Reeve film shows spirit of hope, courage
- Brett Hiner: A Work in Progress
- October 18, 2024
- 820
My memory of seeing the original “Superman” film at the movie theater was filled with all the bright-eyed wonder and imagination of childhood.
There was no critical analysis of film technique or discussions on the merits of plot and cinematography; just a 7-year-old kid, staring bright-eyed as Superman flies in and up to save a falling Lois Lane as she lets go of the seatbelt of the rooftop, crashed helicopter to which she was clinging. Naturally, Superman catches her and the helicopter. He delivers them safely back to the roof of the “Daily Planet,” after which Lois asks, “Who are you?” His simple response? “A friend.”
And then he is off, faster than a … well, you know the rest.
Coming home that evening, I cinched a pink towel (we did not have any red) around my neck in preparation for my own flight. As a 7-year-old, I was wise enough to know that I could not actually fly, but that did not prevent me from climbing to the lowest branch of the maple tree in our front yard, filled with all the bravery of the man in blue, pushing my arms straight out and taking an inevitable leap of faith. I also landed safely, believing I was as indestructible as the Man of Steel.
For a generation of filmgoers, young and old alike, that is exactly what Christopher Reeve’s portrayal of Superman did: made us all believers.
It is likely that belief that made his 1995 horseback riding accident, leading to his quadriplegia, so visceral for so many: how could that happen to Superman?
Like so many of his fans, I followed Reeve’s story in the days, months and years after his accident, reading his wonderful 1998 biography “Still Me” and then feeling the weight of his loss to heart failure in 2004. Equally tragic was the death of his wife, Dana, to lung cancer 17 months later. For outside onlookers, their familial universe seemed to be fated in tragedy. From the inside, however, Christopher and Dana’s deeply rooted love for one another, their children and the world as a whole served as a living inspiration for anyone dealing with obstacles, regardless of the size.
It is this compassion that makes the recently released “Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story” a must-see documentary for anyone who questions the good that can be found in all those around us.
Rooted in interviews with his three children, the beauty of the film comes in its honesty; a no-holds-barred look at a man who was all too aware of his failings as a partner and a dad, characteristics Reeve swore he would never embody because of his strained relationship with his own father.
His oldest son recounts the many moments Reeve was absent, and the weight it left his mother, Gae Exton — a British modeling agent who Reeve met on the set of “Superman” — to carry. Yet any resentment that Exton, or their two children, Matthew and Alexandra, may have had, has clearly been forgiven, thankfully, long before Reeve’s death.
In one stirring moment in the film, Reeve, at this point immobile in his wheelchair, admits that it took, “breaking my neck to finally grow truly close to my kids.”
Yet, the emotional honesty in the film and the tears they evoke on the part of the audience are never contrived. There is no suppression of his darkest hours post-accident, particularly his acknowledgment that “I had ruined my life and everyone else’s.” Had it not been for Dana telling him, “You’re still you, and I love you,” there is a good chance Reeve would have given up the fight for life in the hours after waking up from his accident.
A good portion of the film recounts many of the details Reeve shared in his 1998 biography, but here, the home movies, mostly taken by Dana who, “always had a camera in her hand,” let the audience in on the deeply personal struggles and the toll it took on the family.
But, the real revelation of the home movies focuses on Dana herself and her paralleled resiliency to that of her husband, all while mostly bearing the silent weight of caregiving and advocacy.
We discover she was the significant reason there was acceptance and forgiveness on the part of Exton and Michael and Alexandria. It was the blended family, with Dana and Christopher’s son, Will, that ultimately provided Reeve with his passioned desire to walk again. While it did not occur in his lifetime, their foundation continues to spearhead the efforts to help those with paralysis, many of whom are walking because of their efforts.
Finally, particularly poignant moments of the film relate to Reeve’s relationship with Juilliard roommate and actor, Robin Williams. He was the first non-family member to visit Reeve in the hospital, disguised as a Russian proctologist.
In the years following the accident, he was the first one Dana would call during particularly low moments in Christopher’s mental health journey. His eulogy at Reeve’s funeral is all the more powerful now, knowing Williams was suffering from his own mental health issues. Reeve’s death is what led actress Glenn Close to state that “I always felt that if Chris was still around, Robin would be, too. They meant that much to each other.”
Again, there are deeply emotional moments in the film, but all enveloped in the spirit of hope, courage and resiliency. In 1978, he made us believe a man could fly. Fifty years later he is making us believe and proving through his legacy that those physically afflicted will be able to walk.