10 Downloadable Unproduced Superhero Screenplays

The curtains are closing on blockbuster season. Superman and Fantastic Four: First Steps have come and gone, and as they vanish in the rearview, we face the longest gap in superhero films since Covid froze the industry. With over a year until Spider-Man: Brand New Day hits theaters – and whispers of a delay already circulating – those of us who reject the notion of superhero fatigue will be starved for something to sink our teeth into.

Though often seen as a modern obsession, or one already past its peak, superhero films have been decades in the making. Since the ’80s, countless attempts to bring individual heroes or sprawling cinematic universes to life have stumbled, ultimately paving the way for the MCU’s eventual triumph.

I’ve compiled 10 unproduced superhero screenplays for your reading pleasure. Some good, some middling, some downright weird. Even if you’re just browsing, the bombastic title pages alone are worth a look – some feel like picking up your favorite hero’s comic after finishing homework on a school night. Can’t get enough? Support your local comic shop. Who knows, ink and paper might inspire your own superpowered epic.

Superman: Flyby (2003) – J.J Abrams 

Before writing Lost, Cloverfield, and soft reboots of both Star Trek and Star Wars, J.J. Abrams nearly wove his signature mystery boxes into the first Superman film since 1987’s The Quest for Peace. Imagine how many lens flares he could use as Superman orbits the Earth. 

Abrams’ take is… inconsistent. It pulls from Silver Age tropes of prophecy, royal lineage, and cosmic destiny, yet reimagines them so drastically it feels more Elseworld than canon. Tonally, it’s uneven – key moments in Clark/Kal-El’s formative years are treated like slapstick rather than instances of important character growth. Major changes include a thriving unexploded planet Krypton, Kal-El instead being sent to Earth to fulfill a vague prophecy, a trip to a Kryptonian afterlife, Lex Luthor as an alien CIA agent, and a ninja cousin as the main villain. Yes, really. Also, Krypton somehow gets our terrestrial TV broadcasts.

At the time, critics and early internet forums called the screenplay bloated, uneven, and a poor adaptation of decades of great source material. WB clearly tried to shoehorn in the kung-fu mania sparked by The Matrix. Legend has it Abrams answered the backlash with a follow-up draft that ‘fixed’ the mocked changes – but by then, it was too late.

The script’s reported budget of over $200 million alarmed Warner Bros. executives. Coupled with valid concerns over its story and a rushed third act, cramming Superman’s death, resurrection, and final battle into rapid succession, producers ultimately opted for what became Bryan Singer’s Superman Returns. In hindsight, it’s a fascinating glimpse at a more mythic take on the Man of Tomorrow – and one that nearly saw the light of day. 

Doctor Strange (1990) – Alex Cox

English scribe Cox teamed with Marvel legend Stan Lee on what appears to be a spec script – write first, maybe sell later. Cox’s signature style from Repo Man and Sid & Nancy is here in full force: camp, surreal humor, and pulp action. His Sorcerer Supreme embraces the wilder corners of the canon – astral projection, demon invasions, ritual sorcery – yet with a tongue-in-cheek flair far removed from the version we know today.

I love how unapologetic the script is; opening with Merlin passing the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme at a 6th-century Stonehenge – just so you know exactly what kind of nonsense you’re in for. Drawing on early Ditko works (as the title page confirms), Cox fuses classic visual roots with a 90s twist. Wong remains the dated, subservient manservant, but Mordo runs an empire that’s turned Harlem into a skyscraper-packed business hub. When we meet Strange, he’s recounting his classic origin story – to Oprah.

The story’s central conflict pits Dormammu and his henchman Mordo against Strange, with plans to trigger a cataclysmic Earth invasion via portals on Easter Island. Set in the (then) near-future of 1999, Strange is a media-savvy New Yorker portrayed more as a skeptical occult authority than a fresh hero. Mordo is ‘Byron,’ not Baron, in one of the few moments Cox seems almost sheepish about the campy roots.

Though the script garnered some interest – Regency Pictures nearly moved forward – the project died after parent company Warner Bros. entered a merchandising dispute with Marvel, ultimately sinking production. Strange wouldn’t reach the silver screen until Marvel Studios’ Doctor Strange in 2016, 26 years later.

