Thursday, January 31, 2019
Len Wein's Batman: Batman 307
When I review the covers of my issues of Batman, it turns out some of my favorites were all scripted by the same guy: Len Wein. Unknown to me at the time, Wein had already co-created Swamp Thing for DC and rebooted the X-Men over at Marvel, including the co-creation of Wolverine, Storm, Nightcrawler, and Colossus. Nope, all I cared about was good Batman stories, and for a stretch there in late 1978 and all through 1979, Len Wein was the monthly writer (mostly) for Batman.
With the cover date for Wein’s first issue being January 1979 (although it hit the spinner racks a month or so earlier), I thought it would be fun to re-read Wein’s Batman run forty years later and see how it holds up. Spoiler: his run is among my favorites of all-time. In fact, Wein wrote one of my favorite all-time comic stories, Batman vs. The Incredible Hulk. But that’s for a later post.
Speaking of holding up, Batman and Bruce Wayne in the 1970s is my favorite version of the character. Dick Grayson is off to college, leaving Bruce to move out of Wayne Manor and into Gotham City proper. He takes up residence at the Wayne Foundation building, and operates there for most of the decade. It is one of the neatest buildings in comicdom, what with the giant tree in the middle of the building, which secretly houses an elevator to the basement where the Batmobile is kept. For a young boy like me, this was the coolest thing ever.
The building shows up in Batman issue 307, but not before in intriguing two-page prologue. A beggar woman is asking for spare change. A man in a trench coat, fedora, and scarf approaches and gives her two gold pieces. The next page, she falls dead, right under the title, “Dark Messenger of Mercy!” The artist in this issue is John Calnan and Dick Giordano.
The first time we see Bruce Wayne, he is in his office, staring out the window. Next to him is Lucius Fox in his debut. I’m not sure the thought process Wein went through to create Fox, but the character has been around for these last forty years. Morgan Freeman played him in the Christopher Nolan Batman movies. From the chit-chat between Fox and Wayne, however, it’s clear Wayne has not shared his secret identity. The two men talk about business and name drop a man named Gregorian Falstaff (love the name) who, according to Wayne, “He’s rumored to have have a fortune which makes mine look like so much lunch money.”
Darkness literally falls over Gotham in one short panel, and Wayne excuses himself. He tags up with Alfred who has the Batman costume at the ready. As he swings off the top of the Foundation building, Batman makes a comment to Alfred: “When I start making value judgements—deciding who’s important enough to avenge—it’ll be time to hang up my mask forever.” Here in 2019, with the recent passing of Stan Lee, many folks mentioned Lee’s strong streak of social justice running through his words. Here, in 1979, Len Wein does the same thing for Batman.
Meanwhile...at police headquarters, a man named Quentin Conroy is livid. He wants Gotham’s finest to help him find stolen property, gold coins to be exact. Unbeknownst to both men, Batman is sitting in the same room, legs casually crossed, fingers steepled. The Caped Crusader in convinced he can find Conroy’s missing money, especially since two of the coins turned up on that dead woman’s corpse.
Street level, Batman approaches a sleep bum and there is a funny couple of panels. In the boxed panels, Wein writes “Without question, the Batman is an impressive figure. His unexpected visage, looming large out of the darkness, is often viewed with admiration...or hostility...or outright fear…” “But rarely indifference.” This as the bum goes back to sleep. See? You can have humor in a Batman story. Anyway, an Irishman named Shamrock (natch) approaches and asks the hero if he needs helps. When Batman says he’s investigating the murder of the woman, Shamrock knew her. He volunteers to escort Batman down into the sewers to meet some folks who might have seen something.
What Batman sees is a group of people living in an underground tunnel, the area kept warm by the steam pipes. Here, Batman meets Slugger (from the ‘48 Gotham Giants baseball team), Poet (Shakespeare of the sewers), and Good Queen Bess. Through dialogue alone, Wein gives these characters their accents and particular ways of speaking. Shamrock always says, “Laddie,” while Slugger talks like a New Yorker: “Pleased to meet ‘cha!” Batman learns there have been other deaths...and Queen Bess actually has two of the coins with her. The Dark Knight Detective ascertains the gold coins are laced with a contact poison, absorbed through the skin.
