Misunderstood Masterpieces: Superman IV: The Quest For Peace
Posted by Will Helm on 11.04.2003
…or, Fear the Awesome Power That Is Jon Cryer
Ah, the 1980s. As we studied before, the Cold War was in full effect, fashions were garish and fluorescent, and nuclear proliferation was the greatest fear of the educated masses. There is a certain irony, looking back 15-or-so years, in the fact that the majority of the world populous feared a quantum-fueled apocalypse while wearing clothes that looked like they were radioactive. Benneton be damned! Who could rescue the world from it’s own undoing? We had our dubious heroes of the time: Ronald Reagan, Oliver North, somebody else, Mookie Wilson, and a guy named Dave. There were many who could claim to be the earth’s savior, but only one being could make that claim truth: the last son of Krypton . . . Superman!
Yes, in the planet’s darkest hour, as the nuclear arms race reached the boiling point, threatening to bubble over, the only hero capable of putting an end to all of the MAD-ness was a fictional character who dressed in a blue leotard, red briefs, and a red cape tucked into his shirt. Makes you feel all patriotic and noble, doesn’t it? Yeah . . . me neither. But, in the minds of Lawrence Konner, Mark Rosenthal, and Christopher Reeve, it should have, as they wrote the story behind Superman’s fourth cinematic adventure: Superman IV: The Quest for Peace. After making the world go back in time by reversing the spin on its axis, defeating the Kryptonians from the Phantom Zone (in what is by far the best film of the series, I might add), and then ridding the world of the combined threat of Robert Vaughn and Richard Pryor, the only thing left for the Man of Steel to tackle must be nuclear armament. No, I do not understand that logic either. I would’ve brought back Zod, honestly. He was much cooler than an ICBM.
Anyway, the film wastes little time in being overblown by using the credit “Initiated by.” What does this mean? Anyone, anyone . . . Bueller? Bueller? Is this the studio executive who said “OK” to this picture? I can just imagine Reeve, Konner, and Rosenthal sitting around at lunch one day talking about the movie and the guy at the next table eavesdropping. He says to them “you should do it” and that’s good enough for billing in Hollywood. The sad part is that it could very well be true. Of course, another sad truth is that these may very well be the world’s longest opening credits, and that’s taking into consideration the old days when ALL the credits were before the feature, not after. There’s only so much of random people’s names flying around from behind the Earth that you can take . . . along with that “whoosh” sound. Ugh!
After a seeming eternity of floating credits, we’re reminded it’s the ‘80s as we cut to a mysterious Soviet space station, where some unlucky cosmonaut, who must’ve picked the short straw, is out doing a space walk and repairing the shoddy Communist workmanship. He serenades his crew and comrades (and, sadly, us) with some terribly off-key Sinatra in Russian. Ah, there’s nothing like the dulcet tones of a Slavic language. Unfortunately for the crooning Rooskie, a loose piece of the Millennium Falcon hurtles in his general direction! It strikes the Commie space station and knocks Yuri Sinatra off into space! I’ll be damned . . . there’s TENSION! All is resolved, however, when Superman (Reeve), the crusader for Truth, Justice, and the American Way, introduces us and the world to a little bit of superhero glasnost by rescuing the hapless cosmonaut and returning him to the ship. Sadly, Supes doesn’t proselytize on the dangers and perils of a mock-Socialist oligarchy. I guess political science never was his strong suit. It’s his loss.
Down in the sleepy little “town” of Smallville, which appears to be just a farmhouse, a barn, and a dirt road, Clark Kent is pensive. Here he is at the home of his earthly childhood and the only thing he can think to do is visit his lovely space capsule buried in a shallow grave in the barn. You’d think he’d much rather rub it in the face of all the jocks in town who mocked him when he was younger that now he’s a big shot city reporter and close personal friends with Superman. I guess he’s not the vengeful type like that. The space capsule talks to Clark, because that’s what all space capsules do, and gives him the Awesome Green Kryptonian Rod of Power™. I hear that the rod is in the same union as the rod that was employee of the month over at the Springfield power plant. It’s Rod and Doohickey Local 1138 . . . the dues are a bit steep, but the health benefits make it all worthwhile. After Clark pockets the emerald-colored stick, some cowboy guy drives up to the Kent homestead. It seems that he’s representing some developers who are interested in buying the Kent estate, but conscientious Clark only wants to sell to farmers, not builders. I can’t stand people like this standing in the way of PROGRESS! It’s just against the American way. After a minute or two of deliberation, they play baseball. Because that makes sense. Clark, intelligent alter-ego that he is, plays buffoon for the shady real-estate agent, but then smacks a home run into orbit once the guy leaves. Sadly, word is that it struck the Russian space station and killed all on board. Smooth moving, Ex-Lax.
