REVIEW. SUPER/MAN: THE CHRISTOPHER REEVE STORY Explores the Meaning of "Hero."

"There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it.”

- George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman.

Some actors are forever defined by one iconic role: Henry Winkler will always be "The Fonz." Robin Williams, despite a distinguished, Oscar-winning film career, is still remembered affectionately as "Mork." Harrison Ford unforgettably made the Star Wars franchise his own with his wise-cracking portrayal of rogue smuggler-turned-rebel hero Han Solo. Ditto for Indiana Jones, but perhaps in a more nerdy archeologist-turns-adventurer way.

In the case of Christopher Reeve, it's hard not to hear his name without thinking, "Superman," but this new documentary, a loving tribute directed by Ian Bonhôte and Peter Ettedgui and produced by Reeve's three children: Matthew, Alexandra (with ex-partner Gae Exton), and Will (with wife Dana Morosini), uses the title to suggest his heroism was far different and infinitely more personal than the larger-than-life character he played so convincingly on screen.

Though he wasn't the first or last actor to bring the classic DC Comic Book hero to life, Reeve is, arguably, the one most associated with the character since his debut in Richard Donner's 1978 eponymous movie. At the time, the film's special effects, notably, the ability to make Reeve look like he really could fly, brought new dimension to sci-fi imagery and storytelling, as it played into Americans' fascination with cartoons.

Reeve, only twenty-six when he was plucked from theatrical obscurity to play the title character, came into the role with mixed feelings. An insightful story told by the actor Jeff Daniels, who knew Reeve in his off-Broadway salad days, recalled how another up-and-coming actor, William Hurt, warned Reeve not to "sell out" by taking a role that was so obviously meant for commercial success, and not necessarily artistic expression.

The spectre of Superman haunted Reeve, even though he would eventually make four, mostly forgettable, Superman movies. In truth, he really only needed to make one, as Donner's seminal film seemed sufficient to establish his status as an uber-celebrity, a dashing and handsome man whose physical presence (he stood a towering 6'4" and added 30 pounds of muscle preparing for the part), together with his cinematic persona, made him that rarest of creatures, a movie star.

The duality of the mantle that came with being a star and a superhero was clearly the kind of labeling that Reeve eschewed, as both connoted qualities that seemed at odds with Reeve's own personality and interests. Born in New York City in 1952, Reeve was the oldest of two sons from parents Franklin (a teacher, novelist and scholar) and Barbara (a journalist). When he was four, Reeve's parents divorced and his mother moved to Princeton, leaving him to assume a parental-like protection of his younger brother Benjamin. Reeve later wrote that his father's "love for his children always seemed tied to performance," and that he put pressure on himself to behave more maturely in order to gain his father's approval.

In one chilling anecdote, we hear Reeve describe the moment he called his father to tell him he'd won the title role in a new Superman movie. At first, his father was elated, only to quickly descend into a haughty displeasure when he learned it was not a part in George Bernard Shaw's classic play, Man and Superman, but a starring role in a big budget film about, you know, Superman.

Though the two reconciled after Reeve's horseback riding accident in 1995, the theme of father-son alienation runs through the documentary, especially as we watch how Reeve deliberately tried to avoid duplicating his father's behavior. adding a layer of contrast to Reeve's public image and private life.

In what might be the film's most evocative scene, his older son Matthew softly, emotionally explains that, while Reeve tried so hard not to be like his distant and demanding father, his unfailing enthusiasm for life and extensive list of accomplishments - from actor to equestrian, pilot to sailor - made his children feel inferior and unworthy. Reeve may not have been the detached perfectionist his father was, but his enthusiasm for life and drive for success, nonetheless, had a similar effect on his children. The film takes us right to the edge with these stories, then quickly moves on to something else.

In crafting a narrative about why Reeve is/was a particular type of super man, directors Bonhôte and Ettedgui make great use of family videos (Reeve was apparently obsessed with keeping a record of his family), interviews with family members, ex-lovers (Gae Exton is included in several extended sequences), and footage of Reeve at home, at the Oscars, and, most importantly, struggling after the freak horseback riding accident in 1995 that left him paralyzed from the neck down.

Unfortunately, though the movie hints at Reeve's inner struggles with self-confidence and self-esteem (mostly attributed to a childhood defined by a quest for paternal approval and unconditional love), Super/Man never really develops any of its notions about celebrity, fame, parental alienation or the journey toward self-acceptance. Instead, we see clips from the extensive home movies Reeve made for and about his family. The testimonials from family members, thespian co-stars and colleagues are alternately entertaining, insightful and touching, but they rarely delve beyond a passing remembrance, a glib assessment or a throwaway story.

Reeve's longtime partner (1978-1987), Gae Exton, the British model with whom he had two children, tries to explain his aversion to marriage by referencing the trauma he experienced after his parents' divorce. Yet, he did not seem to be reluctant to propose to Dana Morosini, whom he married shortly after ending his relationship to Exton. Other alleged partners, like the actress Jane Seymour, whom Reeve reportedly met and fell in love with on the set of the 1980 film, Somewhere in Time (while he was still involved with Exton), are not included in the documentary, leaving some gaps Reeve's personal story.