No sooner does Batman make this discovery than a piercing scream fills the bowels of Gotham. Another woman is being attacked! It’s the man with the fedora and red scarf. Batman leaps to action. A fight ensues, and Batman gets himself whacked by Scarfman’s cane. In the melee, two things happen. One, Scarfman’s hat and scarf fall away, revealing a face the citizens of the underworld know. Two, Scarfman’s cane cracked a steam pipe. It’s about to blow. So Batman gets between the pipe and the people. It explodes, hurling Batman across the room.
Later, Batman’s “new tattered friends” say Scarfman looks just like one of their own: “Limehouse” John Francis Conroy, a man who used to sleep with them before just disappearing. Being the detective, Batman soon finds his way to Quentin Conroy’s house (because Batman can get into any room in Gotham, right?). Heated words are exchanged and Quentin confesses John Francis was his father. He kept the gold coins as a remembrance of his father, a man who ran out on his family while Quentin was a kid. The modern pressures of the world drove John Francis to the streets, supposedly dying in a gutter.
But Batman isn’t so sure.
The next night, we see Scarfman prowling about. He gives coins to a man who extends his hand...the gloved hand of The Batman! Oddly, Batman is wearing a sling, proof not only did the steam explosion hurt him worse than we saw three pages ago, but reminding readers the Caped Crusader is really just a man, a man who can get injured. A second battle commences, but Batman’s shoulder hampers him. Scarfman swings the cane too wide, allowing Batman to come in underneath him. A powerful punch to the mid-section topples Scarfman. The odd cast of characters are also there, cheering on Batman. Scarfman questions their motives. All he wants is to give these street people some mercy and peace. But “the peace of the grave” is something they shun. Just as they shun him.
Scarfman’s mind snaps. He accuses Batman of turning these “friends of his” away from him. His face is misshapen, resembling John Francis Conroy, but a few panels later, it is revealed to be Quentin all along. Quentin, looking almost like a young boy.
Wein wraps up the entire story in three thin panels. We see Quentin being led away and Commissioner Gordon asking Batman about the clue. It was the heels of Quentin’s shoes, something we saw a few pages before. Many of the 1970s stories had clues the reader could follow, and it’ fun to go back and notice certain things you might have missed the first go-round.
Wein wrote a pretty decent script. I enjoy the non-super-villain aspect of these kinds of stories. Kind of like a breather before we get to the next issue featuring Mr. Freeze. Wein brings Batman’s humanity to the fore, both in how he protects the homeless but also, at the end, when he hopes young Quentin will receive the help he needs. He’s a true hero to all, discriminating toward none.
What did y’all think about this story?
Saturday, January 26, 2019
Year of an Indie Writer: Week 4
BLOG POST TO READ
Ever since I read this post by Dean Wesley Smith, “No One Cares,” I’ve been giving it some thought. It’s churned around in my brain, off and on, for two weeks now. And it’s allowed me the freedom to change—potentially—my publishing schedule for the year.
What I’ve said from New Year’s Day on is that this is the year of Calvin Carter. Yes, I will be publishing at least the five novels I’ve already written. Each of these six books will be published on the odd-numbered months. EMPTY COFFINS on New Year’s Day. HELL DRAGON on 1 March.
But what y’all didn’t know is my plan for the even-numbered months. I had a whole other schedule planned out.
What I realized this week—early on, actually—was that I wasn’t ready for 1 February. At least, not for a novel.
So I’m preparing a couple of short stories. They are modern crime fiction featuring a character named Anne Chambers. She’s a homicide detective for the Houston Police Department. One of the stories was originally published as part of Do Some Damage’s COLLATERAL DAMAGE anthology (2011). The latter was originally published at David Cranmer’s Beat to a Pulp blog. Now, they are paired together in a short collection.
In other words, when you are an independent writer and publisher and you haven’t made public your schedule, you can do whatever you want...because your company is agile.
ALWAYS LEARNING - INSTAGRAM
I’m a member of Western Fictioneers, a writing group dedicated to western fiction. I’ve been a member since the group’s founding in 2009. We are a great group of folks who read each other’s works and collectively promote western stories and books.
We also help each other figure out how to promote our stuff and share marketing techniques. No matter how your stories are published, you simply must do the lion’s share of your own promotion. It is a constant learning process. For some, this process can be frustrating. For me, it’s a challenge, but one I actually enjoy. As much as I would love for there to be a “set it and forget it” solution, there simply isn’t one.
Which circled me back to Instagram this week.
I’ve been on Instagram for a few years now, but did nothing other than follow a graphic designer friend of mine, Mark Hamill, Neal Adams, and Kevin Smith. But after reading an internal Western Fictioneers email thread, I’m turning back to Instagram. I even uploaded my first...post? What do you call individual Instagram posts? Who knows? But I did it. And I plan on doing it more often in 2019.
