Superman has lost a fight for the first time: he lies on the ice sheet, his face bloodied and battered. So James Gunn’s film begins. His Superman is no longer the man of steel: he’s just a man, vulnerable (physically and emotionally), torn, imperfect. No wonder his suit, as re-imagined by costume designer Judianna Makovsky, is flawed too: a “uniform… Oversized, a little awkward,” says Makovsky.
Fans and critics have ranked every iteration of the Superman costume, from George Reeves’ to David Corenswet’s, and have done so purely on the basis of their comic book fidelity. Here at Playgirl, however, we aren’t as concerned with accuracy. We’re concerned with sexiness. And we wonder: In his effort to make Superman a real person and his costume a real “uniform,” has Gunn emasculated him?
Superman • Warner Bros.
The new costume doesn’t fit Corenswet like a glove, it lacks the smooth, spandex-like (and very revealing) texture of Reeve’s (1978) and Routh’s (2006): in fact, it looks baggy and vaguely censorius, it features armored textures, a high collar covering every inch of his neck, and… red trunks as oversized as Reeves’, way back in the 50s: Routh shrunk them down to a sexier brief, Cavill (2015) and Hoechlin (2021) shed them, Corenswet (2025) wears them as something in between a chastity belt (!) and a retro boxer.
Superman • Warner Bros.
The end result is that Corenswet’s Clark Kent, in a white shirt and gray pants, looks ten times hotter than the (desexualized) superhero with his red cape. The fantasy of the muscle-bound Superman is out, a new (politically correct) vision of masculinity is in. Missing Cavill’s ripped body yet?
