It was not particularly successful at the box office, either.

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It is a movie I have spent a surprisingly large amount of time thinking about, though. It might be the weirdest revenge flick I can recall seeing, and I say that as a HUGE fan of revenge flicks.

Not just your mainstream fare like “John Wick” and “The Equalizer” and “Kill Bill.” Foreign films like “Oldboy” and “I Saw the Devil” are among my favorites, too.

These films have a specific structure to them:

• The protagonist suffers (or observes) a very specific and devastating loss;

• Protagonist decides they will strike back at the person(s) responsible for this loss:

• Training/equipping/recruiting montage in which the protagonist gears up for their revenge1

• Havoc ensues;

• Before battling the final boss, the protagonist must decide whether to complete their revenge or show mercy and relent.

If you show mercy, you’re free to carry on with your life. Follow through, and the implication is that you’re ill-suited to rejoin polite society.

At the surface level, a revenge flick appears to be about whether the protagonist will succeed in their quest. But the real story is always internal: Will the protagonist sacrifice a part of their humanity to achieve revenge?

“Supergirl” is, ultimately, a revenge flick, but it takes a VERY unusual path to get there. This is likely part of the reason I keep thinking about it.2

🍿Plot points

While I wouldn’t say I loved the movie, I didn’t hate it. In fact, I very much enjoyed Millie Adcock’s Alcock’s portrayal of a grieving superhero.

While Kara Zor-El (Supergirl) is the protagonist, the main subplot revolves around Ruthye Marye Knoll. She is a 14-year-old girl, the daughter of a famous sword maker and a member of a fighting clan. Ruthye watches as Krem, the main villain, kills her family.

This is her specific and very devastating loss.

She then takes the sword-fighting skills she learned and her thoroughly Medieval sense of honor to embark on a quest to strike down the person(s) responsible.

She encounters Supergirl in a local bar. Supergirl is drunk.

While Supergirl defends Ruthye from some local louts looking to rob her, Supergirl wants no part of the young girl’s quest. Not when they first meet. Not later on. In fact, the only reason Supergirl ultimately goes along with the quest is to save her dog, Krypto. Krypto has been shot by a poison dart, and Supergirl must retrieve the antidote, which is held by Krem, who happens to be the guy who killed the young girl’s family.

Ruthye tags along anyway. At one point, she saves Supergirl from the debilitating effects of a green sun. Supergirl remains adamant that Ruthye should not take revenge on the man who killed her family.

“It will mess you up,” she shouts at one point.

This is a very common characterization of revenge, especially in Western culture. Revenge is presented as a temptress. Something that is alluring and can catch you in its thrall, but once you fall under its sway, you become obsessed with pursuing it.

Revenge is portrayed as a toxin you must resist; otherwise, it will come to dominate your life.

Revenge flicks usually adhere closely to this model.

John Wick repeatedly chooses to kill adversaries even when he knows this will increase the personal risk he faces.

In “The Equalizer,” Denzel Washington’s character finds it impossible to resist carrying out acts of revenge on behalf of others who are less capable. In “Man on Fire,” he commits himself fully to punishing anyone even peripherally connected to the abduction of a young girl who loved him in spite of how broken he had become when he first enlisted as her bodyguard.

There is nobility in the way these characters avenge wrongs, and an understanding that this comes at a tremendous cost. Yes, John Creasy is the hero of “Man on Fire” but he also dies in the back seat of a sedan after trading himself for the young girl who was abducted.

Revenge is presented as a tragic flaw.

I think this reflects how we tend to feel about revenge in everyday life. Any desire for revenge that we experience is counterbalanced by the understanding that this isn’t good for us nor is it good for society.

In Supergirl’s phrasing, “It will mess us up.”

I think this is incorrect. I do not believe revenge spoils our soul. I don’t think it means you’re destined to seek payback for every time you believe you’ve been wronged. I don’t think you’ll become some monster.

