….
It was time to wrap up the pre-production of the [Superman] movie.
And there was a lot to figure out happened over past months. But the main thing was the flying scenes.
Obviously, Superman flies.
It's easy to say that, so does 'Iron Man' from Regal's previous films, and even in Harry Potter where he built an entire new wiring system to make flying on a broom make sense.
But if one were to ask Regal or his team, the stunt coordinator or VFX supervisors, it might turn out different.
Superman doesn't fly because of gadgets or props.
He flies because he is Superman.
His Kryptonian cells absorb sunlight, generating a bioelectric field that lets him manipulate gravity itself. His strength comes from adapting to Krypton's immense gravity and dense atmosphere - an adaptation supercharged by Earth's sun. The result was a being who didn't simulate flight, but one who simply moved through the air as effortlessly as breathing.
No rocket boots or broomstick.
Just pure, impossible propulsion, at speeds that would tear lesser beings apart.
So, the team needed to make sure they did it exactly as they envisioned.
But for now, a few other stunt scenes were being coordinated.
Meaning, they weren't shooting yet.
Just practicing, rehearsing before the actual shoot so they wouldn't have to figure things out on location, under the burning sun, with a full crew waiting and burning through the budget by the hour.
….
The rehearsal space was a converted warehouse in Burbank, high ceilings, padded floors, and enough room to rig complex wire systems.
Henry Cavill was there covered in sweat in his casual sportswear - however, there is a cape hanging in his back, giving him an odd overall look.
That was important.
Henry needed to get used to moving with the physical cape hanging behind him for standard walking, standing, and some action shots.
His stunt double was there too - Elliot Cooke, a British stunt performer. Normally, finding someone who matched Henry's should have been challenging, which actually was - but since Superman mostly doesn't perform any extreme athletic stunts like Spider-Man the process became slightly easier.
Nevertheless, Elliot was 6'0", not quite Henry's 6'1", but with the right posturing and camera angles, it wouldn't matter.
What mattered was that Elliot had the physicality and the experience, and more importantly, he could copy the body language of Henry.
Right now, Elliot was off to the side running through a separate sequence, a series of backward rolls and recoveries that would be used in the Smallville fight scene. He made it look effortless, his body coiling and uncoiling like a spring.
Meanwhile, Regal stood near the main setup with the stunt coordinator, discussing what they were about to do with Henry.
The stunt coordinator was a man named Jack Gill, a legend in the industry. He had coordinated stunts for Spider-Man, and more recently, Regal's own Iron Man.
Jack was in his mid-fifties as he wore a faded black T-shirt with "STUNT COORDINATOR" printed on the back in white letters, cargo pants, and fingerless gloves.
Jack had a reputation: brilliant, meticulous, and utterly uncompromising. He also had a love-hate relationship with wire work that bordered on philosophy.
Regal nodded. "Let's keep this simple, it will be a small scene. A warm-up to get Henry into work mode."
"Alright." Jack said, adjusting the rigging diagram on his clipboard.
"Just before this… He gets punched - hard. The force sends him sliding backward across the road, maybe ten to fifteen meters. For now, forget the punch. I just want the impact shot, the slide and reaction."
"Okay." Jack said. He turned toward Henry, who was stretching his shoulders nearby. "Henry, come here."
Henry walked over, cape swishing slightly behind him. Even in a rehearsal outfit, he looked the part.
Jack pointed to the setup. "We are rigging you with four cables - two on each side, front and back. When I give the signal, my guys are going to pull you backward. Your job is to sell the impact. Feet dragging, body resisting but losing. Think of it like you have been hit by a truck, but you are still conscious, still fighting to stay upright."
Henry studied the rig. "How fast?"
"We will be testing that part… but yeah it will be controlled enough to keep you safe. We will start at seventy percent speed, see how it feels, then ramp up."
"Got it."
Jack turned to his assistant rigger, a young woman named Maria who was already threading the cables through the harness system. "Maria, double-check the tension on the rear cables. I don't want any slack."
"On it." Maria said, her hands moving.
As they prepped, Jack glanced at Regal. "You know what I hate the most about making a movie?"
Regal raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Wire work done wrong." Jack's tone was flat, but there was an edge to it.
He yanked one of the cables to test its security, the metal groaning slightly. "What I like the most is wire work done right."
He spoke as if, given the chance, he would collect all the ropes in the world and burn them, not because he hated them, but because so few people knew how to use them properly.
Regal smirked. "That is weirdly romantic."
"There is nothing weird about it." Jack shot back, not missing a beat.
