Alright, let’s get this plot stuff out of the way. Kara Zor-El, eventually known as Supergirl, is Superman’s older cousin, who was sent to Earth before the destruction of Krypton, along with Supes, to keep an eye on him. She got pulled into some kind of intergalactic time warp (It’s just a jump to the left, etc) and ended up reaching the earth a couple dozen years younger than him. So Superman gave her to Mr. and Mrs. Danvers (one-time Kryptonians Dean Cain and Helen Slater, for those paying attention) and their daughter Alex (Chyler Lee).
Kara grows up trying to fit in, to be as “normal” as possible, because the world already has Superman, and he doesn’t need her anymore. She grows up and moves to National City, which is basically DC. She gets a mundane job as an assistant to demanding media mogul Cat Grant (Calista Flockhart, clearly having fun). Her nerdy, chisel-jawed co-worker Winn (Jeremy Jordan) has a crush on her, but Kara has the hots for the super-hunky new Black photographer Cat’s hired. You know, Jimmy Olsen (Mehcad Brooks). Only this hunky version insists on being called James. He’s from Metropolis and talks about his relationship with Superman the way someone who’s never actually met Superman would, so I was surprised to learn by the end of the episode that they actually are pretty tight.
Kara is doing a good job of stifling her superpoweredness until Alex (now her roommate) is on a flight to Geneva that loses one of its engines. Kara thinks about it for a moment, then flies off to carry the plane to safety, rescuing everyone on board. It kind of makes you wonder how many planes she let crash before that one, though.
Now that Kara has outed herself as a superhero, it turns out that Alex works for a secret government agency, the Department of Extranormal Operations, or the DEO. Her boss is the alien-hating Hank Henshaw (David Harewood). Naturally, Kara’s a little miffed that Alex has kept this a secret from her for many years. You’d think with the super-hearing and seeing through walls and everything, Kara’s not the type of roommate you could keep that kind of secret from, but well, I guess Kara just trusted Alex.
Kara doesn’t heed Alex’s warnings to keep her head down, and she ends up getting beaten up by Vartox (Owain Yeoman), a misogynistic alien dude. (“On my planet, women kneel before men!” “This isn’t your planet!”)
Oh, that time-warp thing I mis-described above was actually the Phantom Zone, where Krypton sent its prisoners, so when Kara passed through, some prison ship latched onto her escape pod; I am not well-versed in this universe, as you may have noticed. In any case, the prison ship crashed on Earth, too, and so I guess they’ve all been biding their time and waiting for Kara to be old enough to give them a fair fight when they try to murder her. Because it turns out Kara’s mom back on Krypton was some kind of badass judge who sent all these prisoners to the Phantom Zone. This all makes sense, right? Well, maybe just enough sense that the show is kind of fun to watch, in a way I haven’t found with Arrow, or The Flash, or Gotham, though of course that last one’s not supposed to be fun. At least, I hope not.
Melissa Benoist stars as Kara/Supergirl, and she’s terrific. Adorable. She brings the same kind of goofy, naively enthusiastic charm to the role that Christopher Reeve brought to those old Superman movies. She would be the best, most fun thing about the show if it weren’t for this other thing.
You see, my original plan was to write a mostly positive review of the series premiere of Supergirl but with a few caveats. Plotting, for example, is not its strong suit. Some of the expository stuff is clunky. It’s inordinately self-congratulatory about being a feminist show. The CGI effects are cheap-looking and unconvincing.
Wait, what’s up with slipping that one bit there into a list of otherwise mostly innocuous (but still super-insightful) criticisms? The part about it being self-congratulatory. Make no mistake, Supergirl is high on its own supply (of feminism, laced with color-blind casting). But it didn’t take me too long to realize that A) I kind of enjoyed that “in your face” aspect of the show, complete with its questioning both Supergirl’s moniker (“Shouldn’t we call her ‘Superwoman’?) and the comic’s midriff-baring costume (“I wouldn’t wear this to the beach”), its name-slamming Bill O’Reilly and climaxing with Supergirl vanquishing an intergalactic MRA douche-bro, using his own ignorant underestimation of her abilities. And B) Any brief, unwise perusal of “user reviews” or really just comments anywhere the show is being discussed online indicates that it’s kind of a necessary pre-emptive corrective to the kind of vitriol awaiting any kind of mild display of feminism in popular culture. So instead of being a little irritated by the way the show constantly winks at the audience in signaling its mildly feminist and corrective agenda, I begin to see that aspect of it, not as a wink at me and other fair-minded folks, and not as pandering, but as a “nanny-nanny boo-boo” at anyone small-minded and hateful enough to be put out because there’s a superhero show on TV that is actually pro-woman and pro-girl and wears that on its sleeve.
So sure, Supergirl is a bit corny and kind of sloppy, but it’s also considerable fun, especially if you enjoy the silly schadenfreude of it all.