Superman Lives (1997) – Kevin Smith 

Unlike most on this list, Smith’s Superman Lives was ready for liftoff – Tim Burton returning to direct a DC project, Nicolas Cage starring, and $30 million already sunk into costumes and sets. Then Warner Bros. killed it in 1998. The story, explored in the excellent documentary The Death of Superman Lives, remains one of Hollywood’s most infamous lost projects: a collision of visionary talent, eccentric producer whims, and runaway budgets. But how did we get here?

Smith had made his name with Clerks (1994), cementing his rep as a witty, dialogue-heavy, low-budget auteur. Follow-ups Mallrats (1995) and Chasing Amy (1997) put him on Warner Bros.’ radar, where execs saw the unabashed DC fan as the man to modernize Superman for the turn of the century. It was a mismatch from the start. Producer Jon Peters wasn’t about to grant free rein, arriving with a long list of eccentric demands – most famously, no flying and a mandatory giant-spider fight.

Like Abrams’ later version, Smith couldn’t resist adapting The Death of Superman, arguably the ’90s’ most significant comic arc. His script has Brainiac, an alien cyber-organism, teaming with Lex Luthor; the two ultimately fuse into “Lexiac” to destroy the Last Son of Krypton. Stranger than the giant spider is the black Kryptonian exoskeleton used to prop up Superman’s powerless, resurrected body for the final battle.

Burton rejected Smith’s approach, pushing for a more stylized, gothic, alien fairy-tale vision in line with his Batman films. He reportedly admitted he’d never read comics and felt no connection to Smith’s reverent bid for accuracy.

One detail I’ve found no mention of online: page one nods to Clerks, with Dan-Te and Ran-Dal mirroring Dante Hicks and Randal Graves. We nearly lived in a world where Superman might’ve crossed paths with Jay and Silent Bob. So far, the real supervillain here seems to be Warner Bros.

Amazing Spider-Man (2002) – David Koepp 

First impressions matter – so I can’t help wondering if the misspelling of ‘screenplay’ on the title page helped doom this sequel to Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man.

The early 2000s were peak Spidey-mania: issue #500 hit in 2003, Ultimate Spider-Man was at its height, and the 2002 big-screen debut had smashed records. A sequel to the Tobey Maguire-led hit was inevitable, as was re-hiring Jurassic Park and Mission: Impossible scribe David Koepp, who co-wrote the first with Sam Raimi.

Koepp’s sequel hits many of the same beats as 2004’s Spider-Man 2, but tackles them very differently. Peter still loses his powers, though this has a scientific explanation and the entire arc feels weaker, crammed in alongside extra plotlines. The biggest change is the addition of the Stacys – Gwen as MJ’s opposite in a love triangle, and Captain Stacy, whose death deeply impacts the web-head. Other additions include Eddie Brock’s introduction and some of the funniest J. Jonah Jameson moments ever put to paper.

While I appreciate the commitment to early-to-mid-’60s comic style, this version is likely weaker than the one we got. This Doc Ock is cartoonishly evil – no Rosie, no redemption – just pure antagonism. Sometimes it’s nice when the movies elevate the characters, as we saw with Alfred Molina’s take on Otto. 

Still, it’s worth a read just to picture an alternate reality where Harry Osborn becomes the Green Goblin, likely poised to be Spider-Man 3’s main villain. The annotations in the excerpt even lift lines from the first film – “I swear on my father’s grave, Spider-Man will pay.”

Justice League Mortal (2007) – George Miller / Kieran and Michele Mulroney

I’m hardly the first to note Miller’s bizarre filmography. Telling people the Mad Max creator also wrote Happy Feet and Babe: Pig in the City is always a treat. Miller reportedly hired Kieran and Michele Mulroney (Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows) and nearly launched a cinematic universe before the MCU’s first film.

This is no origin story – the screenplay features established individual heroes forming the Justice League coalition in response to an extraterrestrial threat. The plot borrows from the comics Tower of Babel and OMAC Project, both centering on Batman’s contingency plans when the League is turned against humanity.

The Mulroneys take some bold swings, introducing Wally West as Barry Allen’s Flash successor and skipping cosmic heavyweights like Darkseid or Despero for a more grounded threat. Businessman Maxwell Lord serves as the main villain, using nanobots to strip powers and turn the heroes against one another.