Meanwhile, somewhere very dusty, arch-villain extraordinaire Lex Luthor (the always awesome Gene Hackman) whistles Mozart and tends a miniscule flower garden while laboring away as part of a chain gang. While the other Neanderthals chip away at rocks and boulders, Lex pontificates on the efficacy of biogenetics; it seems he must’ve been studying it at the ultra-modern prison in which he is incarcerated. At least I assume it’s “ultra-modern” . . . it could always be neo-Victorian or pseudo-Bauhaus. But it does have one killer library. Speaking of “The Killer,” an absurdly modified car playing Jerry Lee Lewis drives up to the chain gang, its fashion-victim driver looking for directions to somewhere inconsequential. This is all a ruse however, as the Valley Boy-speaking pilot is none other than Lenny (Jon Cryer), Lex Luthor’s technologically advanced but mentally deficient nephew. While we know just what’s going on, the bumbling guards are unaware, as they fall victim to Lenny’s trap . . . and survive a gruesome car wreck. I mean, I don’t know about you, but one would expect at least a scratch or bruise when the car you’re sitting in is launched about fifty feet in the air and lands on it’s roof – and I think it exploded as well. Then again, I could be wrong.
What I’m almost certain I’m not wrong about is the ill-conceived addition of Lex Luthor’s pointless nephew. Is he there for patently unfunny comic relief? I mean, he’s supposedly well skilled in machinery and such, yet he just bumbles along after being introduced to the viewer. Perhaps Lenny, portrayed by Mr. Cryer, who was once a member of the John Hughes Repertory Theatre, is an allegorical stand in for all of us, an unwitting accomplice to villainy through our own ignorance. Or not. I would’ve expected more from Jon Cryer, star of many failed sitcoms, though; he was absolutely brilliant in Morgan Stewart’s Coming Home, and who could ever forget his gripping role as Duckie in the masterwork Pretty in Pink? Wait . . . what am I saying? I mean, Morgan Stewart’s Coming Home wasn’t that bad, albeit formulaic, but Pretty in Pink? Really, man . . . what’s come over you!
Internal monologues aside, the scene shifts to the roaring, bustling metropolis of Metropolis. Intrepid and daring reporter Lois Lane (Margot Kidder) rides the subway while practicing French for no discernable reason. The little trip takes a turn for the worse when the conductor has an indeterminate medical ailment and slumps over, causing the train to hurtle out of control! Of course, just because he is the only superhero in Metropolis and never needs any help or anything, Superman is there to save the day once again. He’s even kind enough to provide a public service announcement on the safety of mass transit . . . even though the circumstances seem rather pandering and insincere. Of course, that could just be my opinion; I’m cynical like that. Over at the Daily Planet, the only newspaper of record in this fictional universe, sleazy tabloid magnate David Warfield (Sam Wanamaker) has taken over the Planet, causing great TENSION with straight-shooting legitimate journalist and Editor-in-chief Perry White (Jackie Cooper). Of course, this all becomes moot as Warfield replaces White with his silver-spangled and garishly clad daughter, Lacy (Mariel Hemingway).
After the management shake-up, the inexorable silence of the scene is broken by the President, who grimly advocates nuclear proliferation. Isn’t that nice of him? You have to give the Prez credit, though; he could have just bought and/or made a bunch of nuclear arms without announcing it to the country and the world. Of course, he could be bluffing. Using the President’s announcement as a segue, we visit some random classroom in some random American town, where the stereotypically disheartened-yet-perky teacher asks the class for their opinions on the political climate of the age. Might I add that this is a fourth-grade class? Anyway, some of the ideas are the usual insipid drivel; happily there is no mention of unicorns. And then there’s Jeremy (Damien McLawhorn), class daydreamer, who suggests that the world ask Superman for help. Yeah, that makes sense. Then again, the concept of a guy who is impervious to everything except certain rocks is never questioned in this world either. Logic and comic book movies do not go hand in hand.
At the Metropolis Museum, a tour guide explains to her group that Superman has donated a strand of Superhair to the institution and there’s a thousand-pound weight suspended from it. Hmm . . . I wonder if he had that lopped off at Supercuts? Anyway, Lex and Lenny, going incognito as part of the tour group, stay behind to inconspicuously smash the glass case housing the hair, snip it with a pair of bolt cutters (which makes the rather light thousand-pound weight fall to the floor), and get out of Dodge. Those Luthors were never ones for subtlety. Back at the Daily Planet, Lacy, for reasons unbeknownst to Western civilization, hits on Clark in the guise of proposing co-authorship of a “Metropolis After Hours” column for the “New and Improved (and Salacious) Daily Planet.” I can just see it now: Clark Kent regularly reviews the brothels and coffeehouses in every edition of the newspaper. Oh, wait . . . this is Metropolis, not Amsterdam. While Lacy fruitlessly attempts to flirt with Clark, Lois thankfully interrupts with annoying Jeremy’s letter, which leads to his becoming a celebrity for no real important reason. Ah, fame . . . we all know Jeremy will end up drug-addled and broke in a few weeks anyway, once his fifteen minutes are up. Warhol would be proud. In search of some sort of muckraking angle for the Jeremy saga, the “New and Improved (and Scandalous) Daily Planet” knowingly, with malice and forethought, libels Superman. Superman, however, is unmoved . . . he knows that bad PR is better than no PR.
Actually, Superman may very well be unaware of all the hubbub and rigmarole going on back in Metropolis, as he’s off at the Fortress of Solitude getting some much needed . . . solitude. No word on if there are any fierce polar bears guarding the place; I’ll keep you posted. Superman visits his Antarctic abode to converse with some talking heads from his former planet. I never knew David Byrne was Kryptonian, by the way. While Superman wishes to help the world with its nuclear problems, the Kryptonian apparitions council him to fear betrayal . . . BETRAYAL . . . BETRAYAL! Ahem. In Metropolis once again, we learn that the Russian premiere also wants more bombs, just because he’s jealous of us Americans. Silly rabbit. Lois takes time to comfort Clark and you can cut the sexual tension with a baseball bat. Clark, in a fit of bipolar depression, jumps off the roof of his building hand-in-hand with Lois, and then Clark begins to accelerate faster than Lois! Newton would not be proud!
Clark, who has now fallen off the screen, is quickly replaced by Superman, who, as always, saves the day. It also seems that Superman is a bit of a cad, as he takes Lois on a world tour and terrorizes her in the name of fun by letting go of her in midair. Just wait until she accidentally slams into the side of a mountain, Supes. You can only make the Earth spin backwards to reverse time SO many times. When it’s all over, just to make sure Lois forgets everything that just went on, Superman uses some sort of Jedi mind trick to induce amnesia. It’s a good thing he’s a hero with a power like that. He could get rid of eyewitnesses very easily if he wanted to. Anyway, after the little vacation, Superman flies triumphantly into Metropolis to meet with little Jeremy and makes sure to have Jimmy Olsen (Marc McClure) in tow. Why? Well, they’re all going to the United Nations, of course! Superman . . . what a media whore. During the whole procession into the UN chambers, everyone applauds the Man of Steel as if he’s some kind of conquering hero. Meanwhile, I wonder if he has any jurisdiction whatsoever considering that he IS an alien, perhaps even an illegal alien. Here, Superman finally unveils his grand scheme: he will rid the world of nuclear arms – with his IRON FIST OF POWER!
