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There's such a cult of celebrity, and in most cases, it's so hollow.
Actors and athletes and people who are famous for attending parties. This one dates that one, that one leaves his wife for the other one, and honestly, it's all spectacle, because none of it matters.
And then you have your Christopher Reeve.
I can remember thinking at one point, even when I was pretty young, "That is the best-looking man I have ever seen, just empirically." I mean, come on. I'll grant you that he's precisely my particular "type," as far as what makes me go all googly-eyed, but every once in a while, you just see a guy who makes you go, "Damn."
Furthermore, Superman is a much harder movie to make than people think. Think about the cold slickness of a movie like Spider-Man. Think about the flops like Hulk and all that. No one has ever really gotten the tone exactly right quite like they did in the first two Superman movies. That pair of movies is so affectionate, and so lovely, and so funny, and so silly, and so rich with myth. And oh, so very swooningly romantic.
It's hard, getting Superman right. The easy part is looking gorgeous in the cape, just uncorking those sky-blue eyes like you don't even know you're doing it. What made Reeve so good, I think, was partly the way he inhabited the Clark Kent half of the equation. He was so ridiculous, with the giant glasses and that enormous suit packing that enormous frame . . . it's such a dumb story, you know? Glasses, and . . . poof! Nobody can tell. Being profoundly silly and being a lusty matinee idol at the same time is a hard climb. Reeve was one of the only people I've ever seen get it really right. I mean, think about the later Dean Cain incarnation -- I loved that show, but Clark was already hot in it. Cain could never have really made Clark a dork. Christopher Reeve's Clark was a dork.
For him to have a paralyzing injury almost seemed like something headline writers made up to entertain themselves at a party. What would you write if the guy who played Superman wound up in a wheelchair, unable to breathe on his own? It was too suggestive, too self-consciously ironic, too obvious. I mean, who would believe that? Honestly, who would believe it?
No matter how brave they are, most brave public figures you read about don't really affect your outlook. I can think of two in my lifetime who did. The first is Alex Deford, the daughter of sportswriter Frank Deford, who died of cystic fibrosis when she was eight. Alex and I were almost the same age, and I read her dad's book about her probably when I was in high school, and she just always stayed with me. The other one was Christopher Reeve. There was something about . . . not just the activism, though yes, that, too. There was something about the way he played the hand he was dealt without either claiming he didn't mind -- he was pissed, and he was sick of not being able to walk, and every goddamn day he was trying to change the situation -- or sinking into sadness.
It's just such a shame. You have things you just hope you'll get to hear someday, even though they don't seem likely -- that Sars found Don, that Jacob Wetterling came home, and, for me, that Christopher Reeve turned out to be right, and it's a good thing he kept up all that hard freaking work, because today he got up and walked, and there he is, and look at him. I really hoped. Foolishly, probably, but still.
I guess that to me, the lesson of Christopher Reeve is that any hand is playable. No matter what you've built your life on up to a particular point, any hand is playable. You can be a guy who rose up as a gorgeous, athletic actor, and you can be paralyzed from the neck down, and you can have a meaningful, rich life after that. You can have taken from you everything that outside appearances would suggest you've worked your whole life to achieve, and you can accomplish most of the most meaningful things you'll ever do between that time and the end of your life. And in that sense, he really is an extraordinary story. I will miss being reminded, but will try to remember.
And I was holding up so well, too ... thanks for putting dashed hope into such fine words, and for honoring such a good, strong man.
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at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]He's not at all my particular type, but it really doesn't get much hotter than this picture right here.
I, too, was saddened when I heard the news, because I, too, thought he would get up and walk. I know it's cheesy and some people don't believe it, but I do find solace in the fact that he IS walking now, somewhere.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]Thanks so much for this post. You just hit everything I thought about Christopher Reeve--
It's good to know that I wasn't the only person that admired what he did after being paralyzed and that so wanted him to get up and walk again. If for nothing else, than that he brought attention to something so other people could realize their dream too.
That was really beautiful writing. Thanks so much.
heart
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]Beautifully said, Linda. And yeah, the first two movies meant a lot to me as a kid. Richard Donner was never able to recapture the magic after those.
I had honestly just finished adding the John Williams theme to my new Superboy website that I'm starting when I read the news.
The man was only 52...what a terrible shame.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]I finally signed up for typekey so that I could say thank you, Linda. I really, truly cried when I saw his name in the paper this morning--something I've never done over a celebrity. I guess I believed him, too. I just figured that one of these days I was going to turn on the tv and there he'd be--lurching, maybe, and being helped along, but walking. Thanks, again. He deserves such a wonderful rememberence.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]You said everything I was thinking. I was another one who thought she'd see him get up and walk one day. I am sorry he didn't make it in his time here on Earth. I know he's walking, riding horses and flying wherever he is now.
Thank you for a wonderful tribute.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]I hate to be a buzzkill here, but I beg to differ (politely, of course). Reeve was, like a lot of celebrities, somewhat arrogant. He was riding a horse and was getting braver and braver in what he would attempt. I don't know the terms when it comes to equestrian events, but I do know that he was injured when he attempted a move that he was advised not to by his instructor simply because his skill level was not appropriate. He did it anyway and was paralyzed at the age of 42.
With all due respect, I feel the more inspirational folks who really deserve us all looking up to them are the ones who had no choice in the matter (i.e., were born that way) and still soldiered on bravely. Not those who were blessed with a healthy body and were reckless with it.
