When I talked to my mom last week, I told her I hoped to see Man of Steel this weekend. She said, “You always did love Superman.” And, I did. And, I do. It’s hard to believe the last son of Krypton is 75. Harder still to believe the movie that made me fall in love with him is 30 odd years old.
Christopher Reeve will forever be my Superman, and Margot Kidder my Lois Lane. (Why else would I impersonate her on YouTube?). That said, I really liked Man of Steel. I didn’t LOVE it like I wanted to, but it wasn’t unforgivable. Certainly better than his incarnation as a deadbeat dad in Singer’s version, but certainly no Christopher Reeve. But then, who is? Not to say Henry Cavil didn’t do a “super” job filling out his tights. He looked every inch the part. I miss the panties. He looked a little naked without them and not in a ba-chick-a-bow-bow kind of way.
Just in time for the movie, DC released Superman Unchained by Scott Snyder with really pretty art by Jim Lee and a really dumb fold-out page that was so not worth an extra dollar. It wasn’t bad per se; I think John Byrne ruined Superman for me by any other creator. And, once again, I miss the panties. I don’t know why, but the cliffhanger at the end of the first issue made me laugh out loud for reals. I literally burst into laughter. I don’t think that was the desired effect.
Through all his incarnations and depictions, Superman remains iconic, classic, and inspirational. Whether I’m watching Henry Cavil strut his stuff or I’m lounging at home in my Superman pj bottoms, there will always be a connection to my 8-year-old self when I think of Kal-El. I believe a man can fly. I always did, and I always will. Happy Birthday, Superman!
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