Christopher Reeve’s Superman can never be defeated

With all of the different iterations of classic superheroes we’ve seen pop up on our television and movie screens over the last seven decades, one might not think that a character as, well, basic as Superman would be so difficult for audiences to fall for. Sure, he’s got his lore, but Superman’s abilities and ideals are relatively elementary. He’ll fight (and fly) for justice with his super strength and x-ray vision, and whether a woman is free-falling from a great height or a cat is stuck in a tree, he’ll be there to save the day, faster than a speeding bullet. Yet, actors stepping into Superman’s bright, red boots have found themselves saddled with a uniquely challenging task that exceeds the hero’s easily understood powers. They must not only look the part of the Man of Steel and his human alter ego, Clark Kent, but also be a compelling enough presence that the actor in the suit becomes one with what he stands for.

Perhaps it’s the fact that his contemporaries Batman and Spider-Man spend half of their screen time behind a mask and don’t necessarily need to emote to the same degree, or maybe it’s the analogous picture of Americana that he represents. But Superman has long proven tricky for filmmakers to get right. Since the new millennium, there hasn’t been a Superman to hit the silver screen that audiences have truly fallen for. Newcomer Brandon Routh gave rebooting the hero the old college try in 2006’s “Superman Returns,” but the romance-forward nature of the film ironically left audiences cold. And much has been made about Henry Cavill’s stern, darker portrayal of the titular hero in 2013’s “Man of Steel” and the following “Batman v. Superman” and “Justice League” films. Despite a handful of notable television showings — may we never forget Tom Welling’s “Smallville” heartthrob status — Superman as a character has been fittingly impervious.

That’s the problem with a hero as iconic as Superman: When one person fits the bill so perfectly, it’s hard for anyone else to measure up. And in Richard Donner’s 1978 film “Superman,” Christopher Reeve’s depiction of the Man of Steel was so irresistible, so ripped from the pages of your favorite childhood comic book, that Reeve became the paragon of what Superman can and should be. For all of the emotional layers ascribed to cinema’s contemporary superheroes, Reeve’s Superman is blissfully uncomplicated. He gets the job done with charm to spare, wearing the “S” on his chest like an honor, not a burden. And while David Corenswet’s souped-up super flying into theaters this weekend looks like he may give Reeve’s performance a run for his money, there is no competing with a portrayal that made superheroes into blockbuster silver screen fare. Reeve’s Superman is the only silver screen superhero not toppled by a newcomer, making his blockbuster and its sequels enduring examples of superhuman hope.

Before watching “Superman” at the behest of my father as a kid, I wasn’t much for superheroes at all. I’d always had a somewhat advanced palate, jumping from Disney Channel original movies to R-rated thrillers that had their more adult thematic content edited for television. Superhero movies never much dazzled someone like me, a kid who was concerned with real-life stakes, like how Harrison Ford could survive jumping hundreds of feet into a dam in “The Fugitive.” But I trust my dad’s taste implicitly, and at that time, he had just received the first two of Reeve’s “Superman” films in the mail from Netflix. (These were the before times.)

It’s not that my expectations for Donner’s first “Superman” were surpassed all those years ago; it’s that they were shattered to smithereens. Even watching the film today, there has never been anything quite like it. Nothing looks like “Superman.” Thanks to a melange of practical effects, matte paintings, miniatures, models and costly, groundbreaking special effects, Donner achieved a superhero movie that looks unlike anything made in the decades since. Even the technical marvel of something like Christopher Nolan’s “Dark Knight” trilogy, which famously saw the implosion of a massive structure for the second film, can’t match the visual awe of what the technical artists pulled off for “Superman.” That the movie still looks so graphic and singular today is a marvel in its own right. For all things made possible by computer-generated effects in later Superman films, the CG pales in comparison to Donner’s opening trial and the Fortress of Solitude sequences, both of which look so real they’re practically terrifying, especially for what is, ostensibly, a film made for kids.

