The briny depths of the DC Universe have always been a realm of swirling currents—heroic highs crashing against villainous lows, with the occasional trident thrust to keep the chaos at bay. But on a sun-drenched afternoon in December 2025, as the holiday hush settled over Los Angeles like a gentle swell, Jason Momoa surfaced with words that sent ripples across the fandom’s fragile flotilla. In a sprawling sit-down with Esquire magazine, the 46-year-old Hawaiian powerhouse—still dripping with the charisma that turned a scaly anti-hero into a billion-dollar icon—opened up about the persistent whispers of his return to the Snyderverse as Aquaman. “Look, the rumors? They’re like those old shipwrecks down in the Marianas—fascinating to dive into, but mostly just rust and regret,” Momoa said, his laugh booming like a conch shell in a gale. “I’ve loved being Arthur Curry, fighting for the oceans and all that aloha spirit. But the Snyder era? It’s a chapter that’s closed tighter than a clam at low tide. If folks are still hoping for me to swim back… well, that’s sweet, but it’s not the current.” His candor, delivered over a spread of poke bowls and non-alcoholic brews at a Venice Beach eatery, cut through the speculation like a golden trident: no grand reunion, no trident-forged encore. Instead, Momoa painted a picture of closure laced with gratitude, reflection, and a forward gaze toward DC’s choppy new waters under James Gunn’s steady helm. As the interview excerpt hit the web—racking up 3.2 million views on Esquire‘s site by evening—it reignited debates that have ebbed and flowed since Zack Snyder’s brooding opus faded from the spotlight. Is Aquaman’s Atlantean armor destined for the deep, or could Momoa’s words be the subtlest of surface teases?

To understand the tidal pull of these rumors, one must plunge into the frothy history of Momoa’s tenure as the King of Atlantis—a role that transformed him from Game of Thrones‘ brooding Khal Drogo into a global phenomenon, all rippling abs and righteous rage. It began in 2016’s Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, where Snyder introduced Arthur Curry as a brooding beach bum, his tattooed torso and trident a stark counterpoint to Ben Affleck’s gravelly Batman and Henry Cavill’s god-among-men Superman. Momoa, then 37 and fresh off Stargate: Origins, brought a raw, indigenous fire to the character: half-Hawaiian heritage infusing Aquaman with a warrior’s pride and an environmentalist’s fury. “Zack saw me as this wild ocean force—untamed, unstoppable,” Momoa recalled in the Esquire chat, his eyes distant like a horizon storm. “He wanted Aquaman to be the guy who doesn’t bow to capes or crowns, just rides the waves of his own code.” That vision crystallized in 2017’s Justice League, where Momoa’s Aquaman—beer-swilling, axe-wielding, and quipping “My man!” to Flash’s frantic energy—stole scenes amid the film’s tonal tempests. Despite the theatrical cut’s critical drubbing (a Joss Whedon patchwork that grossed $657 million but left fans frothing), Snyder’s 2021 director’s cut restored the ensemble’s mythic heft, with Momoa’s extended underwater odyssey—a beer-fueled brawl in a submersible bar—cementing his status as the DCEU’s breakout brute.

The character’s solo splash came in 2018’s Aquaman, a $200 million maelstrom directed by James Wan that dove headfirst into Atlantean lore: sprawling kingdoms of coral citadels, trench-dwelling horrors, and a brotherly betrayal pitting Arthur against his half-brother Orm (Patrick Wilson). Momoa, co-writing beats with Wan, infused the script with Hawaiian mythology—ancient tattoos as living maps, the sea as a sacred ‘āina (land/sea mother)—turning a campy comic relic into a $1.15 billion juggernaut, the highest-grossing DCEU entry. “It was my chance to flip the script on the ‘fish guy’ jokes,” Momoa reflected, leaning back in the interview, his massive frame dwarfing the café chair. “Kids in the Pacific—Samoa, Hawaii—saw themselves in Arthur, a brown boy ruling the blue. That meant everything.” Sequels followed: Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021) expanded his arc with a poignant post-credits tease of Mera’s (Amber Heard) pregnancy, while Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom (2023) plunged into fatherhood and fraternal redemption, grossing $434 million amid production woes and Heard’s tabloid tempests. Momoa’s commitment shone through: he trained in breath-holds for underwater shoots, advocated for Polynesian consultants, and even tattooed a traditional manta ray in homage to the role. By 2025, with Dune: Prophecy and Minecraft on his slate, Aquaman had evolved from sidekick to sovereign—a tattooed titan whose trident thrust resonated from comic cons to conservation rallies.

