IN THE MOVIES LOIS LANE COULD NEVER get Superman to tie the knot. But then, nobody could get the actor who played him to do it either. Remaining heroically unfettered by matrimony—even during lengthy liaisons—Superman star Christopher Reeve explains, "I was in a cycle of trying to maintain a relationship but secretly looking for the ultimate babe."
Last December he decided he'd found her. Over a candlelit dinner of turkey meatballs at their Manhattan penthouse, Reeve, 39, locked eyes with his girlfriend of 4½ years, actress Dana Morosini, and "virtually at the same time," he recalls, "we both said, 'Let's get married.' " To his surprise he discovered that "saying that was the sexiest thing. We put down our forks and went straight to the bedroom. It was extremely erotic."
In the study of the apartment, where they are staying while she performs for several weeks in the off-Broadway play Sight Unseen (they usually live at his 40-acre farm in Williamstown, Mass.), Morosini, 31, now seven months pregnant, eases into a leather chair next to Reeve and holds his hand. "It was a real turn-on," she agrees.
"It made me so horny," teases Reeve, giving his fiancée's hand a squeeze that suggests he might like to head back to the bedroom.
Ahem.
Most of the time, though, Reeve exudes more wonder than desire when musing on his newfound romantic stability. Often, he confesses, he waltzes around the house, exclaiming, "We're getting married!" The couple will exchange self-written vows in Williamstown this month, and in June they plan to welcome a baby boy. (Reeve has two children, Matthew, 12, and Alexandra, 8, by his previous live-in, Gae Exton, 40, a British-born advertising agent, who lives in London with the kids.)
Reeve's career, on the other hand, has lost some of its initial, superhuman punch. Stuck in range-expanding but relatively obscure films since Superman 4 in 1987, Reeve, who once commanded a $3.7 million salary, took $100,000 to test his flair for farce in his new film, Noises Off, which has also performed disappointingly. He good-humoredly compares himself with friend and old Juilliard roommate Robin Williams: "Our careers followed parallel paths for a while. He was Popeye at the same time I was Superman." But now "Robin is jet-propelled, and I am paddling alongside in a canoe."
The children of professionals, Reeve, born in Manhattan, and Morosini, who was raised in nearby Edgemont, N.Y., share privileged backgrounds. They met in Williamstown, at a nightclub where Morosini was singing, on June 30, 1987 ("our day," they proclaim in unison), five months after Reeve had broken off his 10-year romance with Exton.
Warned by friends that Reeve was on the make, Morosini rebuffed his first advances, then ran into him at a local hot spot, where she suddenly found him irresistible. "We ended up talking for an hour," recalls Reeve. "We didn't get a drink, we didn't sit down, we didn't move. Everything just vanished around us."
After a chaste, 10-day courtship of flowers and long steamy looks, Reeve invited her for a moonlight swim at a nearby pond. Morosini remembers, "I thought, 'Oh God, here comes the old let's-get-naked-and-go-for-a-swim routine.' " She was relieved—and hooked—when he offered to pick up her swimsuit. "I thought that was so sweet," she says. "That night was our first kiss."
She moved in with him six months later, and they have since discovered a few differences. "My side of the bed is neat," says Reeve. "Hers looks like a yard sale. Sometimes it gets to me, and I say, 'Clutter alert.' "
Soon they will have to clear some space for little Murray, as they call their soon-to-be-born son (after New York City's Murray Hill neighborhood, where she had the gender-revealing sonogram). Because the couple diligently used birth control, Morosini had no clue when she began feeling exhausted last fall. After four months, Morosini's pregnant sister, Deborah, 33, a medical student, finally made the correct diagnosis.
For the moment, though, says Morosini, "there are scripts by the bed, not baby books." Reeve is contemplating another quick-change in the Metropolis phone booth for Superman 5. "If I did it," he says, "it would have to be the swan song, the thank-you-and-good-night." Pinching his waist, Reeve says he would have to log some serious gym time. "People don't want to see Superman with a spare tire hanging over his yellow belt," he says with a laugh.
A founder of the Creative Coalition, a group of celeb activists, including Susan Sarandon and Alec Baldwin, Reeve keeps busy in between films drumming up support for the environment, the arts and other pet causes. He is on friendly terms with Exton and spends four months a year with his kids, who he believes have not suffered from his absence. "If the love is not in question," he says, "they can survive separation. When we get together, we fall right into place."
Reeve says Matthew and Alexandra are excited about the new additions to the family, and come June, they will fall in next to their dad—as best man and maid of honor—when he weds Morosini. Her dress will be fitted at the last possible moment. "I want it to be as flattering as possible," she says, laughing. "I guess I will show off legs and make a bonus of the cleavage."
"Make sure the dress has a window in it," adds Reeve, gazing at her abdomen.
"Yes," she says, "for the ring bearer inside."
JEANNIE PARK
VICKI SHEFF-CAHAN in New York City
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