….
Ten minutes later, everything was set.
Henry stood in the middle of the marked rehearsal zone, cables attached to a custom harness over his t-shirt.
The harness was a marvel of engineering calculations, distributed weight across his torso, minimized chafing, allowed full range of motion. It had taken three fittings to get right.
The floor beneath him was a section of reinforced fake road, textured concrete designed to look like cracked asphalt, but with enough give to prevent injury.
Still, the friction was real.
Jack stood off to the side with a radio in hand, coordinating with the two riggers manning the pulleys. "Henry. Ready?"
Henry rolled his shoulders, settled his stance, and nodded. His expression shifted, jaw set, eyes hardening.
Trying to figure out what kind of expression would Clark Kent make taking a hit.
Regal positioned himself behind the camera, even though this was just a rehearsal. He wanted to see it through the lens. "Ready when you are, Jack."
Jack raised his hand. "On my mark. Three... two... one... pull!"
The cables snapped taut.
Henry was yanked backward - hard.
His feet scraped against the fake road, heels digging in, the friction brutal and immediate.
His body resisted for a fraction of a second, shoulders twisting, arms flaring for balance, before momentum took over. He slid backward, ten meters, twelve, the sound of his boots dragging across the textured surface filling the warehouse.
But here's what mattered: his face.
All the technical work aside - the ropes, the pulleys, the safety protocols, Henry Cavill was already in it.
His expression showed exactly what it needed to: unrelentless determination. The impact of a blow that would shatter a normal man, absorbed by someone who wasn't normal at all but still felt it.
His cape billowed dramatically behind him, snapping in the artificial wind created by his speed.
"Cut!" Regal called.
The riggers released tension, and the cables went slack.
The moment they did, Henry crouched down, wincing, immediately rubbing his right foot through the costume boot.
"You good?" Jack called, already walking toward him.
"Yeah." Henry said, though his voice was tight. "Just... friction. Felt it more than I expected."
Jack knelt beside him, inspecting the boot. "Let me see."
Henry pulled the boot off.
His sock underneath was intact, but there was a faint red mark along the side of his foot where the boot had compressed during the slide.
"Nothing serious." Jack said. "But we will adjust the road surface before the real take. Add a layer of silicon coating, reducing friction without changing the visual."
"Appreciated." Henry said, flexing his foot.
From behind the camera, Regal just laughed.
It was funny, genuinely funny, seeing Superman, all that muscle and presence, crouched on the ground trying to nurse his foot like a kid who had stubbed his toe on a coffee table.
"Good thing you can act and control your expression, Henry." Regal said, grinning. "Because this" - he gestured at Henry examining his foot - "is definitely not the Superman we are making a movie about."
Henry looked up, still wincing but starting to smile despite himself. "Yeah, well, Superman never had to deal with stunt coordinators."
The crew laughed. Even Jack cracked a smile.
Elliot Cooke, the stunt double, walked over with a bottle of water. "For what it's worth, mate, that looked brilliant. The slide, the expression, spot on."
Henry took the water gratefully. "Thanks. How'd your sequence go?"
"Smooth. Though I am not the one getting dragged across fake asphalt."
"Lucky you."
Jack stood, brushing off his knees. "Alright, Henry. Are you good to go again, or do you need a minute?"
Henry tested his weight, standing fully. "I am good. Let's do it."
"Sure man." Jack turned to the riggers. "Maria, apply the silicon coating to the road section. I want this dialed in before we run it again."
Maria nodded, already heading for the equipment.
Regal clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Okay, people. Reset. Let's go again - same energy, Henry. That expression was perfect. Just try not to look like you're about to file a worker's comp claim when we cut."
Henry shot him a look, half-amused, half-annoyed. "I wasn't about to—"
"Your foot says otherwise."
"My foot's a traitor."
More laughter rippled through the crew.
But as they reset the cables and prepped for another run, Regal watched Henry settle back into position.
The way he transformed, shoulders squaring, face hardening, eyes focusing into the distance, it was already Superman. It wasn't just about the costume or the cape, it was the presence.
Jack finished adjusting the harness and stepped back. "We are good. Ready when you are."
Regal looked through the camera viewfinder again. "Action on your mark, Jack."
The flying would be hard.
The wire work would be brutal, they still hadn't cracked the hovering problem - how to make a man look like he's floating in midair without it looking like he's dangling from strings.
But they would figure it out.
Because if Henry could sell this, a simple backward slide, with that much conviction, that much truth?
Then they could sell anything.
Even a man who could fly.
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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