Warm Nuclear Memories*

*not like that

The other morning while scrolling on YouTube, or surfing the “Information Superhighway” as Clive James might have called it, I came across a video giving a supreme kicking to the sadly much maligned and accursed Superman IV: The Quest for Peace. I at once and quite immediately felt offended. Wronged. Affronted. Cross. Knowing what strife, humiliation and pain is wedged into the flabby suit of that film, It felt needlessly mean, like I’d come across a video of someone mocking a disabled man trying to go about his day. It made me stop and wonder just why it is I have so much affection for a deeply flawed, and lets’ face it “quite shit” film.

Superman IV: The Quest for Peace came out when I was a ten year old chap. I was by then a huge fan of film, or “movies” as Americans call them, with my main passion being Bond ones, but I was also in love with Christopher Reeve’s turn as the Man of Steel. As I mention in Superbook, I had the special Superman pyjamas with buttons on the shoulders so you could affix the cape should you wish - and I wished. I would run around the house tooting the Superman theme while the cape flapped behind my stupid head.

My Superman pyjamas circa 1982

So when the time came for Superman’s forth adventure, I was so ready. I had watched and consumed every piece of exciting behind the scenes media going, with the Johnny Ball set visit being the one that sits in my head above all others. Particularly as it was a visit to observe the shooting of an entire sequence that was cut from the film.

My Dad took me to Superman IV: The Quest for Peace at the Cannon Cinema in Watford - a cinema that was affectionally referred to by all of the townsfolk as “The Fleapit”, because it was a bit of a shit-hole that looked more like a fallout shelter than a working cinema. However I saw many a “hit” here, and if you observe the alleyway below to the right, you will see the very alley where friends and I would excitedly queue to be let in on various occasions. This was also the alley where a schoolfriend of mine discovered that he could get in via the fire escape and see films for free, like his own personal Narnia wardrobe. He would boast of slipping in and waiting by the toilets until people came in, and then take his seat in the dark. This was something I was never brave enough to do as I was a massive coward when it came to rule breaking, also the cinema had a terrifying usher at the time who had a torch and knew how to use it.

“The Fleapit”, Watford. In better days.

As my Dad and I walked down the long stretch of Market Street on the way to the ‘Fleapit’ my mind was racing with that beautiful potion that swirls and manifests that unique alchemy that only a trip to the cinema can seem to manage. I’d seen all the clips, sure, but the very idea of seeing them all stitched together in a finished film was always something that I found deeply magical (and still do on occasion). I probably bored my poor Dad stupid with facts and trivia on the way, as was my want in those days with my main hobby being “not shutting the fuck up”.

As I sat in the dark and essentially watched poor Christopher Reeve push a big ball of shit up a greasy hill, I was in awe. I didn’t care that it was bad. I didn’t care that the effects were terrible. I just loved the magic, the excitement and the complete stupidity of it all. In fact my abiding memory of seeing this film is going for a wee during the sequence where Nuclear Man is created, as I simply couldn’t hold it in anymore, and as I returned in the dark to my poor locked-in dad, who was sat there having to watch this, I whispered “Did I miss anything?”, only for him to quietly mutter, with extreme resignation in his voice, “Nope”.

As I left the cinema that sunny day and walked back to the town centre with my dad, I felt hope. I felt joy. I felt the theme running through my body.

Of course time has gone by and I am now nearly fifty, but it still works for me. I still love it like a lame puppy. Funnily enough I put it on during Christmas Eve and still had a great time.

I salute you Superman IV. I love you. In fact I’m just a man standing in front of Superman IV asking it to love me too, and you know what, I think in a strange way, it does.

As I say in Superbook: As the beautiful theme begins to exquisitely manoeuvre into place, the same old end segment from the first film whirs into life, with the beautifully lit Superman from 1978 looking down over the world, and smiling at the audience, almost thanking them for watching this, and apologising via the medium of a superior film.

If Superman IV had been a success, Reeve was apparently told by the producers he could direct the next chapter, though whether he would have wanted to is another matter. As it happens Superman IV was not well received in any capacity, and put the final nail in the coffin of the man from Krypton, though it didn’t stop Cannon going to Cannes the following year with a poster promising a “Superman V” that thankfully never came to pass as within a few years they’d cease to exist.

I salute you Superman IV : The Quest for Peace, yes, you are absolutely terrible, and by far one of the worst superhero films ever made, but there’s a charm in there, supplied by Hackman and Reeve, that’s covers it with a sheen of goodwill that puts it just above disaster, and well within the realms of a misguided and well intentioned mistake.

While I’m sharing clips, the Film 87 set visit also jumps to mind.

**Also forgot to mention that I was doubly excited to see the film as my friend was in it!! I grew up near an American base, and at the weekends we would often end up hanging out with American army base kids, one of whom was Damian McLawhorn (Jeremy from Superman IV: The Quest for Peace).

Also as I was about to post this, Oliver Harper, a man equally as fascinated with this thing as I am, has just done a video all about it. Because when you really look at it, it's just one world.