I just think revenge is never as fulfilling as we expect it to be.

Maybe we feel the payback wasn’t enough to balance the initial transgression. Or we’re mad because the person who wronged us still isn’t sorry or sufficiently ashamed. Or maybe we feel bad about lashing out at this person.

That last one is how I usually wind up feeling after deciding to “stick up for myself.” I apologize for losing my temper, for raising my voice, for making such a big deal over something.

🎬 The final act

As with most revenge flicks, “Supergirl” builds to a final, climactic battle. And in that moment, Ruthye has a moment in which she can slay the man who murdered her family.

“May this blade put an end to all the suffering you have caused,” she says, holding the edge of the sword her father made against the villain’s neck.

“Ruthye!” shouts Supergirl.

“You can’t stop me,” Ruthye replies.

“I won’t,” says Supergirl. “But if you kill him, it won’t take your pain away. You’ll have to carry him with you for the rest of your life.”

The exchange lasts a little longer. Regrets are expressed. Tears are shed.

“I’m already ruined,” Ruthye says.

“No,” says Supergirl. “Your heart is still good and open. Show him who you are. You are Ruthye Marye Knoll of the Dynastia Clan. Your family is with you even now. Your life will be your revenge.”

***** Spoiler alert (Do not read if you don’t want to know the conclusion) ******

Ruthye walks away.

After she does, Supergirl comes over to stab the villain. Twice.

The first is for what he did to her dog. The second is for the suffering he inflicted on Ruthye.

It is very much out of character for movies based on DC Comics. In that universe, the good guys do not choose to kill even the vilest villains.

The ending has been called a needle-drop moment.

I don’t know about that, but it has confused a number of people who saw the movie. They wonder why Supergirl chose not to practice what she has preached the whole movie regarding revenge and breaking the cycle of violence.

Personally, I liked the twist. Is Supergirl good or bad? Like many of us, she is a little bit of both. On the one hand, she wants to protect this young girl from the implications that would come from killing someone. On the other, she believes this dude should pay the ultimate price for what he’s done.

That last part is absolutely a reason that I’m drawn to revenge flicks. I find it exhilarating when someone decides it’s time to gear up and fight back. I used to think this was because I’m a vengeful person. In Ruthye’s words, I’ve already been ruined.

Now, I think it’s because I have a very human desire to see people who do wrong get punished.

I’ve also learned, during my 51 years walking this planet, that acting on this desire for revenge is never as satisfying or as fulfilling as I expected. In fact, I usually wind up regretting it.

But a movie is make-believe. A consequence-free way of experiencing this in at least a vicarious sense, and then—in the case of “Supergirl”—thinking about it. For months.

I’m a bit of a snob when it comes to revenge flicks. Not because I have refined taste in movies as I most certainly do not.

I might notice good cinematography. I might not. I’m not a stickler for realism, either, or even particularly good dialogue. I think Arnold Schwarzenegger is funny, and I don’t particularly care if that’s intentional.

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In other words: If you film some elaborate action sequences and stitch them together with a halfway competent plot, I’m unlikely to offer much of an objection.

However, if you try and tell me that “Taken” is a revenge film? That is a hill that I will in fact die on.

“Taken” is not a revenge film, and the reason it is not a revenge film is because it is not about revenge. It is about a man with a special set of skills going to extraordinary legnths to retrieve his daughter. The fact that this man with a special set of skills kills copious amounts of criminals along the way is simply a means to an end as opposed to an actual revenge, in which the killing of copious amounts of criminals is the end in and of itself.

Now the actual number of criminals killed is not what defines a revenge flick. Nor is the creativity employed in dispatching them. There are great revenge flicks in which absolutely no one dies.

The one essential, non-negotiable characteristic of the revenge flick, however, is that it include a character who makes a clear decision to seek retribution. They want payback for harm they believe has been inflicted on them or someone they care about.

