Named after the small Midwestern town where Superman grew up, the series Smallville follows Clark Kent on his journey toward becoming the greatest superhero in the world. Seeking to create a grounded and realistic show, the producers hit upon a simple rule: Clark Kent would never put on a costume. Nor would he fly. The paradox this created – a show starring Superman who never acts like Superman – would simply be glossed over.

To say that this approach leads to problems is something of an understatement. Even a good show would have trouble with it. And Smallville is not a good show.

To begin with, the characterization is a mess. From the first episode, Clark Kent is not once presented as a heroic or likable lead. Instead he’s an angsty jerk who takes his friends for granted and dithers, Hamlet-like, before he can bring himself to save anybody. Lex Luther, Clark’s friend and eventual bitter enemy, is presented at the outset as an interesting, relatable man whose long descent into villainy has as much to do with Clark’s persistent selfishness as with any kind of adaptational inevitability. Smallville’s explanation for why Lex Luther hates Superman is so convincing that it’s easy to follow his example.

The poor writing doesn’t stop there. Smallville begins as a romantic soap opera masquerading as a superhero show, an approach that works until the creators get ambitious. Clark’s world rapidly expands into comic book scenarios on which the show has neither the means nor the interest to follow through. Supervillains shuffle amid the romantic drama, posing for the camera before being quickly packed off to limbo. Storylines are not resolved so much as buried alive, and those left uncovered often collapse under the weight of their own contrivance. Amid all of this, supporting characters begin to don costumes of various kinds. Clark, mindful of the show’s number one rule, sticks to a jacket. By the time the eighth season begins, all pretense of a grounded, realistic show has been thrown out the window. By the 10th and final season, sanity has joined it.

Laying aside the obvious question of how the show lasted 10 years, it’s worth noting that the final season is where the Smallville completely fractures under its own premise. The show that won’t let Clark dress or act like Superman has him join the Justice League, marry Lois Lane, and meet all manner of characters who shouldn’t yet exist. When Supergirl and Superboy are introduced before Superman has so much as tried on a cape, it’s the last straw. By the time Clark finally dons the famous costume, he’s the only person in the cast who hasn’t yet worn one. Those viewers still watching are too worn out to care.

Smallville is not entirely without merit. The actors are pretty, and all of them remember their lines. The presentation is almost professional. To the best of my knowledge, the show has yet to actually kill anyone. If you’re looking for a 10-season-long exercise in delayed gratification, a Superman story written by and for people who don’t like Superman, then this is absolutely the show for you.