In refusing to just become another disabled statistic, he became an inspiration and a role model—not merely to other people who, through no fault of their own, were also in wheelchairs, but to everyone.
When he was in the hospital in Virginia, a picture of the space shuttle, autographed by its astronauts, gave him a focus, to be able to get up and aim for the stars. Now a picture of Chris, or an interview with him on television or in the press can have the same effect on someone else.
It would be overly easy to portray him as some kind of saint, who since his accident has dedicated himself to helping others through his speeches, his work for the American Paralysis Association, and his own foundation. But the truth is that Chris remains very human in his emotions. There’s still plenty of anger and frustration that he can’t move, that the things he can manage are limited. But it’s all become positively channeled into the fight to regain control of his body.
And the work he’s done has been as unstinting as anyone could expect from one person. Even when he’d rather relax at home—and every single day is a tiring regimen of physical therapy and exertion in one form or another—he’s gone out and honored every commitment, whether it was for himself or for charity.
Even when he’s had a full schedule of work, he’s continued to give his time and energy to the causes that are important to him.
The accident changed his life irrevocably. Chris had always been a very active man, a skier, flier, rider, diver, sailor. He has the photographs of himself doing those things on the mantelpiece to serve as reminders.
“Much has been lost,” he said. “But it doesn’t serve any purpose to dwell on it.”
There is a present, and most certainly a future, and those are the subjects he concentrates on—that he has to concentrate on. He has a loving family, whose support really has helped him through his crises, and as he regains movement, the idea of standing and then walking becomes even clearer in his mind.
But will he ever walk again? The doctors refuse to commit themselves, merely saying that it’s still too early to tell. The one certainty is that if Chris has any say in the matter, he will. If it comes down to a matter of will, he’ll be back on his feet. Those who complain that instead of campaigning for funding to find cures for spinal-cord trauma he should be crusading for disabled rights obviously don’t understand him very well. While their point is understandable, Chris is fighting for what he believes in. Some people, because of the way they became disabled, will never get out of a chair, and they do deserve equal rights. But Chris represents those who might walk, for whom there is hope. In talking about it, he’s raised the awareness of America with regard to the wheelchair-bound. But for as long as he lives, he’ll battle to get out of his own chair and remain on his own two feet.
Every day brings victories and battles. Twice during 1997, blood clots have sent him to the emergency room. His family endured tense hours wondering whether everything would be all right each time. His entire life has to be monitored.
At home, a wing has been added downstairs to allow Chris and Dana something approaching a normal life. In a king-size bed they can sleep together, under the glow of lights, as machines keep track of Chris.
They’ve discussed the possibility of another baby, and would like one, but there are already three kids to be thought about. This year the whole family, including Matthew and Alexandra, went to Walt Disney World, their first vacation together since the accident, and one which took an entire year to plan because of Chris’s special needs.
And when Dana needs to escape for a little while, she can sing in her car, or practice in her private soundproof studio above the garage.
For many, a Superman who was suddenly unable to move became the ultimate twisted irony. More than anyone besides an immediate family member, he could bring home to people how fragile the human body really is. If it could happen to him, then it really could happen to anyone … .
Chris had enjoyed the respect of many people for a number of years. He’d done the things that were important to him all the way through his career, all too often eschewing lucrative film roles to take juicy stage parts that he felt would challenge him as an actor. Yes, as even he admitted, he’d made some bad decisions along the way, which had caused his movie viability to go into decline, but they’d been his decisions, and he wasn’t afraid to take the responsibility for them. Unlike so many in the entertainment industry, he behaved like an adult. Where he’d erred, he was willing to shoulder the blame, not pass it on to some hapless other person. He’s always been a man in charge of his own life, who, in his early forties, had seemingly reconciled all the different facets of himself, a fully rounded and contented figure.
That, along with his articulate, thoughtful replies in interviews, and his other work, endeared him to people. He never went out of his way, for example, to highlight his trip to Chile, where he placed himself in danger for the sake of people he didn’t know, or his activism on behalf of the environment. Those were things he did because they needed to be done, not to advance the career of Christopher Reeve. In many ways he’d grown into the perfect New England gentleman, not tooting his own horn, but going quietly about his business, and performing it to the very best of his ability, no matter whether he was faced with good or appalling material.
The accident made him a more public figure than he’d been in almost twenty years, and the outpouring of sympathy showed just how much people genuinely liked Chris. To people at large he was a movie star, but also a real person, more than just someone on the screen. He’d made friends, not enemies, in the business, and they, too, showed him what they were made of.
But to his eternal credit, he claimed nothing for himself, although he could have. Instead, he asked people to look beyond him, to all the other people with spinal-cord injuries. Chris could have isolated himself, concentrated solely on trying to walk again, worked, and let the rest of the world go away. People would have understood that, somehow. Instead, he did the opposite. He quite happily became a figurehead, pushing himself to the limit to address groups and raise awareness even though there was nothing in it immediately for him.
