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| Christopher Reeves, his partner Gae and their Children. 1984 Getty images |
In interviews, they’ve shared how his accident reshaped their family dynamics. Reeve’s determination to advocate for spinal cord injury research and disability rights inspired them and many others. They’ve highlighted the importance of love and support during difficult times, emphasizing how their father taught them to find strength in adversity.
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| Mathew, Alexandra and Will. At Superman Film Festival in London |
Matthew, Alexandra and Will continue to honor his memory through advocacy work, focusing on issues related to disability rights and health research, keeping his spirit alive in their own ways. Their reflections often underscore themes of hope, perseverance, and the lasting bond of family, showcasing how love can endure even in the face of loss.
Twenty years after their father died, his children are ready to tell his extraordinary story – from playing Superman to protesting against Pinochet, transforming disability rights and being a beloved parent and friend.
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| Reeve and wife Dana, plus Mathew, Alexandra and Will. Shuttershock 1996 |
It’s 20 years since Reeve died, 29 years since he broke his neck after being thrown from his horse, and 46 years since the first of his four Superman films came out. That film broke any number of box-office records and made Reeve a global star. Nobody mastered the screwball comedy of Superman and his bumbling alter ego reporter Clark Kent as convincingly as Reeve.
By the time he died, nine years after he was paralysed from the neck down, we realised that Reeve had a touch of Superman himself. But we didn’t know what a complex man he was. Now a new documentary, featuring his children and numerous household names, chronicles his life in all its intricate layers. The film has just had its British premiere at the London film festival, and we are meeting at a London hotel to chat about it. While Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story documents a unique individual, it also provides lessons for all of us. To distil it to its essence, how do we cope when the shit really hits the fan?
