The design of everything Kryptonian is such an imaginative fantasy. Hans Zimmer forges his own path with the soundtrack rather than staying in John Williams' shadow. The use of visual allusion is top-notch. But the core of this movie is Clark Kent, the same age as Jesus, who wants to do the right thing with his great power but is deeply concerned about how.
It is in many ways of its time (2013), exemplifying some timely tendencies that its sequel (2016) backs off on. By the mid-2010s, American filmmakers felt comfortable making entertainment that reflected 9/11; the World Engine's attack on Metropolis quotes documentary footage of ground zero. And unlike many fantasies of urban destruction, no attempt is made to depict it as bloodless. More than just a harrowing aesthetic, it is about the trauma of that kind of sudden mass destruction. It falls within a trend of movies with a lot of military characters, romanticizing military discipline and using military vigilance to drive its plot. (See also: "Godzilla" (2013))
The soldiers of Man of Steel are presented admiringly. The sober caution of General Swanwick (who's said to be J'onn J'onzz, keep an eye out for it), the unflinching courage of Colonel Hardy, the precise insights of Dr. Hamilton, the various grunts who feed the audience cues that this is Superman and he's someone to be respected. But at the same time, it depicts them as not just ineffective, but actively harmful. They can't keep Clark or Lois out of the scout ship site, their handcuffs are like tissue paper, they shoot up main street in Smallville because they can't tell the friendly foreigners from the enemy foreigners, they launch missiles that land on fleeing civilians. Not a single bullet fired in this film accomplishes anything good, and they fire plenty. Zod's followers recognize them as kindred spirits, a bad sign.
The juxtaposition of unimpeachably professional conduct and Keystone Kops effectiveness is no accident. It's not only that it falls within the culturally acceptable parameters that you're allowed to criticize the military but not the troops. When it comes to violence, Zack Snyder always tries to have it both ways (to varying degrees of success). In "300," the Spartans were horrible arrogant infanticidal fascists and physically flawless badasses doing sicknasty stunts with heroic framing. In "Watchmen," every fight scene is cooler than the source material even though its participants are no less repulsive. Some students of cinema have remarked on the seeming impossibility of making an anti-war movie, because to depict violence (so the theory goes) is to glorify it. Snyder seems to have concluded that it's better to be hung for a sheep than for a lamb, so to speak, and tries to get as much glory out of it as he can, seemingly in the hopes that the audience can separate their moral judgment from their aesthetic judgment.
Tonally, it's a very serious movie. There's maybe three jokes in the whole thing, nor does it indulge in glitzy glamor. This makes it unique among cape flicks. It's somber throughout, with harrowing apocalyptic visions and bold pronouncements about the fate of the world. The uplifting message of hope at the end is that Superman is here, he is operating openly, and he trusts you. He trusts humanity, despite everything.
