Jimmy Loves Dumb Movies - This Week: Superman III

There was a magical period of time in the 1980s when nobody quite knew what to do with all the television channels.

Cable television was still relatively new, desperately trying to justify its existence by filling twenty-four hours a day with...well...whatever they could get their hands on. HBO wasn't yet the prestige powerhouse it would become. MTV actually played music videos. The Disney Channel felt like a secret club. Every channel had to feed the beast, and the beast was always hungry.

Meanwhile, broadcast television wasn't about to surrender without a fight. Local affiliates stuffed their late-night schedules with cheap horror movies, forgotten comedies, strange imports, and whatever else could be licensed for pennies. These were the days of "The End of the Broadcast Day" when stations signed off by playing the National Anthem before surrendering to static until sunrise.

It was glorious.

HBO, MTV, and The Disney Channel became my gateway drugs to weird cinema. Closer to home, growing up in Ohio, I had the absolute privilege of discovering the bizarre through Cleveland legends Big Chuck & Lil' John. They introduced an entire generation of kids to monster movies, exploitation flicks, comedy sketches, and the wonderfully macabre. Looking back, it's amazing any of us turned out normal.

Or did we?

Now, before anyone starts sharpening their film school pencils, let me clarify something.

I love great films.

I love Casablanca. I love Rear Window. I love Jaws. I have an M.F.A. in Film and Video Production. I know my way around auteurs, mise-en-scène, thematic analysis, and all the other fancy terms that justify the student loans.

I also love movies that are unapologetically stupid.

But I'm not talking about intentionally dumb comedies like Dumb & Dumber, Jackass, or White Chicks. Those know exactly what they are, and I adore them for it.

No, I'm talking about the oddballs.

The movies that somehow got made.

The films that leave you asking, "Who approved this?" and then answering yourself, "I don't know, but thank God they did."

I'm talking about House. I'm talking about Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2. I'm talking about Jaws 2. Hell, if I'm being completely honest, I really like Jaws 3 and Jaws: The Revenge too.

It was a great time to be alive.

And perhaps no movie better represents my love for cinematic weirdness than 1983's Superman III.

Let's get this out of the way:

Superman III is not a good movie.

I know this.

You know this.

Christopher Reeve probably knew this.

The story is paper-thin, desperately trying to capitalize on America's growing fascination with computers. It feels less like science fiction and more like a middle-aged executive shouting, "People like computers now! Put computers in Superman!"

The opening sequence is one of the most ridiculous chains of events ever assembled. It plays like a live-action cartoon where every character accidentally causes the next disaster. It's so tonally bizarre that you genuinely wonder if you've walked into the wrong theater.

The special effects weren't even state-of-the-art by 1983 standards.

None of it should work.

And yet...

Hot damn, do I love Kryptonite Superman.

Watching Christopher Reeve transform from the hopeful symbol of goodness into an arrogant, selfish version of himself remains one of the coolest ideas in the entire franchise. The junkyard fight between Clark Kent and Superman? Genuinely fantastic. Reeve's ability to portray both characters as distinct personalities reminds you why he's still the gold standard.

Then there's Richard Pryor.

What in the world is Richard Pryor doing in a Superman movie?

I have no idea.

And I couldn't love it more.

As Gus Gorman, he's an accidental criminal who stumbles into villainy before ultimately finding his conscience. Pryor brings warmth, humanity, and comedic timing to material that frankly doesn't deserve him.

The true villains, Ross and Vera Webster, are gloriously ridiculous. Robert Vaughn plays Ross like a Bond villain who got rejected for being too smug. Annie Ross's Vera Webster somehow manages to be both threatening and absurd.

And then there's Lorelei.

Sweet, beautiful, hilariously dim Lorelei.

Pamela Stephenson's "blonde bimbo" character probably awakened something in an entire generation of young boys. She remains one of those wonderfully strange relics of early '80s filmmaking that simply wouldn't exist today.

Annette O'Toole's Lana Lang?

Absolutely gorgeous.

Margot Kidder's Lois Lane?

Still amazing.

Jackie Cooper's Perry White and Marc McClure's Jimmy Olsen?

Comfort food. Seeing the Daily Planet crew again feels like visiting old friends.

And let's talk about Cyborg Vera.

Good Lord.

For kids of a certain age, that horrifying transformation sequence belongs in the same nightmare fuel category as Large Marge from Pee-wee's Big Adventure. Watching Vera get absorbed into that machine and emerge as some cybernetic nightmare was genuinely terrifying. It might be one of the greatest "final boss" reveals of the 1980s.

Most importantly, though, I love seeing Christopher Reeve as Superman.

End of sentence.

He embodied everything the character should be. Kindness without weakness. Strength without arrogance. Optimism without naïveté. Even trapped inside a movie that often feels like it was assembled during an all-night sugar binge, Reeve shines.

Maybe that's why I love movies like Superman III.

They aren't perfect.

Sometimes they aren't even good.

But they're sincere.

They swing for the fences with bizarre ideas. They reflect the anxieties and fascinations of their era. They surprise you. They scar you a little. They make absolutely no sense. They become part of your DNA because you discovered them at exactly the right age, usually at eleven o'clock at night while your parents thought you were asleep.

Film school taught me how to make and analyze movies.

The 1980s taught me how to love them.

And sometimes love isn't about perfection.

Sometimes it's about Richard Pryor fighting a supercomputer while evil Superman straightens his cape after flicking peanuts at bottles in a dive bar.

And honestly?

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Check out the trailer for Superman III below: