OneMetal.com film ARTICLE:
Superman III – Better Than You Remember.

For my Sophomore article, I had pondered coming up with a nice game or film review, or perhaps a news story. When you’re permitted to scribble essentially anything (publishable) about films or games, however, your mind expands to other, bigger dimensions: think of the possibilities!

My divine inspiration, however, arrived as I was sprawled, near comatose, on the couch, watching a recording of Christopher Reeve’s third outing in the famous cape.

I know what you’re thinking: why the hell would someone write a piece on what is generally considered a cocking of the rifle for the Reeve series, before it was ultimately shot dead via the shambles that was Superman IV: The Quest for Peace (1987)? The very film that put the series on a 19-year hiatus until Bryan Singer’s Superman Returns (2006). To paraphrase a particularly prescient Gus Gorman – the character portrayed by the late, great Richard Pryor in the film – ‘I don’t believe a man can fly’.

Despite a rocky shoot on the first movie (producer-director budget/schedule disputes), it excelled critically and commercially. Even the second film, despite a directorial mash-up (original director Richard Donner had already filmed around 75% of the sequel as the first two films were originally shot back-to-back before he was replaced by Richard Lester who filmed mostly new footage) fared well and holds an 88% “Fresh” rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

Kneel before Zod: a superior villain in Superman II's Terence Stamp

However, Lester disliked the epic, story-led journey that Donner created. He wanted things more comic and campy – sound like another DC Comics franchise?

In Reeve’s words himself:

[He] was always looking for a gag – sometimes to the point where the gags involving Richard Pryor went over the top. I mean, I didn’t think that his going off the top of a building, on skis with a pink tablecloth around his shoulders, was particularly funny …

There was also the ill-advised slapstick opening, an uninspired main villain, a whisper of a narrative and a sensitive, though tacked-on, romantic sub-plot. And gags. Lots of gags.

Lester had an ace card though, and he played it brilliantly.

Donner’s strong, solid setup had been an unintentional gift to Lester’s obviously contrasting style. Here we had Superman: the all-American hero inspiring millions since his inception, the poster boy for truth justice and the American way, complemented with the then unknown Christopher Reeve, nailing his screen test (after first being denied an audition), simply by hopping up on to a balcony and uttering the line, ‘Good evening, Miss Lane’ (Director of photography Geoffrey Unsworth turned to co-writer Tom Mankiewicz at this point and whispered, ‘Oh, thank god!’ – the search for their lead had been long and arduous).

Good evening, Miss Lane: the screen test that landed Reeve the role

To many, if not all of us, Reeve was… is Superman. Every line uttered wearing the cape, the near-permanent polish of altruism plastered across his handsome, square-jawed features radiating a hero, birthing a star.

Lester was able to use that Christ-like goodness and turn it on its side. What was this? Superman has … turned EVIL?

On paper, it sounds like a story arc for a seven-issue comic run. But within this flip-sided microcosm of Superman’s dark side, Lester’s surprisingly sharp direction and Reeve’s note-perfect performance (one of the film’s few critical praises), elevated it far above a mere cinematic gimmick.

We begin Superman’s ‘change’ when he’s presented with what was supposed to be a fatal chunk of engineered Kryptonite. Not all the ingredients are present though and the eventual metamorphosis begins subtly, awkwardly, disturbingly.

Here he was, having just been given the Key to the City at Smallville and being treated to a thank-you lunch at the home of The One That Got Away at high school, Lana Lang (Annette O’Toole).

Lana leaves the room to answer the phone, then suddenly Superman comes over dizzy, sits on the arm of the couch. What was this? He’s not supposed to look unwell?

She returns, anxiously asking him to aid people injured and needing immediate help after an accident – a vehicle about to fall off a bridge, ‘I hate to make you rush off’ she says, expecting him to exit instantly without a second thought. ‘Well, there’s no rush’ comes the reply. ‘I always get there on time, let’s relax a little.’ They sit down on the couch, Superman – Reeve’s Superman – sitting inappropriately close. ‘You know, it’s unusual finding a good-looking girl like you alone like this.’ She squirms uncomfortably in her seat, making cursory eye-contact at him, as he gazes back motionless, with a fixed, wolfish smirk.

And there it was. All we knew, all we’d held dear about an iconic character had been thrown up into the cosmos through a brief exchange and a behavioural fuck up. He can’t do this! He’s supposed to be Superman!

From there on in, Lester ramps things up, albeit at first unevenly. Supes’ next bad deeds were straightening the Leaning Tower of Pisa, blowing out an Olympic torch and disrupting the course of an oil tanker… in return for sex. Unexpected, but not particularly shocking.

Things get better, much better however, when we’re presented with Superman, drunk in a bar, flicking peanuts at spirit bottles, shattering them instantly. A scene bathed menacingly in Ken Thorne’s emphatic, menacing music score. Here was Reeve’s Superman totally devoid of his trademark wholesomeness, scowling over a bottle of whiskey, unable to bear viewing his own cruel, unshaven reflection, melting a facing mirror before leaving, barking at bemused spectators as they watched him stagger out, sozzled.

Keep it comin': Superman's lowest ebb

Also (albeit conveniently) present is Lana Lang and her Superman-smitten son, Ricky. ‘Superman, tell them you won’t hurt anybody!’ he bellows as Superman dismissively moves away down the pavement, then tearfully, ‘You can hear me, can’t you, Superman? I know you’re going to be alright! You’re just in a slump! You’ll be great again. You can do it, Superman!’

These words resonate round and round Superman’s mind, as he flies, conflicted, in turmoil, to a construction site. Thundering out an anguished scream, his loyalties are literally divided as he splits in two, becoming both Superman and Clark Kent. Good and evil. Yin and Yang. What follows is arguably the best scene in the film and arguably the best acting of Reeve’s four turns: Superman furiously goading the beloved, bespectacled Kent, spouting vitriol with every sneering breath; each trading blows and inventive use of the surroundings; until ultimately, Kent’s victory, through mercilessly strangling his evil doppelgänger.

Dialogue is limited here, reduced (smartly) to insults and taunts. It’s all in the expressions, the words, the delivery: Kent: ‘I can give as good as I get’ Superman: ‘Oh yeah? Come on. Come on! COME ON!’ This we didn’t see coming. This was Reeve’s finest hour.

Dark side: the evil Superman's true colours were beyond red , yellow and blue

It’s easy, nay forgiveable, to dismiss a film like Superman III as being less than the sum of its parts. Overall, it’s generally inferior to the previous entries. But there’s a fitting metaphor here in a later scene, with Superman scanning a coal mine to find a huge diamond. The same could be said of Lester’s direction and Reeve’s performance(s) within this skewing of the character.

In Mike Judge’s ace worker-drone satire Office Space (1999), where this very film was referenced through one character’s pay-filtering scam congruent to Gus Gorman’s, the character remarks ‘Superman III, underrated movie actually.’

You know what? I think he’s on the money in more ways than one.