Super/Man
What is a hero? wonders Christopher Reeve in the last scene of “Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story.”
Turns out the stricken actor-turned-activist is not the only hero in this powerful, tear-jerking documentary directed by Ian Bonhote and Peter Ettedgui.
His children Matthew, Alexander and Will, all now grown, and especially his late wife Dana carry the weight of establishing Reeve's legacy long after the accident that put him in a wheelchair and on a ventilator for the last decade of his life.
Then there are the friends, co-stars like Jeff Daniels, Susan Sarandon and Glenn Close, whose memories provide some of the funniest and most touching chapters of the fable of the man who could fly.
Robin Williams, Reeve's best friend since they were roommates at New York's prestigious Julliard School, makes frequent appearances in the archival footage, becoming both brother and guardian angel during Reeves' fight to recover from paralysis.
Robin and Chris were parts of each other, muses Glenn Close. If Chris were still here, Robin would be, too, she believes.
In a way, Christopher Reeve isn't even the star of the show.
Fate is.
Heaven help men who never got enough love from their fathers.
In the case of Donald Trump or Elon Musk, heaven help us all.
But for young Chris Reeve, the man casting the long shadow was poet and professor F.D. Reeve, one of those macho intellectuals who might spend a day cutting down a tree, catching a dinner's worth of trout, playing three sets of tennis and then translating some great work of Russian literature for dessert.
The kind of father no son – no matter how smart, competitive, tall (six-foot-four), or movie-star handsome – could ever hope to please.
Chris' father and mother divorced early, each remarrying again, twice. They produced half-siblings galore and several families' worth of dysfunction.
In his youth, Chris began acting in school productions, discovering a path to happiness – moments of respite, at least – by pretending to be other people.
After graduating from Cornell and Julliard, he hit the streets in New York, joining the ranks of would-be actors looking for a break.
Jeff Daniels was on the same path. He recalls being in an off-off-Broadway production with Reeve, when Chris told him he would miss a couple of performances to fly to London for a movie audition.
Another member of the cast, William Hurt, adamantly urged Chris not to go, not to sell out.
Chris went. When he returned to the theater 48 hours later, he told the others he had gotten the part.
Superman.
For a documentary, “Super/Man” is a striking work of visionary visual art.
Superman's origins in DC Comics provide elements of the production design, as do clips from the first “Superman” movie, still magical almost a half-century after its 1978 release.
Despite industry naysayers predicting a colossal flop at the time, director Richard Donner knew it would work, if …
The audience had to believe Superman could fly.
Even as Donner violates the magician's creed, showing the cranes, apparatus, skyscraper sets, and other tricks to produce the illusion in those pre-CG and green-screen dark ages, the flying sequences still take your breath away.
Reeve did his part to add to the magic. He spent arduous months lifting weights, running miles and bouncing on trampolines to transform what he calls his “string bean” physique into the man of steel.
It's easy to forget now that “Superman” – along with “Popeye” starring Robin Williams – ushered us into the modern age where comic book characters rule movie screens. Ironically, Reeve was less the instigator than the recipient of this sea change.
Although “Super/Man” jumps around in time, Reeve spends half the film in his chair, as immobilized now as he once was in constant motion. His ventilator sets the cadence of the words coming out of his voice. His face wears a frozen mask – is it a smile or a look of terror? Only his eyes offer a path to the vibrant soul still burning inside.
As a young man in his prime, Reeve had been fiercely competitive, a skier, a sailor. With his kids he was always pushing. When he jokes with his wife Dana that at least he's not like his overbearing father, she's not so sure.
He remained F.D.'s son to the end. The discipline, the will power driven into him by his father certainly figured into his determination to beat the cards in the last hand he was dealt. He may not have achieved the goal, but the broken man helplessly vulnerable in his wheelchair ultimately proves infinitely stronger than the caped fantasy ever was.
The great heights he had soared were the distance he fell. No spoiler alert here. We all know how this story ends.
For all the larger-than-life close-ups in Christopher Reeve's super film career, perhaps the most telling images in “Super/Man” were shot in the cozy Reeve home. The kids are in the foreground, horsing around, doing what kids do. Chris in his chair is in the back of the shot, hardly the star of the show.
He's more a comforting presence, like the family Lab.
You can see that he's smiling.
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