman mythos since the beginning of time.
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Originally posted by shawncrushmore
With such limitations, it is for the actors to carry the scenes and here is where subjectivity runs high. I love Henry Cavill’s Clark. But you may not, and that is your prerogative, and if it doesn’t work for you but could have grown on you then the theatrical cut does all of his dedication and hard work a disservice.
There is, therefore, the possibility of a pathos gap, such that for all the good reasons (1) to (3), perhaps the film failed a little on (4) and thus the adaptation of the Death of Superman did not hit the sweet spot (of tears and pain) it was supposed to. But this is not a criticism that can be levelled against the Ultimate Edition, which, we must remember, was Snyder’s original vision. Moreover, hate notwithstanding, many a person did respond emotionally to the ending in the theatrical cut – it did work, to considerable extent.
Conclusion
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Originally posted by dcfilms
In 1992, The Death of Superman shook the comic book world. 24 years later, the adaptation of this arc pushes the boundaries of comic book filmmaking. As can be seen from the above discussion, the creative team behind Batman v Superman deserved to have the honour of adapting the Death of Superman arc, for it was a logical creative choice from the perspective of narrative tradition, thematic treatment and characterisation. Examination of the finished product reveals that the writing and filming was sensitively and respectfully done – complete with allusions to religion and mythology – all of which really can only be attributed to the passionate nature of the filmmakers involved. It is probably obvious by now, that I absolutely adore this film. If you do not share my passion, having read this today, I hope you begin to understand why.
*Thank you very much for reading this meta and I hope you enjoyed it. Special thanks to @kimmiecoo , @john1106, @theonlyamazingtazmin, @storyadvocate and everyone else who encouraged/helped me on all through my process of working on this meta, without whom this would not have materialised at all (I’m so sorry if I fail to mention you here; I wrote this over a very long period of time and I looked through more than a month of my tumblr history but you may have featured before that and please know that I have nothing but gratefulness in my heart for you anyway). This is dedicated to the DCEU fandom – here’s my second love letter to you all!
OL: https://www.the-fanboy-perspective.com/why-superman-had-to-die.html