Trying to kill off Superman | PIOTR GZOWSKI

What you are about to read is almost completely true. If the characters resemble real persons, it is because they were real persons. However, the names have been encrypted to protect the guilty.

It was February of second semester at Fordham University, Bronx NY, in the latter half of the last millennium before the age of internet, when a college student could still buy a mug of beer at the Blarney Stone on Webster Avenue for twenty-five cents. The Mimes and Mummers, Fordham’s drama society was about to stage their version of the Broadway musical Superman and perform something that no other college drama club in the area had ever attempted - to fly an actor across the stage just like on Broadway.

It was a Tuesday two and a half weeks before the opening night. Everything was set to go except for one thing. The flying rig that was to convey Superman across the stage was not 100% .

(A brief explanation of the flying rig at Fordham. – The mechanism was based on the concept of weight distribution. Under the catwalks the actor was attached to a dolly from the flying harness by two cables. On the other end, the dolly was attached to the counterweights calibrated to the actor’s weight. As the counterweights dropped the actor rose, and as the counterweights rose the actor dropped. It was all based on proper equilibrium)

Rich K and Tony G, the student special effects technicians, had spent months designing and then building the flying rig, however, the pulley system for the counterweights still snagged. The cables that were to suspend Richard, the star of Superman, had not yet been installed and a length of strong curtain rope acted as a substitute for setting the counterweights. Furthermore, the entire mechanism had yet to be tested on a live person. But the two “student engineers” assured Gerald P, the producer, that it was “Going to be unbelievable!” Coco, the director, on the other hand, was nervous , and when he became nervous, he was irritable, and when he was irritated, he irritated Gerald P. “Two and a half weeks, Gerald! Two and a half weeks! Superman still hasn’t left the ground!” To which Coco’s assistant, the costume designer/creator, crooned in with “That’s right! AND we have, as of YET, to test the Superman costume in the air to make sure the harness works and the cape drapes correctly, GERALD!” Gerald P, however, always knew how to diffuse their temperaments by assuring them that they were absolutely right.

At the Tuesday afternoon production meeting he polled the staff as to the whether the rig was safe enough to attempt a suspension test with Richard, in full costume, that evening. Rich K and Tony G felt that if it were just a matter of suspending Richard a few feet off the ground, and if Richard didn’t jiggle the rope, it was feasible. I seconded the motion. Sam M, my best friend, a master of sarcasm, chimed in with “ Sure, why not? If we kill him, we still have an understudy.” The final consensus was to run the “test” that evening.

A few hours later, Richard, in full Superman regalia, was attached to the flying rig by the substitute rope. Rich K and Tony G staffed the counterweight pulley, the remainder of us took seats in the front row of the house. Richard, however, seemed a bit anxious. (What Richard had intentionally failed to disclose to anyone, from first auditions up until this very moment, was that he had a deathly fear of heights, any heights. Standing on a chair unsettled him. However, the thought of playing Superman, someone who actually flew on and off the stage in full view , would undoubtedly impress the ladies, and Richard was a notorious ladies’ man. Furthermore, he was confident that his talent would compensate for the fear. So, he kept mum about it.)

Richard was lifted off the ground about a half foot. The pulley snagged. Rich K and Tony G gave the pulley a hefty tug. Suddenly, Richard vaulted up from a few inches to about ten feet. His eyes burst wide open. His body stiffened and he emitted a barely audible whimper. Nevertheless, the harness held. The costume looked magnificent. Everyone was both relieved and pleased and applauded enthusiastically. Richard, on the other hand, hovered there silent, frozen stiff, his eyes large as moons, like a lifeless marionette.

“Okay, Richard !” said Coco “spread the cape, assume a heroic pose and call out ‘Don’t worry, Lois. I’ll save you!’ Then, we’ll lower you down gingerly and we can all call it a night. OK?... Let’s do it!”