While some of the plot feels down the middle, and the dialogue feels more at home in a speech bubble than from an actor’s mouth, I feel that the action is a particularly strong suit of this draft – tapping into the comic-booky goodness you expect from superhero fare. Highlights include nanobots fusing to the Flash’s spine, making him vibrate so fast he phases into the planet’s core.

Despite the alleged darker tone, the screenplay allows characters the opportunity to show off their heroism. By the time the League prepare to take on Starro in the final scene, I’m feeling uplifted.

The film stalled for several reasons: the ’08 financial crisis, the ’07–’08 writers’ strike, the success of the grittier Batman Begins, and a budget soaring past $220 million. Though cameras never rolled, pre-production was far along, with costume and makeup tests completed. Later DCEU films like Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice and Justice League borrowed from Mortal’s tactical, armored aesthetic.

The Amazing Spider-Man (1993) – James Cameron 

If the Koepp Spider-Man felt a little too pedestrian for you, then this might be more your speed. Cameron’s take on Spidey is the stuff of legend – second only to Superman Lives in notoriety. Brilliant as he is, Cameron mangles the entire story. I’m not recommending it for quality, but for sheer incredulity. Next time your work isn’t your best, remember – even geniuses have off days.

Cameron had a hand in various drafts of Spider-man films across the 90s, some of which were… unusual takes on your friendly neighborhood wall crawler. We know he revised a Barry Cohen and Ted Newson script with Doc Ock as the villain, but his own undated ‘scriptment’ (longer than a treatment but not as polished as a script) features Sandman and Electro, and may have been a page-one rewrite.

I’ll cut to the chase – this isn’t your grandpa’s Spider-Man. It’s a weirdly R-rated version… that’s what the masses want, right? The pages of this hallowed retelling are the only times I’ve ever heard the webslinger call anyone ‘motherf*cker’ OR have public sex atop the Brooklyn Bridge as part of a strange mating ritual. I’m not kidding. 

The script is full of needless, uninspired tweaks to canon. Electro’s (admittedly thin) origin is discarded, replaced with a Trump-esque capitalist named Strand – seen countless times before and since. Sandman gets renamed Boyd. Thrilling stuff.

Regardless of the quality, we know that Koepp leaned heavily on Cameron’s scriptment when developing the Raimi version; this is the origin of the organic web shooters, for instance. Weirdness prevails. 

The Silver Surfer (2000) – Richard Jeffries / Andrew Kevin Walker 

The Silver Surfer hit peak popularity in the ’90s, with a rumored Tarantino script rejected by Marvel – bet that stings in retrospect. Jeffries penned a screenplay in ’97, later revised, most notably by Walker in 2000, fresh off the back of Se7en and Sleepy Hollow.

The story follows Norrin Radd, who submits to Galactus to save his family, spending a million years in anguished servitude. Attempting suicide, he plunges into Earth’s molten core, only to awaken in modern day as Galactus looms to devour the planet. He bonds with an Earth woman named Helen, while Mephisto – yes, Marvel’s literal Devil – tries to claim his soul. Honestly, his inclusion feels pretty lame. 

This is an intriguing take on the Surfer, though it’s verbose and too reliant on dialogue. Some action sequences shine, like a Grand Canyon battle between the Surfer and Galactus’ current herald, Gotterdammerung – an apparently original creation. There’s also a striking scene where Galactus’ World-Ship devours Mars on its way to Earth, which is detectable and completely terrifying for Earthlings.

It’s a visual feast, and I could see it earning 2001: A Space Odyssey–level cult status for its mind-bending effects. Kudos to the writers for crediting Jack Kirby – the often-overlooked artist behind much of early Marvel.

Ultimately, this project fell apart, probably due to its cosmic-sized budget – and maybe that’s for the best, since the script feels rushed and hollow without the Fantastic Four or any Earth-based heroes to anchor it. Still, I’d bet it would’ve been cooler than the 2000s F4 films, and a hell of a lot better than Fant4stic.

Plastic Man (1995) – The Wachowskis 

Before The Matrix made them household names, the Wachowskis were already exploring superpowers and impossible physics with their Plastic Man adaptation. Using a lesser-known hero like DC’s stretchy icon (who predates Mr. Fantastic by twenty years!) allowed them to take liberties with the character without enraging too many fans.

