Have Kleenex ready, cuz I mean, damn. In “Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story” (2024), the “S” doesn’t stand for Superman, nor is it an alien symbol, it stands for sad. Granted, it’s not pure misery: Documentary writer-directors Ian Bonhôte and Peter Ettedgui find room for cathartic laughs – one of Reeve’s best buds was Robin Williams – and hope. As Reeve said, there’s no “false hope,” just hope.
This is a critic-proof documentary as it warmly recounts the incredible life of Reeve, which included literal high-flying acting success, the depths of tragedy, life-saving snatches of hope and some true successes (which I wish would’ve been explored more) with paralysis studies.
And then more tragedy for the Reeve family. I mean, jeez, I half-expected the documentary to pile on and tell us the fates of Williams and Margot Kidder by the end, too.
“Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story” (2024)
Directors: Ian Bonhôte, Peter Ettedgui
Writers: Ian Bonhôte, Otto Burnham, Peter Ettedgui
Subject: Biography of “Superman” (1978) actor Christopher Reeve (1952-2004)
It’s hard to imagine anyone not being moved by “Super/Man” even if they wanted more “Superman” stuff, but beware what you’re in for. Although it touches upon his career – and uses clips from “Rear Window” (1998) to illustrate regular quadriplegia struggles – this is actually the story of Reeves the man.
His wife, Dana, is almost a co-subject as family love – truly through sickness and health in this case – is a consistent theme. Reeve’s children Matthew, Alexandra and Will are the main interview subjects. We also hear from the mother of Matthew and Alexandra, Gae Exton; they met on a British movie production. And those who are no longer with us — such as Williams, “Superman” director Richard Donner and the titular subject himself — are very present thanks to archival interviews and home videos supplied by the Reeve family.
Flying straight ahead
Reeve’s story is so moving on the face of it that Bonhote and Ettedgui perhaps decided it’s best to shoot straight. It would be easy to manipulate us with shots of Reeve’s trademark smirk or a snatch of John Williams music, but they resist and try to be balanced. They soften the blow a bit by using two parallel timelines: one from the start of Reeve’s life, one from the point of his 1995 horse-riding accident.
The actor’s reputation is so staggering that it’s eye-opening to learn about his flaws, such as going on a ski trip the day after his first child’s birth and leaving Gae because he wasn’t feeling it, despite previous assertions that he’d end the Reeve family tree’s cycle of broken marriages.
His shaky relationship with his own father — Franklin, who believed film acting was a worthless pursuit — provides a stark illustration about how character flaws can be generational, even if the person is well-meaning. In a way, it’s refreshing to relearn what should be obvious: No one is perfect.
It might’ve been nice to dig more into Reeve’s irritation with being put on a pedestal – in one interview clip, we can see his frustration as he explains that he’s just a man. It’s interesting how many adults see actors as their characters, rather than as their true selves (even as I find myself getting swept up in Reeve’s post-accident speeches, too). But it leads to a poignant epiphany: Heroism is not an extraordinary being doing the extraordinary, it’s an ordinary human never ceasing to fight.
Look elsewhere for thorough chronicles of Superman, and even Reeves’ specific “Superman” quadrilogy (which leaves a depressing aftertaste here as we learn he wasn’t feeling it on “Superman III” nor “Superman IV”). But for the story of Reeve the man – and the people who loved and supported him – it’s hard to imagine anything more powerful than “Super/Man.”