It's not often that Channel 5 makes me smile. I mean, I watch it sometimes on my own in bed when my self-loathing levels are spiking, but its neverending spewing of hate and bile against anybody too disenfranchised to be able to defend themselves is, frankly, pretty fucking shameful.
Still, whoever's in charge of the 5 USA schedules evidently isn't an entirely irredeemable human being. It was kind of them to show the original Superman yesterday, on the eleventh anniversary of the death of Christopher Reeve. I was heartbroken when it happened; shockingly, despite having lost two grandparents and an aunt already, the passing of an actor I'd never met felt like my first proper taste of grief. This was Superman, though - and I don't think many will dispute that Reeve was Superman - and if he could cease to exist then it suddenly seemed as though nothing in life was a constant any more. It hurt so much that I couldn't bear to think about the actor or the character, and a movie that had been part of my life since my age could be counted on the fingers of one hand felt as though it had been lost to me forever.
It's a cliche that time is a great healer; in truth, I suspect that in this particular case it was less time and more the sudden glut of moderately watchable superhero flicks. In any case, when I saw Superman on the TV listings yesterday, it felt like the right time to go back and take a look at one of the films that's been responsible for shaping practically my entire lifetime of viewing preferences.
I wasn't expecting it to be great, and it wasn't. It runs nearly two and a half hours, for one thing, and the pacing is what might charitably called leisurely. Something like an hour goes past without even a sniff of action, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I was slightly disturbed to find myself in possession of rather less patience than my single-digit self. Heck, one of the opening scenes confusingly introduces and then promptly dismisses a group of villains who wouldn't reappear until the sequel. Oh, and as Lois Lane, poor Margot Kidder is made to perform a positively Shatneresque spoken word piece as an accompaniment to some of John Williams', ahh, fine orchestral score, a scene which has never, ever ceased to make me want to claw out my eyes and eardrums.
With all that said, Superman's charms are hard to resist. Almost forty years on the effects work holds up just fine, with Reeve looking pretty much as convincing on invisible wires as Iron Man does as an intangible CGI sprite. The bigger set pieces are pretty great, too; I was surprised by a genuinely effective sequence featuring the Golden Gate Bridge. The set design in general is also a delight, from the icy Fortress of Solitude to Lex Luthor's esoterically-furnished lair. Richard Donner was also smart enough to hire a genuinely classy cast, with Margot Kidder, Gene Hackman and even Brando providing able support.
In the end, though, the film lives and dies by Christopher Reeve's utterly delightful performance. His Superman feels like the better part of all of us, humble and gently humorous to the extent that these, rather than his flight or super speed, become the character's most memorable qualities. He's the definitive Superman - arguably the only remotely interesting one, in fact.
I won't be in any great hurry to return to this one, but when I do go back, it will definitely be with great fondness.
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