More people in America now are aware of spinal-cord injuries and what they can do than at any time before, and it’s all due to Christopher Reeve. And the courage he’s shown, both in his own trial to free himself from the chair and his willingness to work for others, has simply increased the respect everyone has for him. He is, in the very best sense of the word, a gentleman.
It’s a shame that in his acting career—a career which definitely isn’t over yet—he’s found so few movie parts that really do him justice. But he was so perfectly cast in his first film that it was hard to go beyond that. It was a shame that so many of the things that seemed like good ideas ended up so poorly. Only in a handful of films was he able to show his potential; the rest were more or less just there.
Where he’s always shone is on the stage. It’s quite apparent, from the way he kept returning to it year after year, that his heart has lain there. The pay was nowhere near as good, but the satisfaction was much greater.
And for a while, Chris enjoyed the best of both worlds. He could really afford the lifestyle he wanted, be in a position to have his cake and eat it, too. Success came early, but it never went to his head. Indeed, by the time it started to fade, he’d achieved the kind of maturity he needed to be able to put his priorities in order. He’s been a craftsman, a man in love with acting, both in its practice and ideas, for whom performing isn’t confined to one thing. Whether it’s television, audio books, whatever, he’s taking part in the profession he cares about. He is what he always claimed to be, an actor, not a star.
He’s also been lucky in his relationships. With Gae, he had someone who was supportive of everything he did, and someone who was a fully formed person in her own right, with a vital career of her own. At that stage, that was exactly what he needed. The kids they had helped keep his feet on the ground when it would have been easy for
him to float on his own hype. They lived a good life together, with nannies and au pairs, but it was one that was well within their means.
With Dana, it seemed at first that he was simply going after someone who looked much like Gae, trying to replicate her. Instead, he found a woman who honestly seems to be his soul mate, whose love for him is unconditional, as is his for her. She, along with Will, has been his support, his rock, since the accident. She gave him the desire to live in those first few days. Their relationship has reached a new level, one that few get to experience. It continues to grow, and it was perfectly apparent to Barbara Walters when she visited the couple with their “true, shining love.”
In spite of all the tragedy, Christopher Reeve is a lucky man. He has a family that gives him everything, and he’s enjoyed, and continues to enjoy, a career that, for all its roller-coaster ups and downs, has offered plenty of satisfaction, with much more to come in the years ahead.
“My hope is for happiness, not for a cure,” said Dana. “Chris hopes very much for a cure, but I just want a life that’s full and joyful. Although there are tremendous strides in spinal-cord research, you never know. You never really know about anything.”
In adversity he’s had the chance to learn his own strength, and it’s proved to be enormous. Christopher Reeve has truly become a superman, and though no one will believe that he’ll fly, plenty, including himself, are utterly convinced that he’ll walk again.
Patients have confounded doctors before, and determination can be very strong medicine. Chris knows what he wants, and he’s doing everything he can to achieve his goal, not just for himself, but to try and give back to his family everything they’ve given him.
Really, it’s only what you’d expect from a man who, even at the height of his fame, never wanted to think of himself as a star in the traditional sense, and was willing to become part of the ensemble—indeed, he was usually much happier that way—rather than be singled out. He did whatever was best and necessary for the production. And the production that is always at the back of his mind now is walking, to play with Will, to stroll with Dana.
His options as a professional may have seemed to constrict since his accident, but in many ways they’ve been opened wide. Now he’s had the chance to direct, and quite successfully, an opportunity he’d been after for years, although no one seemed willing to take a chance on him then. There were a number of films Chris was involved in where he obviously suffered from bad direction; now he can make sure that doesn’t happen to anyone else. And with his connections, his years in the acting profession, he knows the big names. They respect his body of work, his knowledge, and would be pleased to work with him—as can already be seen from In the Gloaming. Instead of his own performance, now he can shape the whole vehicle.
That Chris will direct again seems inevitable, given the right script. It’s been a desire for too long for him to be sated by doing it only once. It keeps him involved, active, and that’s important. And it brings in an income, which is equally important.
He’s fought against the insurance cap as hard as he’s fought for anything, but as yet he hasn’t won. Soon his insurance will run out, which will leave him in a very difficult financial situation. Physically he’s improving, but he still needs as much attention and therapy as he did before. Confined to a chair, his resistance to infections like pneumonia is lower. If Robin Williams does cover his medical costs, as has been rumored, but never confirmed, it would be a huge worry off his mind. If not, then he has another hurdle to face, and another reason to get out of his chair.
Will he do it?
