Zach Cregger’s Weapons Redefines Modern Horror

Richard Linklater is known for his temporal distortions, which he often varies over the course of decades, as in the Before trilogy or Boyhood. But in his 2025 magnum opus, Blue Moon, he does something radically different. He condenses the crushing burden of an entire career going down the tubes into a single confining night in the bowels of Sardi’s restaurant.

This movie is not simply a biopic, it’s a chamber piece on the brutal architecture of artistic mourning. It is March 31, 1943, and with these words the film memorializes the end of the Jazz Age, which was immediately supplanted by the “golden age” of the musical theater. 

Larry Hart’s Emotional Unraveling Inside the Walls of Sardi’s

The setup is ruinously straightforward. Lorenz “Larry” Hart (an electric Ethan Hawke), the brilliant, jaded lyricist half of the legendary Rodgers and Hart team, is holding up the bar at Sardi’s.

Just across the street, his one-time soul mate and partner, Richard Rodgers, is debuting Oklahoma! with another partner, Oscar Hammerstein II. Hart must wait in the limbo of the restaurant, the muted applause he can hear is the sound of him being made redundant. 

Linklater has said the film “Deals with a trauma that is, in a way, two-fold.” 

This is not just a business split, it’s an artistic divorce between two men who defined an era together. Rodgers, the practical puppet master, had to change in order to live, to detach himself from Hart’s chaotic alcoholism and revue-style wit to something more formal and honest. Hart, the poetic soul of the roaring twenties, was just abandoned. 

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Ethan Hawke’s Career-Defining Transformation as Lorenz Hart

The brilliance of Blue Moon is that it knows how to wait. According to The Guardian, Linklater and Hawke had been thinking about this film for more than ten years. Linklater famously told Hawke years ago, 

“I’ll wait 10 years,” 

Knowing the actor had to age into the role. To play the battered, gnome-like figure of the 47-year-old Hart, a guy worn down by drink and depression, he had to lose his youthful boyishness. 

That prolonged timeline gives the film a deep, lived-in sadness. We see Hart desperately go through the motions of his old self — flirting, quipping, drinking trying to drown out the scary fact that the society he helped shape has no use for him anymore. He derides the “corny” nostalgia of Oklahoma! and cannot understand why the audience’s preference has moved away from his urbane sophistication to simple country sweetness.

Blue Moon Feels Like a Love Letter to Forgotten Artists

“We all think we’re gonna run the table forever but tastes can change,” Linklater says in the production notes. 

That is the film’s haunting thesis. Blue Moon is a monument to the “loser” of historical change. It’s a beautiful, sad recognition that sometimes even the most brilliant cultural architects find themselves trapped in the past, watching the future being built just down the street without them. 

Conclusion

Blue Moon isn’t merely a movie — it’s an elegy. Linklater creates a haunting reflection on change, mourning and the slow brutality of time. The film, anchored by Ethan Hawke’s brilliant performance, reminds us that even the most brilliant creative minds can quickly become relics. It’s a masterwork of stillness, sorrow and storytelling: a paean to those who made the past even as they watched the future speed by. 

Our daily coverage brings you the key takeaways, storytelling and pop-culture shifts from cinema. The Fandomfan’s mission is to assist you understand films not just as entertainment, but as cultural events that influence in the world of what we think. 

Supergirl’s outfit has never been just an outfit. Costume has been a constant source of identity issues for the character. And still, a debate continues to revolve on social platforms. From Melissa Benoist’s sunny Arrowverse take on the character to Milly Alcock’s gritty DCU debut, Supergirl’s wardrobe has been telling stories long before she’s landed her first blow.

At the heart of the development of Supergirl’s look is not about fashion trends. It is what kind of hero the world needs her to be. And while Benoist’s suit was a symbol of unity and hope, Alcock’s costume is for survival, sorrow, and isolation. Those two creations embody very different approaches to storytelling. 

The Arrowverse Supergirl: Dressing the Paragon of Hope

It seemed like there were dark leather suits and gritty realism everywhere when Supergirl premiered in 2015. Costume designer Colleen Atwood had to find a way to take Silver Age idealism and translate it into a contemporary, realistic look without making the character seem cold.