This reimagines chemically altered criminal Eel O’Brian (yes, Eel) as Daniel O’Brien – an environmentalist turned superhero after experiments by Argon, a villainous industrialist. Not entirely original, but at least it avoids the ‘falling into chemicals’ trope that the comic version shares with the Joker. The story leans into social satire and absurdist comedy, including a truly bizarre scene where Plastic Man discovers his waste is non-biodegradable – he literally urinates plastic.

Once superpowered, O’Brien moves from chasing litterers to taking down corporations polluting America. The story is weird, tonally inconsistent, and frankly drags in the second half. It’s also lighter on action and fun set pieces than you might expect.

The project never moved forward, perhaps partly due to ’94’s The Mask and its success. In the late ’00s, the Wachowskis were reportedly interested in reviving Plastic Man, with a rumored December 2009 release. Talks of reuniting with the directors circulated before the project quietly faded back into obscurity.

Namor The Sub-Mariner (2004) – David Self 

While Marvel’s first mutant eventually appeared in 2022’s Wakanda Forever, earlier attempts had sought to bring The Avenging Son to the big screen. In 2004, Kevin Feige – already masterminding Marvel productions – said the Self-penned script was ready, concept art was in progress, and rumors hinted that Chris Columbus might direct.

Self was an intriguing choice, having written Road to Perdition and an uncredited polish of The Bourne Identity (both 2002). His screenplay, like many, diverges sharply from the version we know. Namor is reimagined as an orphan raised on a U.S. military base in Japan, who, during his 20s, undergoes a transformative deep-sea rescue before being taken to Atlantis and discovering his heritage.

Namor’s brief romance with Jane, an oceanographer, gives way to a clash with Duke Kraang, a (rather pretentious) Atlantean warlord who hijacks a submarine and weaponizes its sonar to slaughter sea life in a coup attempt. Namor learns he’s the emperor’s grandson and leads Atlantis’s defense in a massive underwater battle with shark legions, squid riders, and raging maelstroms, ultimately defeating Kraang.

The world-building and scope of Atlantis are impressive, but the character work – especially the ‘romance’ with Jane – is paper-thin. After a fun cold open, Act 1 is mostly dialogue between characters we barely care about, eating up nearly half the script before the expected action, royal intrigue, and deep-sea battles appear. Even then, Kraang adores the sound of his own voice and interrupts the story a little too often. 

I get why a literal ‘fish out of water’ approach might appeal to casual audiences, but it’s not the version fans crave. They want the brooding King of Atlantis waging war on the Fantastic Four and the surface world. The script saw rewrites as directors came and went, but a massive budget and Marvel’s pivot toward fully owned IPs (Namor is shared with Universal) ultimately shelved it.

Batman (1983) – Tom Mankiewicz

Years before Burton directed Sam Hamm and Warren Skaaren’s Batman (1989), Warner Bros. already aspired to bring a darker, more cinematic Caped Crusader to the screen, still shaking off his campy ’60s image. They hired Tom Mankiewicz, then best known for polishing several ’70s James Bond scripts and Superman: The Movie.

His brief was to craft a serious, big-budget Batman origin appealing to adults yet accessible to younger viewers. That’s exactly what he did – mixing Batman with James Bond, playing to his strengths, and delivering a story with globe-trotting set pieces and an operatic villain plot.

You may notice similarities to the Burton film – because WB borrowed several elements from this script, including Joker’s parade, the Waynes’ murder, linking Joe Chill to the Joker, and a perceptive love interest in Silver St. Cloud. Key differences include introducing Dick Grayson, the original Robin, whose acrobat parents are killed by the Joker during a routine.

There’s also a bizarre paternity case against Bruce Wayne by Miss Gotham. His chauvinism earns the ire of “Angry Feminists,” whom he greets with a smarmy chuckle and pats himself on the back. The ’80s were weird like that.

Overall, the screenplay feels unpolished, with rapid cuts, time jumps, long periods where Bruce is sidelined, and new plot lines introduced in the third act. WB opted for a darker approach, repurposing some elements for the nightmarish Burton Gotham we eventually saw.

Conclusion

So, there’s ten downloadable unproduced superhero screenplays. Put on your spandex and go make a difference. Some were unfairly forgotten; others probably deserve to stay buried. I’ve found so many gems in my research I could easily do a part two – if you enjoyed this, let us know on Instagram @kinolimefilms and I’ll do the classic superhero move… cash in on a sequel.