If it’s humanly possible, he will. Chris is not just a brave man, he’s someone who refuses to accept the idea of defeat in this, or in anything regarding his life. He’s showing us what people at their best can be, which is one reason everyone roots for him in his fight, and he deserves all the support we can offer him.
He’s a gentleman, and a superhero. But above all, he’s Christopher Reeve.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, I’m indebted to my agent, Madeleine Morel, who surely deserves a place in the agents’ pantheon. Tom Dunne, my editor, has been a complete gentleman, and his assistant, Hannah Thomson, also deserves kudos. But thanks go beyond the professionals to those family and friends who offered snippets of information, advice, and plenty of support, as they always do. Without Ray and Betty Nickson, nothing would have been possible. Every time I sit down to write, I realize how much I owe you. Bob and Florence Hornberg, not just for Linda, but for keeping the cuttings coming. To friends around the globe—Thom and Tracey Atkinson, Mike Murtagh, Michael Chapman, Dennis Wilken, Jonathon and Judy Savill, Paul Clark, the members of the LUFC Internet List. Believe me, I appreciate you all. In Seattle, the marvelous Stephanie Ogle at Cinema Bookshop. Louise Oullette-Bolduc, for the translation from the French. That’s the tip of the iceberg. There are others too numerous to mention, and you all know who you are.
Last, but very far from least, Linda and Graham. The love is palpable, and every bit of it is returned to you both.
Full credit, too, to the sources that have helped make this book complete. “Christopher Reeve—A Superman Who’s Only Human” by Carol Tavris (Mademoiselle, October 1980). “The Arts” by Jeff Rovin (Omni, 1980). “Christopher Reeve—Lights, Camera, Airplane” by Richard Collins (Flying, March 1981). “His Working Process Is More Tortured Than Mine” by Alice Kellogg (TV Guide, March 23, 1985). “L’Hero” by Guy Delcourt (Starfix, 1983). “A Down-to-Earth Actor … A Soaring Superstar” by Linda E. Watson (Teen Magazine, June 1983). “Who Fascinates Barbara Most?” by Melina Gerosa (Ladies Home Journal, April 1996). “We Draw Strength from Each Other” by Liz Smith (Good Housekeeping, June 1996). “He Will Not Be Broken” by Michelle Green (People, April 15, 1996). “Local Hero” by Karen S. Schneider (People, January 27, 1997). “Eat Your Heart Out, Lois” by Jeannie Park (People, April 20, 1996). “A New Direction” by Steve Daly (Entertainment Weekly, November 15, 1996). “Christopher’s Mettle” by Steve Daly (Entertainment Weekly, April 11, 1997). “Christopher Reeve” by Elliott Forrest (A&E Monthly, October 1995). “Superman’s Doctor” by Susan Reed (People, August 7, 1995). “The Will to Live” (People, June 26, 1995). “Fallen Rider” by Gregory Cerio (People, June 12, 1995). “A Tragic Fall for Superman” by Kendall Hamilton and Alden Cohen (Newsweek, June 12, 1995). “Friends, Indeed” (People, October 30, 1995). “Christopher Reeve” (People, December 25, 1995). “Woman of Steel” by Joanna Powell ( Good Housekeeping, August 1997).
The Christopher Reeve Foundation can be contacted at PO Box 277, FDR Station, New York, NY 10150-0277.
ALSO BY CHRIS NICKSON
Emma: The Many Faces of Emma Thompson
Melissa Etheridge
Denzel Washington
Go, Ricki!
The X-Factor: David Duchovny
Keanu Reeves
Brad Pitt
Soundgarden: New Metal Crown
Mariah Carey: Her Story
CREDITS
FILM
1978
Gray Lady Down
Superman: The Movie
1980
Somewhere in Time
1981
Superman II
1982
Deathtrap
Monsignor
1983
Superman III
1984
The Bostonians
1985
The Aviator
1987
Street Smart
Superman IV: The Quest for Peace
1988
Switching Channels
1992
Noises Off
1993
Morning Glory
The Remains of the Day
1994
Speechless
1995
Village of the Damned
1998
The Quest for Camelot (animated, voice of King Arthur)
THEATER
1976
A Matter
of Gravity
1977
My Life
1980
Fifth of July
1981
The Greeks
1983
Holiday
1984
The Aspern Papers
1985
The Royal Family
The Marriage of Figaro
1986
Summer and Smoke
1987
The Rover
1988
Summer and Smoke
1989
The Winter’s Tale
John Brown’s Body
1990
Love Letters
Death Takes a Holiday
1992
The Guardsman
1993
The Shadow Box (staged reading)
TELEVISION
Love of Life
The Muppet Show
I Love Liberty
Celebrity Daredevils
Faerie Tale Theater
Vincent, A Dutchman
Anna Karenina
Juilliard at Eighty
Night of 100 Stars III
American Portrait, Robert Goddard
Superhero Page 22