Follow me on Instagram here. And if you’re of a mind, follow S. L. Matthews.
DEAL OF THE WEEK...AND ANOTHER LESSON
Do Some Damage alumnus, Kristi Belcamino, has a terrific deal.
I’ve subscribed to her newsletter for a few years now. She has forged ahead as an independent author and she is rocking it. She’s got her newsletter, her Facebook group, and her video channel where she talks about books, her own works, and the utterly charming “Coffee Talk Puppy Talk” series. You should subscribe to her channel. She’s at 95 subscribers as of yesterday. Let’s get her to 100 this week.
She’s got six books in her Gia Santella Crime Thriller series. With those six books, she has lots of options for promoting and selling them. And as of today, you can get all six books...for $0.99.
A dollar! Six books. Are you kidding me? You should buy that on principle. It’s a remarkable deal. Over 1,000 pages of crime fiction. And, as of today, she ranks as #1 in her fields. That’s how you marshal your books to your advantage.
If you are not following Kristi, you should. She’s a leader in what you can do as an indie writer.
Website
YouTube
ALBUM OF THE WEEK
I’ve got an early favorite for my song of the year.
When it comes to melodic hard rock and metal, Frontiers Music is leading the charge at keeping legacy acts in the public eye while showcasing new artists. To start 2019, they have a free sampler when you join their email list. It’s a list of twelve tracks by bands I’ve never heard of (save one: One Desire).With a hashtag of #RockAintDead, how can you go wrong?
You can't.
If you like hard rock with a melodic edge, go now to this site, sign up, and download this music. It is really, really good. How good? There’s not a bad song on this sampler. And how about this: I’ve already purchased two albums by artists featured on the sampler. One Desire’s self-titled debut and ALL RISE, an album by the band Perfect Plan. Both of these bands sit right in that wonderful pocket of taking old songs and styles and making them their own.
It is “In and Out of Love” by Perfect Plan that I find myself singing while washing dishes or folding laundry. Want to hear it?
That’s the update for Week 4 of 2019.
How has your 2019 been going?
Sunday, January 20, 2019
Year of an Indie Writer: Week 3
Year of an Indie Writer: Week 2
UPDATING EBOOKS
BLOG OF THE WEEK
Year of an Indie Writer: Week 1
- Kobo Writing Life for Kobo
ebooks - KDP for Amazon
ebooks - Draft2Digital for everything else, including Apple and Barnes and Noble
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
The Calvin Carter Adventures Begin With Empty Coffins
Calvin Carter has arrived.
The year 2019 will be the year of Calvin Carter, railroad detective, here at the offices of Quadrant Fiction Studio. We've got six--count 'em six--novels on the way. They will be published every other month starting on New Year's Day. I am so excited about this series and I can't wait for you to meet Detective Carter.
The first book is EMPTY COFFINS.
And I have to tell you, I simply love the opening chapter. But before you get to that, here's the Description:
When a group of bandits derails a train and murders an engineer in cold blood, it’s not the loot they’re after.
It’s the coffins.
Debonair former actor turned railroad detective, Calvin Carter, is on that train. He zeroes in on the object of the robbery. From the clues left behind, corpses weren’t the only things in the caskets. And a sniper’s bullet silences the only witness.
Now, Carter may be the only player in this twisted script who can solve this Wild West mystery. But will he get to the truth in time, or end up in a pine box himself?
Heck, I'd read that. Hope it whets your curiosity to discover who Carter is and how he goes about investigating his cases. If you want a little teaser, head on over to the EMPTY COFFINS page for the complete chapter 1. Have a read and see how fun Carter is…and how I think he's a little different than your average detective. Or cowboy.
I'll have much more on Carter as this month and year goes on. There are other books on the horizon as well*, but today, with the dawn of a new year, I want to focus on Calvin Carter, a new type of detective.
Enjoy.
*If you want to keep up with my existing and growing catalog of stories and receive a free sampler catalog of all my stories, sign up for my email list.
Thursday, December 6, 2018
Reflections at Fifty
The older I get, the more birthdays mean to me. But, to date, none have been as monumental as today’s.
Today I am fifty.
A half century. Hard to believe, and, yet, not.