But visual flair is one thing; captivating an audience with the titular hero is another entirely. Enter Reeve, who appears a third of the way through the film to little fanfare and earns every moment of his rise to reverence. The casting process for “Superman” was famously so tenuous that producer Ilya Salkind arranged for his wife’s dentist to get a screen test just because of his striking resemblance to the Man of Steel. (More like the Man of Gold . . . crowns! Sorry.) Reeve wasn’t the producers’ first pick, but the size of the actor’s neck in a headshot made them reconsider, hoping he could build himself up to fighting shape. While Reeve gained weight and muscle for the part, his physique is far from the impossibly jacked superhero body we know today, and his Superman is all the better for it. Clark Kent does, after all, have a very busy job as a reporter at Metropolis’ Daily Planet newspaper alongside his crush Lois Lane (played here by Margot Kidder). Not a lot of spare time to get to the gym when you’re on deadline!

That Reeve is undeniably handsome, but not unachievably so, only adds to his charm. How could audiences not fall head over heels, or imagine themselves in his boots, when he’s the beguiling picture of real-life attainability? For a superhero as American as apple pie, Reeve had the movie star good looks of a mix between Gregory Peck and Rock Hudson. His image was new, yet familiar, and that familiarity is precisely what allowed Reeve’s version of Superman — and the hopeful messages of Donner’s film — to click instantly with audiences eager to see the comic book icon on the big screen for the first time.

When Clark Kent leaves his adopted parents in the rural town of Smallville, headed for Metropolis after his eighteenth birthday, Ma Kent (Phyllis Thaxter) reminds him, “Always remember us.” Superman fights for the people on the Great Plains as much as he does those in the coastal cities, and Reeve’s interpretation is purple mountain majesty all the way. “Superman” crash-landed on a planet divided, closing out an era defined by crime, economic strife and the Vietnam War. Moviegoers were desperately searching for a sign of hope and a figure to hold a united front. In that respect, it’s no wonder that Reeve became the definitive version of Superman, a title he’s had in all of the years since.

But perhaps it’s because Reeve walked the walk that viewers truly fell in love with him. He didn’t just play Superman, he spent his career championing the hero’s values. In one pointedly funny moment in the film, Lois asks Superman why he’s come to Earth, to which he responds that he’s here to fight for truth and justice. “You’re going to end up fighting every elected official in this country!” Lois retorts. It’s a great line, but it’s also true to the person Reeve was, critical of Reagan era conservatism and a proponent of disability research, the arts, diversity, equal rights and a heap of other progressive causes.

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In the film, Reeve can brood as well as he can smolder, punch as precisely as he can deliver a crackerjack line of dialogue. He’s the picture of perfection that Superman is posited to be, which is what made the reminder of his humanity all the more shocking when he was paralyzed in a horseback riding accident in 1995. That Reeve continued to use his influence for good, and didn’t turn his predicament into a force for hate, is a testament not to Superman, but to the strength of character it takes to play this hero convincingly. While someone like Dean Cain might’ve had the good looks and charm to play the Man of Steel in the ’90s, that’s all his portrayal really was, and the actor’s degradation into Trump-loving, decidedly anti-Superman conservatism shows it.

In a moment in history when classic images of Americana have a pallid stain on them, a film like “Superman,” and Reeve’s undeniable portrayal of the Man of Steel, still feel like hopeful visions of what we’re capable of, and the kinds of stories we can tell when the character’s actors play their parts as though they’re more than just a paycheck. While it sounds as though James Gunn’s “Superman” will be tackling similar topics in a time when they’re desperately needed, it’ll be hard for any film, or any actor, to do it with such awe-inspiring grace as the original silver screen Superman. But for as difficult a task as it may be, it’s worth trying. As Reeve said at the Oscars in 1996, 10 months after his accident, while giving a speech encouraging filmmakers to be unafraid of critical social topics: “Let’s continue to take risks. Let’s tackle the issues. In many ways, our film community can do it better than anyone else.”