In a tone-deaf interview at the recent Supergirl premiere, Australian actress Milly Alcock gushed about how "honored" she is by queer readings of the character during Pride Month. She called Kara Zor-El a "really great representation of what a modern woman can be", strong, tough, and "messy", and celebrated the film's decision to ditch any romance storyline entirely.
"She has such resilience — and I think that [the LGBTQ+] community is so, so resilient. I’m really honored that they can connect to her," Alcock told Variety. She also praised how the movie avoids centering "any sort of love or romance or anything like that at all."
The clip has gone viral for all the wrong reasons, with many viewers calling the comments forced, preachy, and completely out of touch with what audiences actually want from a superhero film: action, fun, and a compelling story, not another lecture on "modern woman" representation and activist talking points.
This is the same tired playbook that's already sunk multiple big-budget superhero projects.
Remember The Marvels? Disney's female-led MCU entry opened to the franchise's worst-ever domestic debut and limped to the lowest-grossing MCU movie in history, barely cracking $200 million worldwide against a massive budget.
Similar complaints about heavy-handed messaging and prioritizing identity over entertainment plagued its rollout.
Recent years have seen a string of underperformers across the genre, from certain Marvel sequels to live-action Disney flops, where studios appeared more focused on checking boxes for activists than delivering broad-appeal entertainment. Superhero movies as a whole have struggled, with several 2024-2025 releases failing to hit the massive numbers the genre once delivered routinely.
Now, Supergirl, set for release this Friday, June 26, is walking the same path. The film, directed by Craig Gillespie and loosely based on Tom King's comics, stars Alcock as Kara Zor-El in what was supposed to be a fresh take on the new DC Universe. Instead of letting the character stand on her own classic appeal, the star is busy signaling virtue to a tiny slice of the audience.
Core superhero fans — the ones who actually buy the tickets in big numbers, are already rolling their eyes.
They've seen this movie before: the "strong female character" who doesn't need romance, the emphasis on "resilience" and identity over heroics, the smug dismissal of traditional storytelling elements. It didn't save The Marvels, and it won't magically make Supergirl a hit.
Warner Bros. and DC Studios are banking on this being a summer tentpole. But with the genre already facing audience fatigue and trust issues, injecting another dose of Hollywood's favorite flavor — wokeness, is a recipe for disappointment. Early online reaction to Alcock's comments suggests the film is starting its theatrical run with a self-inflicted wound.
Studios keep learning the hard way (or refusing to learn): when you prioritize pandering to niche activist groups over entertaining the broad, paying public, the box office tends to deliver a brutal verdict. Supergirl looks poised to join the growing list of expensive corporate superhero experiments that crashed and burned in the name of "progress."
Audiences just want good movies. Hollywood keeps giving them sermons instead.