The best Richard could muster up was to jam his elbows against his ribs, which restricted his arms, bend his hands at ninety-degree angles, one up, the other down, jam his right knee forward and left knee backward. He looked like a bizarre broken swastika pendant. As Rich K and Tony G tried to lower Richard the rope kept snagging in the pulley. Richard began to sway . When he shouted out his lines with forced enthusiasm, the momentum accelerated the sway into a pronounced swing. As he reached the apex of the forward arc there was a sudden SNAP! The rope split and for a nano second, Richard was frozen in midair. But gravity took over and tossed Richard forward into an arc, and Richard plummeted downward and slammed “full body” onto the stage floor. The impact reverberated like a cannon in Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. Coco gasped and bit his knuckles, Gerald P covered his face, Rich K and Tony G muttered a slow “Wowwww!” Sam M who was seated by my side turned to me and said, “ You know I was only kidding earlier, right?” The only movement was Coco’s assistant who leapt from his seat and onto the stage, knelt down next to Richard, uncovered the cape which had draped over Richard’s head, patted Richard’s back, then looked up and said “It’s OK. It’s OK. The costume and the harness are fine! Thank God!” Poor Richard lay face down, quietly sobbing that his arm was broken.

Campus security was notified. An ambulance was summoned. Important phone calls were placed to important people. Rich K and Tony G, Coco, his assistant, and Sam M tended to Richard who was conscious but weakly sobbing in intense pain. I was posted outside the Theatre to meet the ambulance, which arrived quickly from Fordham Hospital which was just across the street from the campus. The medical techs rushed into the Theatre with a gurney, examined Richard, confirmed that the arm was injured, splinted the forearm, loaded Richard onto a gurney, and wheeled him to the ambulance.

Then the weirdest thing happened. As Richard was loaded into the ambulance, a tiny priest appeared out of nowhere wearing a thin purple stole around his neck carrying a small black satchel. He walked over to the gurney and in a thick Irish brogue said “Sonn, I hair there was a tragedy that befell ye! Do ya need sum spiritual confortin’ ?” Richard looked at the priest, and weakly but dramatically, answered “ Oh...I’m OK, Father. I think I just… broke my arm” . To which the tiny priest replied “Well sonn, as lang as ye didn’t break yer heart!” He blessed Richard and then just disappeared into the night.

A short ride later, Richard, costumed as Superman, was wheeled into the emergency room with us in tow as his entourage. As the ambulance tech wheeled the gurney up to the reception desk, the nurse behind the counter bolted up and said “WHAT…in the WORLD?” To which ambulance tech with a deadpan answered “Yep! It’s Superman. Where do you want him?”

Of course, it didn’t take very long for word to spread that Superman was in the emergency room. Heads popped out of every nook. Even those patients that were conscious enough strained from their beds to get a glimpse of Superman on a gurney. “What happened, someone hit hm with a Kryptonite bat?... Does Lois Lane know?... Someone call the Daily Plane! … Screw the Daily Planet, call the New York Post! … Camera! Does anyone have a camera? I want a picture of this!”

Richard was placed into an isolated room off the main fairway away from all the hubbub. While Coco, his assistant, Rich K and Tony G wandered off to find a coffee, the rest of us kept Richard company awaiting the doctor’s arrival. Then, in the open doorway, we noticed a young thin black orderly with a huge Afro. Without missing a beat, he spread his arms out like little wings, glanced at us, smirked, and whispered “Woooosh!” and disappeared out of the frame.

When the attending physician arrived with her crew, we were herded out of the room. Coco’s assistant stayed behind and insisted on helping the medical staff remove the Superman costume and harness. (As we later learned, the X-rays determined that Richard’s arm was not broken but only sustained a substantial albeit painful hairline fracture because the fake muscle padding in the costume had buffeted the fall and prevented a serious break in the bone.) Richard’s arm was placed in a cast. He was sedated and kept overnight for observation. The rest of us were told to go home.

I called Hank C, the understudy, and told him that he was Superman. He sounded concerned for Richard, but I sensed that he was smiling.

The following evening, Wednesday, Hank C was on the Fordham stage. Coco’s assistant made final adjustments to Hank’s harness which was created simultaneously with Richard’s. The caped upper torso portion of the Superman costume, which covered the harness, was adjustable. Therefore, Hank wore only the caped torso part and a pair of jeans rather than the full costume . After the Tuesday night fiasco Rich K and Tony G returned to the Theatre and spent the entire night and all of Wednesday bringing the flying rig up to par. The rope was replaced with proper airplane grade cables, the snagging pulley problem was resolved. It operated smoothly. The excitement that evening was that Hank would be the first actor to make a full flight across the Fordham stage. Although he was a head shorter and nearly twenty pounds lighter than Richard , and not as musically gifted, Hank was a natural athlete - firm, toned and strong as iron - with a pleasant singing voice. However, what made him most appealing was his fearlessness. And this evening Hank bubbled with eagerness.