Oh . . . wait. It seems that Superman’s plan is merely to allow all of the armed nations of the world to fire their missiles into space, where he catches them and places them gingerly into a GIANT NET! You have really got to be kidding me. Who in the world has a giant net just sitting around? And something that complicated would have to take quite a few months to manufacture as well. Unless, of course, it’s made from Superhair. Anyway, it just might be, as, after collecting the bulk of the rockets, Superman ties up the free ends of the net and then hammer-throws the entire thing into the sun! Whatever, Superman . . . whatever.
While all of this silliness is going on, the newly freed Lex Luthor hobnobs with a trio of psychotic arms dealers, specifically Harry Howler (William Hootkins, a.k.a. the fat guy who blew up first in Star Wars), General Romoff (Stanley Lebor), and Jean Pierre Dubois (a relatively young Jim Broadbent). Our favorite evil villain proposes to those assembled a plan to use the awesome power of the sun for their own sinister ends. Ah . . . solar powered villains. How modern and environmentally conscious! Later, Lex and Lenny cook up some genetic goo made from Superman’s hair and place it into a lunchbox. I hope it doesn’t contain any peanuts; that could hurt someone! Some indeterminate time later, Lex, disguised as a general or something, sneaks into an Army launch bunker and prematurely fires a nuclear missile . . . which has the biogenetic lunchbox attached! Superman, timely as always, catches the rocket and hurls it, end over end, into the sun. I guess he didn’t have time to show off and throw it with a perfect spiral. Moments after the plasma-induced incineration of the missile, a super evil sun guy (Mark Pillow) pops out . . . with long gold fingernails. Because a garish manicure always signals EVIL!
Back in Metropolis, Clark and Lacy go to the gym, where a smarmy personal trainer patronizes Clark. Later, in retaliation, Clark throws a barbell at the guy. What a hero! While all that weight tossing is going on, the evil sun guy comes to Earth! Lex, proud papa that he is, immediately christens his new champion “Nuclear Man.” Um . . . “Nuclear Man”? They couldn’t come up with something a wee bit more original than that? Then again, I suppose it is better than “Evil Sun Guy,” so I have no room to talk. Nuclear Man, disconcertingly, speaks with Lex Luthor’s voice and shares his creator’s penchant for megalomania. That apple didn’t fall far from that tree, I suppose. Nuclear Man, he of the shiny gold fingernails, proves his worth and masculinity by harassing Lenny and making him spin around uncontrollably. Ooh . . . scary. Lex puts an end to the revelry by closing the blinds, incapacitating Nuclear Man, who is powered by the sun. Ah . . . so maybe “Evil Sun Guy” isn’t too far off after all.
Elsewhere in Metropolis, Lois and Lacy bond in one of those good girl/bad girl things. What I mean is that sometimes a somewhat good girl befriends a bad girl just to make herself look better. I think you need two X-chromosomes to fully understand, because I really don’t get it. Anyway, Clark shows up to the party and bumbles around for a few minutes, and then leaves just as quickly. In his wake, Superman shows up, chats with Lois for a few minutes, and then uses his heat vision to cook Lois’ food. When she goes to check on it, he bails. He’s really conniving like that. Down in the lobby, Clark meets up with Lacy, she refers to him as “delicious,” and he uses an opportune moment to bail on her. Predictably, Superman returns while Lois brags about her duck and gets all mushy and gushy. Superman, who must be feeling uncomfortable with Lois’ advances, exits once again and, just as quickly, Clark returns. This is like something out of Comedy of Errors or something.
Luckily for all of us, Lex Luthor calls up to put an end to all of this Shakespeare-infused tomfoolery. Lex has a little present for Superman: a bomb threat! It’s all a ruse, however, as, when Superman shows up to Lex’s fine penthouse apartment (he must’ve been investing very wisely while in prison), he and Nuclear Man tussle. Nuclear Man, crafty solar-powered supervillain that he is, makes a beeline to the Great Wall of China and proceeds to blow up a good chunk of it. Luckily for all on hand, Superman uses his powerful masonry-vision to repair the destroyed parts of the structure. Nuclear Man, unimpressed with Superman’s bricklaying blasts, freezes his rival in a nicely faceted block of ice and then drills into Mt. Vesuvius, causing an eruption. Superman escapes his icy prison and cuts the top off of a mountain to plug the churning volcano; he then blows powerfully on the lava to harden it . . . or is it magma? I always get that confused. In space, Superman and Nuclear Man have a catfight, which Nuclear Man seemingly wins. He then travels to the Statue of Liberty, which happens to be in Metropolis, picks it up off of its base, and drops it over the city. Superman, as always, makes the save . . . but it was all for naught, as the falling structure is merely a distraction for the awesome power of Nuclear Man’s golden fingernails! The vicious scratch incapacitates Superman, who is then unceremoniously punted into space by Nuclear Man.
