Injustice

The "Evil Superman" trope has become the cinematic equivalent of a gluten-free menu option: it’s everywhere, and frankly, I’m starting to miss the original recipe. Between The Boys, Invincible, and Brightburn, we’ve spent the last decade deconstructing the Big Blue Boy Scout until there’s nothing left but a charred cape and a lot of property damage. Yet, Injustice (2021) arrives with a bit more pedigree, adapting the legendary video game and comic book run that arguably kickstarted this entire obsession with seeing Clark Kent go full tyrant.

I watched this while trying to untangle a pair of old wired headphones I found in a junk drawer, and honestly, the knot in the wires was less complicated than the pacing of this movie. At a mere 78 minutes, Injustice attempts to condense five years of sprawling, emotionally resonant comic book lore into a runtime shorter than your average supermarket trip. It’s a frantic, breakneck experience that feels less like a movie and more like watching a Wikipedia summary while someone screams the plot at you through a megaphone.

The Problem of Compressed Chaos

The premise is a classic "Elseworlds" nightmare: The Joker tires of losing to Batman and decides to play a "game" with Superman instead. Through a series of horrific events involving fear gas and a nuclear bomb, Superman accidentally kills a pregnant Lois Lane and levels Metropolis. Grief-stricken and unhinged, Clark puts a fist through the Joker’s chest and decides that if humanity can’t behave, he’ll simply force them to.

Director Matt Peters and writer Ernie Altbacker have a mountain of material to climb, and they decide to sprint to the summit. In the comics, the descent into madness is a slow, agonizing burn. Here, Superman goes from "grieving widower" to "global dictator" in about the time it takes to pop a bag of popcorn. This speed-running approach robs the story of its weight. When Justin Hartley (taking a break from his Smallville Green Arrow roots to voice Kal-El) delivers his lines, he’s doing his best to convey a man losing his soul, but the script moves so fast that we never get to sit with his pain.

Action Without Breath

As an action flick, Injustice is a bit of a mixed bag. The "Tomorrowverse" animation style—characterized by thick, bold outlines and a cleaner, more retro aesthetic—is a significant departure from the gritty, detailed look of previous DC animated films. In static shots, it looks great. In motion, however, the fights lack the "oomph" you’d expect when gods go to war.

There’s a sequence involving a massive prison break that should feel like a monumental clash of ideologies, but it plays out with a strange, clinical stiffness. We see Anson Mount (bringing a wonderful, weary gravitas to Bruce Wayne) trying to outmaneuver a Superman who has abandoned all restraint, but the choreography feels recycled. In an era where Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse has pushed animation to psychedelic new heights, Injustice feels like it’s playing it safe, relying on "shock" deaths to keep the audience engaged.

And oh, there are deaths. Because this is a standalone story, no one is safe. Character after character gets unceremoniously wiped off the board. While this creates a "what will happen next?" tension, it eventually starts to feel like a superhero-themed episode of Final Destination where the plot is just a delivery mechanism for the next grizzly exit.

Voice Casting and Missed Connections

The cast is genuinely top-tier, which makes the thin script even more frustrating. Anson Mount is arguably one of the best Batman voices we’ve had in years; he captures that specific blend of tactical genius and heartbreaking paternal disappointment. Janet Varney brings a much-needed regal authority to Diana Prince, though the movie’s version of Wonder Woman is a bit of a one-note enabler for Superman’s worst impulses.

Then there’s the Harley Quinn of it all. Gillian Jacobs (of Community fame) voices a Harley who is trying to find her footing after the Joker’s death. Her scenes with Anika Noni Rose as Catwoman provide the film's only real moments of levity and human connection. These small, character-driven beats are where the movie actually shines, reminding us why we care about these icons in the first place. But just as you start to enjoy a conversation, the movie remembers it has to blow up another city or kill a B-list hero, and we’re back to the races.

Released during a time when DC was aggressively pivoting its animation strategy toward the "Tomorrowverse" continuity, Injustice feels like a victim of studio mandate. It’s a "greatest hits" compilation that forgets to play the full songs. In the streaming era, this really should have been a four-part miniseries on Max. By trying to be a feature film, it loses the very thing that made the source material a classic: the slow, tragic erosion of a hero’s moral compass.

Ultimately, Injustice is a functional, albeit rushed, distraction for a rainy afternoon. It’s a fascinating look at how the "Evil Superman" archetype has become a genre unto itself, even if this particular entry feels like it's checking boxes rather than breaking new ground. If you’re a die-hard DC fan, you’ll enjoy seeing the various cameos and "what-if" scenarios play out, but you’ll likely leave wishing the film had the courage to slow down and let its characters breathe. It’s a spectacle of sound and fury that, while occasionally entertaining, ends up signifying very little.