The one thing about having one’s birth year be 1968 and the month be December is that all the anniversaries roll through the year to help remind me what age I am. The Tet Offensive, Lyndon Johnson’s announcement he would not run for reelection, the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy, the protests outside the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, the election of Richard Nixon, the White Album’s release, and more. The only major thing that always comes to mind after my birthday was when Apollo 8 circled the moon for the first time and we humans got to see earth from far away. And there’s always the shadow of the Pearl Harbor anniversary tomorrow.
Speaking of history, I was surprised when my dad once told me that his mom was worried that I would be born on December 7. Mind you, 1968 is 27 years after the attack on Pearl Harbor, but the memory still burned in her brain.
Every year, when your birthday rolls around, someone always asks you “Do you feel older?” The answer today, and always, is not really. I’m still just me. Friends and family might disagree, but about the only physical evidence of my age is the number of gray hairs. Granted, the ones at my temples evidentially present me as distinguished. I don't know about that, but I enjoy not getting carded buying wine at Trader Joe's. The ones in my beard, however, certainly show my age.
Shrug. Inside my head, I’m still a young man. Some days, I’m more youth than young man. Others, I’m just a kid. When a new Star Wars movie debuts, I’m back to being eight.
Up until now, birthday have always been a number.
Now, the number is fifty.
Throughout the years, as my birthday approaches, I grow reflective. How fascinating the timing this year with the funeral proceedings of President George H.W. Bush going on. His was a life well lived. An example of how to carry oneself. And he loved his family so, so much.
I love my family, too. I’m a husband. I’m a dad. I’m a son. Those relationships are what matter most. Those are truly the best gifts in the world.
One sign of getting older occurs most Christmas seasons. “What do you want for Christmas?” I often ask my mom and dad and wife. The answers tend to be “Not much” or “I don’t really need anything.” Sure, we can all find the few material things we’d like to own, but more often than not, the gift of life is the best. I’m often asked why I spend most every day in a good mood with a smile on my face. My answer is simple: “I woke up.” Every day of life is a good day. Yes, there will be days more difficult than others, but those hard days are part of life, part of the seasons of life. One has to go through them because there are always good days on the other side.
Sometimes—many times—when I listen to a certain bit of music, my wife has claimed I was born too late. No, I always say. I loved the years of my life because I get to appreciate the old music and discover the new. And that holds true for the rest of my life.
Born while Lyndon Johnson was president, I have now lived through ten presidential administrations. I have seen the ends of four decades (I don’t count the 1960s since I wasn’t aware of them) with one right around the corner. My early days were bathed in the 1970s: comics, Legos, Mego super-hero dolls, Disney on TV, records, books, riding bicycles far and wide, The Three Investigators, The Hardy Boys, and the two biggies from my childhood: KISS and Star Wars.
It’s hard to overstate how big a deal Star Wars was for me (and for just about every other kid my age). It was foundational, fundamental, and a way to see the world. With the first movie, the eight-year-old me learned about heroes. With Empire, the eleven-year-old me learned heroes don’t always win. Return of the Jedi taught me heroes triumph in the end, even at cost. Star Wars framed a certain way of viewing pop culture. It’s a frame I’ve expanded to include so much other stuff.
My childhood was analog. My youth straddled the analog and digital age. My college and grad school years saw the birth of the internet. My adult and career life saw technology unimaginable to that kid who watched Star Wars in 1977. I love being part of the bridge generation of technology. We know how great it is that we have a random feature on our phones to play thousands of songs yet also know the exquisite detail and precision of crafting a mix tape.
I’ve loved being a comic book geek my entire life. As great as it is now to have numerous comic book films per year, I loved being a fan in 1978 and 1989 when there was only one.
I’ve loved music so much. I enjoy playing saxophone in bands and marching for presidents. I still play my sax in church, my own offering to a gift God bestowed me. I loved discovering David Bowie as “who’s that other guy singing with Queen?” I loved discovering Chicago from my best friend, Chris, back in high school when he handed me a cassette of Chicago IX and saying, “I think you’ll like this.” I loved having my opinion of Bruce Springsteen turn around. And I’ve enjoyed living long enough for a band like The Struts to emerge and remind us how great rock and roll can be.
I loved witnessing the birth of the year 2000. That was always The Future in many SF books and comics. Now, it’s our past.
I loved living through so many moments of history, the good and the bad.
I love the huge amount of books I own that will never read. But who cares? I simply love books.