Everyone took their places like the night before. Coco reviewed the flight plan. Hank would lift off the stage floor, fly in an upward angle and disappear into the wings stage left. It was going to be a marvel to watch. Except for one small, overlooked item. Although the flying rig was fully operational, the counterweight system was still set at Richard’s weight. So, when Hank struck a heroic pose and called out “Up! Up! And Away!!” and Tony G released the counterweights on the pulley, they dropped. Since they were heavier than Hank, they accelerated, and so, naturally, did Hank. Suddenly, Hank vaulted across the stage like an ancient Roman javelin launched from a catapult and disappeared into the wings where there were sounds of steel crashing against steel, followed by a staccato of horrible thuds. Hank appeared from the wings, dazed, cupping his hand over a nasty gash on his right temple, swaying and shouting “Okay, let’s do this thing!” . Then he plopped to the ground sitting upright, but dazed.

The evening turned into a horrid déjà vu on the night before – the same phone calls, the same ambulance, the same ambulance techs, the same ride to the same emergency room staffed by the same personnel. The only difference was that Hank was not on a gurney but in a wheelchair with a bandaged head and the upper portion of the Superman costume. As the ambulance tech passed the reception desk the ambulance tech said, with the same deadpan expression on his face said, “That’s two.” The nurse shook her head and turned on us like an angry mother “ WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS DOING AT THAT COLLEGE – TRYING TO KILL OFF SUPERMAN?”

Fortunately, Hank had broken nothing. His athletic prowess saved him. When he slammed into the catwalk ladder in the wings the rebound sent him into a violent spin. The spinning harness cables dislodged the dolly and sheared its restraining clamps. The dolly came off the track and fell pulling Hank downward with it. But Hank had Tarzan reflexes. He grabbed the rungs of the ladder and despite being pulled downward, he managed to grasp every few of rungs which slowed his fall. Unfortunately, when he hit bottom, his forehead struck the last rung which left a nasty gash which required a few stitches. The X rays revealed no damage to the skull. There was no internal bleeding. Fordham hospital kept him overnight for observation. And Gerald P condemned the flying rig and ordered it to be dismantled.

But this story has a happy ending. Two and a half weeks later, Superman opened at the Fordham Theatre. Richard came back to star in the leading role. Coco’s assistant made the costume adjustments to the to hide his arm cast. Since Hank was too bruised to play the part, Coco’s assistant assembled a soldier’s uniform for him, and Hank joined the chorus as a wounded veteran (The program still listed him as the understudy). There was no flying on stage. Instead, the flights were simulated with gobos (metal silhouettes placed on the front end of spotlights) and sound effects. However, before the show opened, rumors about the near massacre of the Supermen spread throughout the student grapevine, and ticket and T-shirt sales soared. The Fordham Hospital emergency room was a packet of complementary tickets. At the cast party Sam M awarded Rich K and Tony G each a lapel badge with the word TERMINATOR in bold letters on it. Hank was re-christened as Tarzan. And the story of TRYING TO KILL OFF SUPERMAN attained legendary status. It became the favorite entertainment at parties for the remainder of the semester. Each person who told the story offered their own unique version of what happened. What you have just read was mine.

What inspired me to pass this story on to you is a film recently been added to Netflix menu titled The Bubble. Directed, produced, and co-authored by Judd Apatow and Pam Brady, it features an ensemble cast composed of Leslie Mann, Fred Armisen, Karen Gillian, David Duchovny, Kate McKinnon, among others. It is labeled a comedy but in actually it is a broad farce about a fictitious major Hollywood studio that decides to shoot another installment of the Cliff Beasts franchise called - Cliff Beasts 6: Battle for Everest: Memories of a Requiem in the midst of the COVID 19 pandemic. The film pokes fun at everything – green screen technology, contemporary gadgetry, ZOOM, egos, relationships, producers, actors, agents, and those that the studio hires because as expert consultants but who actually no nothing.

The Bubble is a very silly film, which makes no pretense about being a sophisticated comedy. However, it does contain a high giggle factor. One particular scene in the film, when the cast, in denial that they have contracted COVID, decide to continue shooting a scene where they are all harnessed in midair against a green screen, is what reminded me of the Fordham story. Perhaps, the film it is not worthy of a large screen in a motion picture theater, but it is perfect for an end of workday cocktail in the living room, and a good film to watch if you just want a tickle.

But as always, dear reader, pour yourself a tall dry martini and judge for yourself.