This can be carried out in a spur-of-the-moment killing spree or it can be the result of years of meticulous planning. In can be violent or it can be so sneaky that the people who are on the receiving end of this retribution don’t fully realize what is happening.

The one thing it absolutely must include, however, is that moment when a character decides that someone is going to pay for what has been done.

I’ll show you you what I mean: “Man on Fire” is a 2004 movie starring Denzel Washington, (a young) Dakota Fanning, singer Marc Anthony and (briefly) Mickey Rourke.

Now let’s apply my revenge-flick test to this movie:

• Does it include a character who makes a clear-cut decision to inflict harm on a specific individual or group as payback for the harm and suffering they have previously suffered?

Yes. Quite memorably in fact.

Washington stars as John Creasy, who is a bodyguard for Pita, a young girl whose family is living in Mexico City. The girl is kidnapped, Creasy is shot, and after he gets out of the hospital, he is very clear about his intentions.

“What are you going to do?” the girl’s mother asks him.

“What I do best,” Creasy says. “I’m going to kill ‘em. Anyone that was involved, anybody that profited from it, anybody that opens their eyes at me.”

“You kill ‘em all,” repeats the mother.

Her tone is tough to decipher. It’s not a question, but it’s not an order, either. It’s more like she’s echoing, perhaps endorsing, his resolve.

Now, most often in a revenge flick, this will be followed by a cinematic montage in which the character who is now committed to retribution does one of three things:

• Inspects weapons;

• Compiles weapons;

• Conducts an inventory of implements which may be used as weapons.

Creasy does all three after telling Pita’s mother of his intentions.

OK. So now that we know we’re dealing with a revenge flick, let’s do a little bit of sorting to determine the exact species of revenge flick we have.

Are there unexpected or extreme methods of retribution?

Yes. Creasy employs duct tape in his first interrogation, using it to hold a perpetrator’s palms on the steering wheel of his car with each of his eight fingers jutting out almost like broken spokes. Creasy advises him sever a finger if he feels the perpetrator is not forthcoming and honest during the interrogation. Creasy then shows him a cigarette lighter which he says he will use to staunch the bleeding by cauterizing the wound.

Creasy ultimate cuts off two fingers and a slice of his ear before providing him with a cigarette, which he lights before shooting the man in the head. The car is then sent sailing off a cliff with the man’s body inside.

Creasy also uses a rocket launcher to blow up a car containing four corrupt cops. He then kidnaps a police officer who is something of a kingpin within the criminal element of the department. Creasy uses a plastic suppository to insert a small amount of plastic explosive in the man’s rectum. He programs his watch to send a page in 5 minutes that will cause the explosive to detonate, which is exactly what happens.

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Is there a moment in which the character who is seeking revenge must decide how far he or she is willing to go to accomplish this end?

Yes. When Creasy begins his campaign, he thinks Pita is dead, and he gives himself completely and totally over to revenge.

This is demonstrated quite compelling as Creasy prepares to use a shoulder-mounted rocket-launcher, and an older man speaks to him in Spanish, telling Creasy that the church teaches to forgive.

“Forgiveness is between them and God. It’s my job to arrange the meeting,” Creasy says.

Up until the movie’s climax, the closest Creasy comes to showing mercy is after he discovers that Pita’s father—played by Marc Anthony—was aware of the plan to kidnap her. Creasy gives him a gun, allowing him to shoot himself.

However, when Creasy finally captures the significant other of the man atop the kidnapping ring, he founds out that Pita is still alive. He then agrees to trade himself in exchange for her, a transaction made more palatable by the fact Creasy is already fatally wounded. He dies while being driven away after the exchange.

Creasy’s ultimate kill tally: 13.

Signature quote

“A man can be an artist. In anything, food whatever. It depends on how good he is at it. Creasy’s art is death. He’s about to paint his masterpiece.”

Rayburn, a former military associate of Creasy, played by Christopher Walken