I loved growing up in west Houston, the suburbs. I loved that, when I moved back to Houston after grad school and took an apartment on Fountainview, a mere block away from my future wife’s condo, I considered it way in town. I love driving around Houston with my son, pointing out old things and relating memories. And I really love how Houston has grown to become a major metropolitan city, with a food culture rivaling few other cities.
When it comes to sports and being from Houston, well, we’ve not always had good luck. I’m old enough to be able to say “Renfro was in” and many folks of a certain age will agree with me and know what I’m talking about. I didn’t really love getting out of church one Sunday in 1993, seeing the Houston Oilers were up 35-3, and thinking “We got this.” I loved seeing the Houston Rockets win back-to-back championships, especially the second one. I really loved seeing the Houston Astros finally claim the first World Series title for this town.
But of all the things I cherish in my now fifty years of life, it really does come down to family. I have been blessed with parents who are the best parents I could have asked for. I have been blessed with a wife who compliments me in so many ways and keeps me grounded. And I have been blessed with a son who is a joy to laugh and play with, and who helped me remember many, many things from my own young life that time had papered over.
These are the years in which folks have their mid-life crises. I honestly think that stems from lives filled with regret. Here’s my outlook: everything that happened to me got me to this spot, right here, in front of our Christmas tree, on my fiftieth birthday. Every bad decision, every good decision, every bad event, every good event, everything along the path molded me, shaped me, and made me who I am. Would it have been nice to have skipped a few bad things? Maybe, but then I wouldn’t have received the good things in the same way I have. So I always come around to having no regrets. Besides, what good is regret? We can’t go back. So I just take stock of my life up to now and make any course corrections for the future.
One thing that does keep me excited and the midlife crisis at bay is the business of writing. It’s been about ten years now since I started writing in public, both the blogs and the stories. That keeps me young and fresh, to be honest. If I have any “regrets,” it’s that I didn’t start writing sooner. But I’m trying to catch up, and running my own business keeps me excited for the future. I really enjoy writing, and plan on continuing it for a long, long time.
Fifty years.
I started writing this yesterday, knowing I would complete it now, early morning on December 6. I kind of planned it that way.
I woke up this morning and smiled. Thanks, God. Another day of life. Fifty years of life.
Man, has it been awesome!
Monday, November 26, 2018
Superman the Movie: A Forty-Year Appreciation
"You’ve got me! Who’s got you?”
Is this the best line in a superhero movie? Forty years on, when I think of SUPERMAN: THE MOVIE, this is the first thing that comes to mind. And the helicopter rescue sequence associated with it. I waited in rapt attention for this scene because it is likely the quintessential Superman moment. It did not disappoint last night. In fact, as the goosebumps rippled over my arms, I got a tad emotional.
This was Superman.
The tagline of the movie was “You’ll believe a man could fly.” Here’s the thing with Christopher Reeve’s performance: You’ll believe he really is Superman. Maybe it was my ten-year-old self seeing this hero on the big screen for the first time, but of all the actors who have played Superman, Reeve is the one who made me believe it was actually a man from another planet. Who was also from Kansas. And it did it all with acting. No CGI. No special effects. Just Reeve, in costume, changing his voice and posture, making you believe Clark Kent and Superman were different people.
Speaking of Clark, Reeve sells himself as the bumbling country boy from Kansas to a T. I really loved his sly winks *to himself* when he, say, catches the bullet or when he shows up, as Clark, in Lois’s apartment after flying over the city with her as Superman. There’s a reason Reeve’s version of Clark is also probably the best out there…although Henry Cavill, if given a chance, could have done it well. But, again, he would be channeling Reeve, too.
He and Margot Kidder exudes chemistry. I really appreciate how she, in 1978, portrayed Lois Lane as a modern woman, smoker, working in a newsroom which had been a mostly males club for so long, but one who still needs a little help when she’s hanging out of a helicopter. She’s always out for the hustle, making sure she’s on the front lines. The rooftop interview scene is so good. You even get Superman basically falling in love with Lois on screen. Heck, both of them. And he’s not saving her from some giant robot. They are just talking and acting. Let’s be honest: in this day and age, when you have lots of side projects on TV, how cool would it have been to have had a Lois Lane TV show with Kidder?