I absolutely feel pity for Reeve and his family, but I don't admire him.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]Well, would that we all were so perfect.
With all due respect in return, there's a time and a place for things, and the day after the guy dies might not be the time for potshots. He probably suffered enough to pay for the egregious mistake of misestimating his equestrian abilities.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]Well, I don't want this to devolve because I certainly don't mean offense, but I have someone in my family who is paralyzed through no fault of his own and it just has always bothered me that Reeve was made out to be a hero, when I feel like he squandered a precious healthy life. Generally, I feel your site fosters debate and I was just putting in my opinion and trying to offer another viewpoint -- not taking "potshots," as you imply.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]People make mistakes. They're not perfect. He had kids; he had a wife. I don't think he set out to "squander a precious healthy life." People make calls every day that carry some degree of risk -- the decision to drive to work carries a risk. The decision to go canoeing on vacation carries a risk. It's always possible to look back with perfect hindsight and say, "Shouldn't have done this; shouldn't have done that."
My admiration for people who do well in difficult situations isn't a zero-sum game. It's not admiring Christopher Reeve's handling of his circumstances or admiring someone else's handling of theirs. It's not a contest for who's the most worthy. Admiring Christopher Reeve doesn't consume admiration that would otherwise be spent on someone else. The man had a horrible thing happen to him, and like a lot of people who have horrible things happen to him, yes, you can look back and find ways he could have avoided it.
But he didn't. So there he was. And to me, the decisions he made after that point showed grace. Grace that is not degraded by the fact that he could probably have avoided being in that situation in the first place. I don't see what those two things have to do with each other. I don't see why I can't admire the course of action he took after a certain point in life, simply because I may be able to find fault with other things he did -- particularly where, to me, the finding of fault is miniscule compared to what he did that was admirable.
To me, the whole "he was arrogant, like most celebrities" bit is an unnecessary dig that really has nothing to do with anything, and it smacks of something kind of unfair. Many people who aren't celebrities do dangerous things because they're fun. People go mountain-climbing, they zing their snowmobiles around, and they generally do things that aren't entirely safe. I don't think it's fair to paint all those people as arrogant, nor do I think Reeve's tendency in that direction was there because he was a celebrity.
Should we all be more grateful for our precious and healthy days? Of course. Are any of us always as appreciative as we should be? No. Don't we all do things every day that reflect some failure to fully appreciate our situations in life? I know I do.
To me, it's people like Christopher Reeve -- or any person who holds up well in a very difficult set of circumstances -- who teach better than anyone else that it is important to be more grateful and more appreciative.
I just can't see him as some callow representation of celebrity worship. If he were beloved only for being paralyzed -- had he disappeared from the public eye after his injury and simply been seen in pictures, breathing through a tube -- I would see your point, in that being befallen by tragedy is not, in and of itself, heroic. But bearing up under its effects is heroic, whether or not I can go back and shake my head at all the ways it might have been avoided.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]ehhh... I am glad that he's free again, but I think the real gift that Reeve provided all of us was how he opened up a dialogue and put a recognizable famous face on a branch of research and human life that was needed.
regardless of how he got in the chair, he was there, and fought to get himself out of it, and fought for others' chances as well. I think he even tried some experiemental procedures, which may end up being a stepping stone for another's progress.
Rather than sink into the background, he put himself out there because that's the best he could do for himself and others that haven't been as fortunate as he was.
He championed a cause, and I respect him for that.
I hope his family can find solace in that, and perhaps see someone else take their first steps.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]I'm also a bit bothered by the idea that some people acquire a disability or an illness "through no fault of their own," and apparently the others somehow deserve it or brought it on themselves. (It feels similar, to me, to the describing of some with AIDS as "innocent" -- children particularly -- leaving the others apparently guilty.) As Linda said, it's not a zero-sum game: we can have sympathy for (or, when appropriate, admire) those in this situation, HOWEVER it happened.
Any of us might be construed as somehow "throwing away a healthy life" by dozens of choices we make every day: driving, eating junk occasionally, drinking sometimes, not exercising as much as is recommended, whatever.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]Some have argued that Pat Tillman and Dale Earnhardt threw their lives away by getting themselves into high-risk situations.
I have never gotten involved in those arguements, because as much as I hate war and motor sports, those were choices that didn't put anybody at risk but the chooser.
That being said, in no way would I classify horse-jumping as high-risk, given that one is more likely to fall off a ladder than be thrown by a horse.
The incident reminded me of an old T.V. movie with Carrie Fisher and John Ritter. He ends up paralyzed from a polo accident and becomes solitary and embittered. Princess, um..sorry, Carrie Fisher ends up finally breaking down his barriers and in the end becomes his girlfriend.
I remember how hard it was to watch that movie, because the Ritter I knew up till then was always so full of life.
Now he's gone to...
I need a drink.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
[ link ]Thanks so much, Linda, for saying it just how it sounded in my head. Reeve took the entirely crappy circumstances life threw at him and spent the rest of his life as a fighter, recognising that his fame was both a gift and kind of a responsibility, too.
I'd been wondering why this was resonating so familiarly with me, and you've made me realise that my other Christopher Reeve was Elizabeth Glaser and her advocacy for AIDS patients.
I was another one who really wanted to believe that Reeve would walk again one day. I feel lost and sad knowing that he didn't.
at 07:05 AM on 10.11.04
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