I saw Brightburn (the Sadistic Superboy)...

A crossing of genres can be tricky. When it comes to speculative fiction, there's some reasonable room for overlap. M. Night Shyamalan proved this, and now producer James "Guardians of the Galaxy" Gunn has accepted the challenge, joined by co-producer Kenneth Huang and "Hive'"s deft director, David Yarovesky, for the creepy, supervillain knockoff, "Brightburn". 

"Brightburn" is also a collaboration with Gunn's brothers Brian and Mark, who wrote the underrated "Journey 2: the Mysterious Island". In this case, the siblings' script turns the Man of Steel mythos upside down: A boy (Jackson A. Dunn) crashes in Kansas via a spacecraft and is taken in by sympathetic parents, Tori and Kyle Breyer (Elizabeth Banks and David Denman). The couple name the orphan Brandon (in a nod to Routh, perhaps?), treat him like a prince, but things twist when the lad starts exhibiting peculiar powers, like chewing silverware, crushing a little girl's hand and then there's those eyes, bright and burning. 

Despite his unique nature, young Breyer initially assimilates, before getting bullied (well, it's more like come-and-go teasing) and from there decides to toss caution to the wind: murdering anyone who stands in this way and if world conquest should await, so be it.

The boy's guardians panic over the evil they've harbored, even though their intent was nothing but selfless and good. Thanks to Yarovesky's taunt direction, these guilt-ridden folks become the film's most empathetic element. We experience the mad ordeal through their eyes...feel their pain. Like them, we only wish we could turn away, but of course, with a tale this morbid, our curiosity keeps us glued. 

Brightburn, the boy's implied alias (culled from his initials and evident traits), is a harbinger invader in a "War of the Worlds" retelling or better yet, a reintroduction to "Twilight Zone'"s Anthony Fremont: a new-age conjurer of weird and frightful stuff who slips on a cape to wreck havoc. One could also consider this fable a variant of "The Omen", wherein an ersatz Damien Thorn opts for a fast, flashy rise. (Why seek the Presidency when one can all the quicker portray General Zod?)  No matter how one spins it, there's no super antithesis to thwart the hateful youth, so the best anyone can do is evade his wrath, but considering his vast powers, how is that possible?

This makes "Brightburn" not so much an ironic, comic-book derivative, but an all-out horror flick. It also makes Breyer unworthy of sympathy. I don't care what the know-it-all sociologists and shrinks say: If one is persecuted and yet feels compelled to persecute others, one is as bad as those who initiated the vile process--no, worse. Breyer isn't Carrie White, whose rage runs rampant on a particular, blood-splattered night. He isn't the spurned Frankenstein Monster, murdering in confusion and lamenting it later. He isn't Magneto or Bane, out to purge some ill-perceived plague for the betterment of all. This kid is driven to kill for the sheer, sadistic sake of it. 

"Brightburn" is also an apocalyptic analysis of society's worst traits, disguised as something alien. The message behind the symbolism is as obvious as Hell (pun intended), and all the more disturbing because of it.

Considering the recent accusations aimed at James Gunn (monstrous, unforgivable stuff if it's for real), one must wonder if "Brightburn" might not be the filmmaker's confessional vessel, where child contempt is the allegorical novelty. (I sure hope not.)  Maybe "Brightburn" is a swipe at the DC competition or action-figure icons in general. You got me, but there's no denying that it captures life's darkest, cruelest fantasies, flaunting them for all they're worth. 

Brightburn is Satan incarnate, in addition to our collective, all-mighty Hyde unleashed. We raised and/or turned a blind eye to this little bastard during the "decline of truth and justice in the modern world", making him what he is. Now we must choke on the smoldering remnants of his reign.