Yet the Snyderverse’s siren call persists, a ghostly undertow pulling at fans’ hearts like the Bermuda Triangle. Snyder’s DCEU, launched with 2013’s Man of Steel ($668 million), envisioned a pantheon of flawed gods: Superman as Christ-figure, Batman as fallen angel, Wonder Woman as warrior priestess. Aquaman fit as the prodigal son—exiled from Atlantis, wrestling with hybrid heritage amid a world that mocks his “fishy” throne. The 2017 Justice League schism—Snyder’s exit due to family tragedy, Whedon’s comedic cleanse—fractured the foundation, birthing the #RestoreTheSnyderVerse movement: 4 million petition signatures, HBO Max’s $70 million Snyder Cut gamble, and endless “what if” watercooler wars. Momoa, ever the mediator, championed the cause: in 2020, he posted Instagram pleas for the cut, dubbing it “Zack’s vision—dark, epic, ours.” The 2021 release, a 242-minute opus, vindicated him: Momoa’s extended scenes—brooding on a lighthouse, forging the Mother Box in volcanic fury—earned raves, with his “I came for my kid… and my kid’s mom” line a gut-punch of paternal fire. “Zack gave Aquaman soul,” Momoa told Esquire, tracing a scar from a prop trident mishap. “He saw the pain under the power—the orphan king, raging against the tide. That world’s magic lingers, like salt on skin after a dive.”

The rumors of return? They’ve bubbled like geothermal vents since DC’s 2022 reboot under Gunn and Peter Safran. Whispers peaked in mid-2025: a Cosmic Book News scoop claimed Saudi investors eyeing Warner Bros. would resurrect the Snyderverse, with Momoa headlining an Aquaman-led Justice League: Apokolips War adaptation. Fan forums frothed—r/SnyderCut threads tallying 2 million “Bring Back Arthur” upvotes—fueled by Momoa’s coy 2024 Variety quip: “Aquaman’s got unfinished business in those old waters. If the stars align…” But Gunn’s “Chapter One: Gods and Monsters” slate—Superman (2025) sans Cavill, The Brave and the Bold Batman reboot—signaled a hard reset. Momoa’s pivot to Lobo, the intergalactic bounty hunter with a hook hand and hellbent humor, was confirmed in October 2025: “Lobo’s my wild card—cigar-chomping chaos, no crown required.” Yet Snyder loyalists clung: a November 2025 Snyder X post—a moody Aquaman silhouette—sparked “He’s teasing!” frenzy. Momoa addressed it head-on in Esquire: “The Snyderverse rumors? Flattering, like old flames texting at 2 a.m. Zack’s a brother—his cut was lightning in a bottle. But DC’s sailing new seas now. Gunn’s got the map; I’m stoked to crew. Aquaman in that world? It’s a beautiful ‘what if,’ but reality’s got its own riptide.”

Momoa’s reflections ripple with bittersweet depth, a man at the crossroads of closure and reinvention. At 46, he’s no longer the 30-something surfer crashing Snyder’s set; fatherhood to two kids with Lisa Bonet (divorced amicably in 2022) and a budding romance with Adria Arjona have tempered his tidal energy. “Aquaman taught me to protect what’s mine—the oceans, the ‘ohana,” he shared, gesturing to a shark-tooth necklace from his Hawaiian roots. “Snyder unlocked that—made Arthur more than muscles, a guardian with ghosts.” The role’s legacy? Oceanic. It grossed $1.5 billion across films, inspired a wave of Polynesian-led projects (Moana 2‘s 2024 splash), and turned Momoa into an eco-warrior: his 2025 Mananalu water brand donates millions to reef restoration, while Aquaman‘s CGI kingdoms spotlighted climate threats to Pacific islands. Rumors of return, he admits, sting with nostalgia: “Fans yelling ‘One more dive!’ at cons? Heart-melting. But I’ve said my piece—Arthur’s arc ends strong, trident high.” Gunn’s overtures helped: early 2025 talks for Lobo in Superman: Legacy sequels, where the Czarnian anti-hero clashes with Kryptonians in cosmic comedy. “James gets it—Aquaman’s spirit lives in Lobo’s lunacy. No hard feelings, just forward fins.”

The fandom’s froth persists, a perfect storm of Snyder stans and Aquaman acolytes. r/DC_Cinematic forums dissect Momoa’s words like forensic evidence: “He’s leaving the door cracked—Saudi buyout could flip it!” one thread posits, citing Warner’s $70 billion PIF flirtation. TikToks remix his Esquire clip with Justice League slow-mo, captions pleading “Bring Back the King!” Yet Momoa tempers the tide: in a follow-up Instagram Reel—him spearfishing off Oahu—he quipped, “Rumors are like sharks—exciting till they bite. Mahalo for the love, but Aquaman’s surfing new waves.” Snyder, from his photography retreats, offered olive-branch ambiguity: a December 2025 Vero post of Momoa mid-dive, captioned “The depths call.” Fans decode it as wink or wave-off, petitions surging to 1.5 million for an “Elseworlds” Aquaman solo.

As 2025 ebbs toward awards chatter—Momoa’s Dune: Messiah buzz, Gunn’s DCU dawn—the Aquaman enigma endures. Momoa’s musings aren’t dismissal; they’re dirge and dawn: gratitude for Snyder’s stormy seas, excitement for Gunn’s galactic gambit. In a multiverse of maybes, his Snyderverse return remains a siren’s song—beautiful, beckoning, but bound for the briny deep. The ocean’s vast, after all; kings come and go, but legends linger like foam on the shore. Jason Momoa? He’s just getting his fins wet.