The solution was subtlety. Melissa Benoist’s costume was based more on texture than armor or detailing. The matte Euro-jersey material absorbed rather than reflected light, making the outfit appear soft, friendly and human. This Supergirl was supposed to be inspiring, not frightening. Strength was there, but never aggressive. 

Arguably the most conscious decision was the omission of the notorious midriff costume that the character sported in the comics. The high neckline, long sleeves and thumb holes suggested function over fashion. Kara was portrayed as a hard-working, active hero — not a pinup. Even the thumb holes brought an “activewear” feel, making the suit more about function than fantasy. 

The Skirt Debate

For the first four seasons, the red pleated skirt was a staple of Benoist’s Supergirl. In part, it paid tribute to the character’s comic legacy and suggested that femininity and strength could co-exist. She was able to save the city, but do so while being joyous and kind and emotionally open.

But the skirt was also contentious. Critics said that it infantilized the character, comparing it to a cheerleader uniform rather than armor for battle. Yet the show leaned into this tension. That skirt sent a message: Supergirl wasn’t required to ditch the traditionally feminine signifiers to be capable. Her sunny disposition wasn’t a vulnerability — it was her superpower. 

Reality Steps In: The Pants Era

The biggest change was in  , when the character started wearing full length pants instead of the skirt. Though it was presented as maturing character-development, the change was due more so to production needs. Shooting in Vancouver’s brutal weather, the original suit was an ordeal for Benoist.

The new suit highlighted unity and protection. The elongated blue body, attached boots, and solid gold belt gave the outfit a more armored, technological look. It was sensible, but it also watered down the immediately recognizable outline Supergirl has. It was practical—but it also diluted the instantly recognizable Supergirl silhouette.

Benoist’s Supergirl remained, above all else, an icon. Her costume was sleek, luminous and aspirational, customized to comfort both viewers and the world she saved. 

The DCU Supergirl: Armor for a Broken Survivor

Milly Alcock’s Supergirl finds itself in a vastly different world. Kara is no longer defined by being integrated or hopeful under James Gunn’s DCU. She’s defined by loss.

Born amongst the remnants of Krypton and seeing all she loved perish, this Supergirl is not a light—she is a survivor. Her costume reflects that reality. Taking inspiration from Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, the costume dispenses with sleek minimalism and introduces layered textures, metallic weaves and visual weight. This is not clothing. It is armor.

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A Crest Without Warmth

The largest visual change is the House of El symbol. The Kingdom Come diagonal slash that has traditionally been a sign of disenchantment is now part of Alcock’s crest. The elimination of yellow is vital. Yellow is warmth, sunlight and positive feeling. It’s gone to indicate mourning. She bears the name of the family, but not its innocence. 

The Return of the Skirt—Reclaimed

In a surprising about-face, the DCU reintroduces the skirt. But this is not the CW’s smiling cowlick of cheer. It’s heavier, more structured, and worn with thigh-high boots. The skirt on this occasion is cultural, not cute — a claim that femininity doesn’t need justification.

In contrast to the earlier debates, Alcock’s Supergirl is not depicted as trying to be “approachable” by putting on the skirt. She vents it because she doesn’t give a damn what people think about it. Her toughness is unquestionable. 

Space Grunge and the Drifter Myth

Maybe the most revealing aspect of Alcock’s visual design is what she wears on top of the suit. The oversized trench, combat boots and sunglasses make her a cosmic drifter. This Supergirl hides herself from the world, cloaking trauma in layers.

The contrast is deliberate: under the tattered, dirty shell is the regalia of a bygone culture. It is visual storytelling at its most efficient. 

Conclusion

The shift from Arrowverse to DCU is a game changer for the genre in and of itself. Supergirl isn’t just a beacon of hope anymore. She was evidence that hope could exist after ruin. 

Melissa Benoist’s Arrowverse suit was a beacon of hope, warmth, and community, making Supergirl someone to look up to. Millie Alcock’s DCU design, however, is armor – forged through loss, survival, and emotional wounds. All of these identities give us a visual representation of Supergirl’s arc from a bright emblem of hope to a profoundly human survivor, reminding us that what a hero wears can tell the tale of who they are—and what they’ve been through. 

Catch up on the DC universe costumes revolution with facts and accurate details theory behind the symbol with Fandomfans.