I’m not sure who made the call—actor or director or scriptwriter—but, for my money, having Lex Luthor be humorous is genius. Yes, it’s likely a product of the times, but Gene Hackman’s portrayal of Luthor is probably the best. The only other one I truly enjoy is Clancy Brown’s sinister version in Superman: The Animated Series. But Hackman’s Luthor is sinister in his own way. When he delivers the line “By causing the deaths of innocent people,” you honestly believe it. I enjoyed seeing him make deductions and use his intelligence to figure out Superman’s weakness. Lastly, In an age when every aspect of a franchise has its own backstory, I don’t always need a backstory. But I would enjoy at least learning how Luthor and Otis got together.
Oh, is Ned Beatty’s Otis the only henchman in superhero movies who has his own theme song? It reminded me of the theme for Jabba the Hutt which would arrive five years later.
The music. John Williams was at the height of his powers in 1978. Star Wars and Close Encounters and Jaws were already under his belt. So were three Oscars. I haven’t heard the entire score is so long that it came out of the speakers fresh and new. Look, I know his Star Wars theme, his Raiders of the Lost Ark theme, and the ET flying theme are all good and light and positive, but is it possible to hear the Superman March without a grin on your face? I don’t think so. The Krypton music is eerie and otherworldly. The love theme is lush and romantic. And in sitting through the credits listening to the music, I found myself awash in greatness. I know there are folks who think Superman is the best soundtrack of Williams’s career. While I still hold Empire Strikes Back as my personal favorite (with Star Wars and Raiders close behind), I can certainly see their point.
On the subject of Krypton, I was again reminded of the very 70s-ness of it all. I have a great fondness of 70s SF films pre-Star Wars. The Krypton sequence fits perfectly in that pocket. Ditto for the flying sequence as Kal-El rockets off to earth. Oh, and the training montage.
As the opening credits rolled, I leaned over to my friend and said Superman: The Movie hit the jackpot with casting. Marlon Brando, of course, but Terrence Stamp, Glenn Ford, Jackie Cooper, Hackman, Beatty, Valerie Perrine, and Susannah York. To say nothing about then newcomers Reeve and Kidder. I can’t think of a single character who needed to be recast.
The first hour of the show is near perfection. We see Krypton, the trial and banishment of Zod, Ursa, and Nan (and the setting up of Superman II), and then the destruction of the planet. Now, forty years later, as a parent, the longing and desperation of Jor-El and Lara sending baby Kal into the void with only the hope that he would be safe is poignant. But the Smallville scenes? Holy cow. Those hit me. And those shots of Clark and Jonathan, his death, the funeral, and then Clark and Martha out in the field? You honestly forget you’re watching a superhero movie. Brilliant stuff.
Alas, the movie is not without its flaws. With an additional forty years of consuming stories—including writing my own—much of the latter half of the film is disjointed. It would have been so much better if there were words on screen like “Three week later…” or some such. As it is, the film comes off as almost happening in the same day. Which it doesn’t, but it feels that way.
But all that is nitpicking, especially when you get the best of both worlds: you get to see Superman doing super things—helping the bus on the bridge; making sure the railroad doesn’t derail; making a new dam—but then he turns back time and it’s all good. And with Luthor’s intelligence, you ever wonder if he figured out Superman changed time? Or would he merely realize his plans were foiled? Ditto for the other characters, too.
But that’s neither here nor there. They’re just fun things to ponder.
Forty years. Hard to believe and, yet, not. I was ten when I saw it in 1978. I’m nearly fifty now. Lots of life, lots of events, lots of other Superman stories, both in print and on screen. But this film remains a gold standard in superhero films and Superman films in particular. I’m keen on finding and watching the Donner cut of Superman II. I’ve never seen it, but always enjoyed Superman II. Superman The Movie is that perfectly placed film and story that straddles two eras: the Golden and Silver Age (and a little Bronze) of comics before the current era we’re in. It’s like a love letter to all that came before. From the vantage point of forty more years, it’s stature grows even more. Heck, as the credits rolled last night in the theater, applause erupted from the gathered few—young and old alike.
We now live in a golden age of superhero films. There’s nothing filmmakers cannot do when you couple their imagination with computer technology. Make no mistake: it’s awesome when we get to see Cavill’s version of Superman fly or punch Zod or slam into Doomsday. And I really enjoy The CW’s Superman as played by Tyler Hoechlin. And I watched Lois and Clark loving it…mostly. Didn’t watch Smallville.
But I think we can all agree that when you think of a live action Superman, one name comes to mind: Christopher Reeve. He was and is and will forever be Superman. He made me believe a man could fly in 1978. Forty years later, he still made me believe he’s the best Superman. And, despite its flaws, Superman The Movie is the best version of Superman on film.