I bet, a this point, you’re probably in the mood for some corporate maneuverings; if you are, that’s a good thing, as Mr. Warfield names Lacy the new publisher of the “New and Improved (and Sexy) Daily Planet.” Lois Lane, put off by the blatant display of nepotism, quits the paper, leading Lacy to tell off her father, as the scion of the tycoon is now sympathetic to journalistic ideals. Meanwhile, Clark is sequestered in his apartment with a case of the radioactive flu. The now-unemployed Lois goes for a visit and gives Superman a pep talk via Clark . . . which somehow devolves into Lois baring her soul and having a nervous breakdown. Elsewhere, a triumphant Lex fires his erstwhile business partners. Hopefully they had a good severance package.
Clark, seeing no other option, finally uses the Awesome Green Kryptonian Rod of Power™ to rejuvenate himself. Nuclear Man, now left to his own devices, falls head-over-heels for Lacy and makes it his duty to forcefully court her. Luckily for Lacy, Superman makes his return from the perils of nuclear influenza to run defense outside of the Daily Planet Building. Nuclear Man harnesses the awesome power of sexual frustration and starts blowing things up and spinning things around. Superman baits Nuclear Man with promises of carnal satisfaction and leads him into an empty elevator, which Superman takes to the moon. Unfortunately for Superman, he forgot to study astronomy, as the sun shines on the elevator, recharging Nuclear Man. Superman and the solar-powered bad guy fight again, this time on the surface of the moon. Ah, there’s nothing like a slow motion wrestling match in lieu of a dynamic fight scene. Nuclear Man, showing off his great intelligence, comically nails Superman into the surface of the moon and returns to Earth once more.
Back in Metropolis, Lacy rails against the horrors of yellow journalism and then is kidnapped by Nuclear Man. Thankfully, Superman escapes from the moon dirt to intercept Nuclear Man and Lacy . . . FLYING THROUGH SPACE! Um . . . how is it that she can survive that? I can understand Superman and Nuclear Man, but she’s just a normal human. Or is she? Just when I was busy pondering the effects of a vacuum on human physiology, Superman takes the junk science up one better by moving the moon in front of the sun, causing a solar eclipse which weakens Nuclear Man! Forget about the tidal effects on the Earth’s bodies of water, if you will. It seems that Superman did. Anyway, Superman seizes the opportunity and throws the limp body of Nuclear Man into a nuclear reactor, converting him into a harmless power surge. Whatever, movie . . . whatever.
In the aftermath, a wily Perry White swallows a poison pill for the Daily Planet and buys it out from under Mr. Warfield. There is much rejoicing, but there’s even more rejoicing when Superman gives a press conference . . . and admits that aliens really exist! Or not. He finally captures Lex and Lenny, sending the younger Luthor to Boy’s Town for some re-education; Lex, meanwhile, goes back to the now-cultured chain gang for a twenty-year stretch. Only twenty years?!? The man has threatened the wellbeing of the entire world on numerous occasions and the maximum sentence garnered is twenty years! In what bizarro world is this? Superman, in a last act of altruism, fixes the toppled American flag on the moon and that’s the end! Goodbye, cruel movie.
You know something? I really don’t fault Christopher Reeve for trying. There’s nothing at all wrong with altruism, with noble causes. I’ll be the first to admit that nuclear proliferation and the abundance of arms around the world is a serious issue. The real problem is that the end product ends up being patronizing and childish, as if all the world’s problems can be solved by the intercession of a nigh-invulnerable alien in blue tights. On second thought . . . perhaps that is possible. Or not.
Check out the column next week, as we learn that no one is safe from having a Misunderstood Masterpiece.