Too bad. There is likely a treasure trove of information available that could potentially probe more deeply into what made Reeve's tick, what angels and demons motivated him toward political activism and taking increasingly more interesting creative risks: after Superman, Reeve made a series of independent movies, often period pieces, that allowed him to disappear into less showy, sometimes supporting roles, expanding his range as an actor, but also allowing himself the luxury of professional growth and exploration.

The scope of these roles in the arc of Reeve's story is minimized here. Rather, Reeve's near-fatal accident in 1995 is used as the life-changing event that became the catalyst for his emergence as a "super hero" - redefining his notions about success and turning him into a champion for the physically disabled. Scenes of Reeve in various stages of rehab are difficult to watch, especially as they are juxtaposed against Reeve as Superman, as Victorian lover, as a robust, vibrant human.

Watching Reeve's transformation from desirable movie star to determined activist is compelling, if somewhat contrived and incomplete in terms of developing the more complex narrative that should examine his life, his work, his successes and challenges. He seemed to be battling multiple demons in coming to terms with who he was and what he wanted out of life.

The missing pieces here, in spite of some powerful scenes depicting Reeve's courage as he forged a new and productive life following the accident, are the movies, the roles that helped define his powerful place on the silver screen. In addition to Somewhere in Time, there are fleeting references to The Bostonians, The Remains of the Day and, another favorite of mine, Deathtrap, a clever whodunnit in which Reeve and Michael Caine play rival playwrights and closet lovers, a twist that reportedly left one movie goer bereft and screaming, "Superman, say it isn't so!" We needed a few more of these examples integrated into the film's major conceit: that Reeve was a super hero beyond the role that made him a star.

And then there is Robin Williams, who met Reeve at Julliard when both were students there, becoming a lifelong friend/brother/mentor. William maintains a quiet (if that's possible) presence throughout the entire film which is punctuated with stories about the two,woven through the non-linear exploration of Reeve's unconventional heroism. In one very funny and touching sequence, we hear the story of how Williams snuck into the hospital shortly after Reeve's horsebacking riding accident disguised as a Russian proctologist. Williams' face, hidden by a surgical mask, allowed him to pass through hospital security and into Reeve's room where he informed a helpless Reeve he was there to give him a rectal exam. Reeve immediately recognized Williams and smiled, his family recounting that this was the first laugh their father had had since his accident, and that only Williams could have elicited such a genuine, spontaneous chuckle.

In an interview late in the film with the actress Glenn Close (who worked with Williams in 1982's The World According to Garp and with Reeve in 1997's In The Gloaming, she remarked that she often wondered, had Reeve survived beyond the age of 52, he might have been able to prevent Williams' tragic suicide in 2014 after Williams was misdiagnosed with Parkinson's disease: the deep depression that ultimately led to his suicide was later determined to be the result of Lewy Body disease, which mimics Parkinson's but often causes profound depression in patients. Such observations, provocative, if unsubstantiated, play more into the nostalgia surrounding a much publicized friendship between two beloved entertainers than they do shine a light on the medical/physical struggles Reeve and Williams endured, or about the enduring bond that connected them for over thirty years.

When Williams' ends his eulogy at Reeve's memorial with a nod to Hamlet (and Reeve's own classical training), "Good night, Sweet Prince. And flights of angels take thee to thy rest," you can feel Williams' genuine affection and love for his friend, but inclusion of this clip seems designed more for show than for substance, as there is little detail to describe Williams and Reeve's lasting brotherhood other than the viewer's own conclusions and imagination about them, placed against intermittent snippets in the film.

I saw Super/Man in the theater September 25, 2024, on what would have been Reeve's 72nd birthday. Somehow, I can't imagine what he would be like as a 72-year-old because I can't picture him as anything but a handsome young man filled with energy and promise, that slyly intelligent gleam in his eyes and half-smile emerging slowly as he observes the world around him.

As wistful as Super/Man is in presenting Reeve and the unexpected challenges he endured, the movie isn't particularly revealing, nor is it innovative in its documentary format or in the development of its subject. Straight forward, sometimes moving, but not especially deep or informative, Super/Man is most successful re-introducing its audience to a familiar actor and super hero, and it did remind me of an earlier time in my life, one when I'd thought I'd found my heart's desire, only to realize it wasn't forever. Just for awhile. And, for years afterward, I began to reconsider how I wanted to live my life and what things mattered most, though I'm not convinced that finding - or losing - that desire makes one's life a tragedy. Hopefully, more enlightened.

There is a glimpse of that longing in Christopher Reeve's journey, a redefinition of what it means to be heroic, and how one very famous individual found it in unexpectedly humbling ways, a kind of modern day triumph over tragedy. Reeve's children have made a honest effort to learn more about their father: what drove him, what delighted him, what helped him thrive in the face of overwhelming adversity. If you are a fan of Christopher Reeve or his films, this is a documentary worth seeing, as much of the movie relies on audience recognition of Reeve and/or the accident that left him paralyzed. Since his death 20 years ago, younger generations may not be immediately drawn to Reeve or interested his story.

Well, maybe those who are still looking to find their heart's desire.

Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story is returning to theaters October 11. It is also streaming on MAX.

Coming soon: MJ's review of Francis Ford Coppola's latest opus: Megalopolis and an Op Ed on soap opera icon Drake Hogestyn (aka John Black). The fall movie season is off and running, so more movies on the way.