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She was the stunning star who captured the hearts of millions. Then her life spiraled out of control... and ended in heartbreaking tragedy
She was the stunning star who captured the hearts of millions. Then her life spiraled out of control... and ended in heartbreaking tragedy

Daily Mail​

time11-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Daily Mail​

She was the stunning star who captured the hearts of millions. Then her life spiraled out of control... and ended in heartbreaking tragedy

She flew into the hearts of global audiences and the annals of cinematic history as her nightgown–clad heroine soared over the skyline of metropolis alongside Christopher Reeve when Superman hit theaters in 1978. Actress Margot Kidder's Lois Lane – a mixture of journalistic feistiness and besotted comic book–girlfriend vulnerability – became instantly iconic and recognizable. She starred in four of the franchise's blockbusters, gracing the covers of countless magazines and making shoeless appearances for TV interviews as the world couldn't seem to get enough of the ethereal Canadian star.

The tragedy of Superman's original Lois Lane, the Hollywood star who ended up homeless, eating out of trash cans with a life in turmoil
The tragedy of Superman's original Lois Lane, the Hollywood star who ended up homeless, eating out of trash cans with a life in turmoil

Daily Mail​

time11-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Daily Mail​

The tragedy of Superman's original Lois Lane, the Hollywood star who ended up homeless, eating out of trash cans with a life in turmoil

She flew into the hearts of global audiences and the annals of cinematic history as her nightgown-clad heroine soared over the skyline of metropolis alongside Christopher Reeve when Superman hit theaters in 1978. Actress Margot Kidder's Lois Lane – a mixture of journalistic feistiness and besotted comic book-girlfriend vulnerability – became instantly iconic and recognizable. She starred in four of the franchise's blockbusters, gracing the covers of countless magazines and making shoeless appearances for TV interviews as the world couldn't seem to get enough of the ethereal Canadian star. As legions of fans envied her aerial on-screen escapades with one of Hollywood's then-hottest heartthrobs, however, Kidder was grappling with a lifetime of what she called 'mind flights.' She would only come to accept a bipolar diagnosis later in life, but Kidder, from childhood, was plagued by mental struggles that would at one point in the 1990s leave her homeless and near toothless in California, committed to psychiatric care th and rummaging through garbage for food. Kidder later labelled the sad episode 'the most public freak-out in history,' telling People in 1996 that she'd been 'like one of those ladies you see talking to the space aliens on the street corner in New York.' She would afterwards become a passionate mental health advocate – though opposing traditional medicines. And Kidder would continue to endure a series of highs and lows before her May 2018 death, ruled a suicide after a friend found her body in tiny Livingston, Montana – where she'd lived for years was reportedly trying to help drug addicts at the time of her passing. 'It's a big relief that the truth is out there,' Kidder's only child, Maggie, said after the coroner ruled three months later that the actress had died 'as a result of a self-inflicted drug and alcohol overdose'. 'It's important to be open and honest so there's not a cloud of shame in dealing with this,' her daughter added. While many have attributed Kidder's decline to the 'Superman curse' – with her costar, Reeve, left paralyzed by a horsing accident before his death in 2004 - Kidder herself had been open and honest for decades about her struggles. 'The reality of my life has been grand and wonderful, punctuated by these odd blips and burps of madness,' she told People. She grew up in about a dozen towns in Canada's northwest provinces, one of five children born to a Canadian mother and American father who moved frequently for work. From an early age, she said, she knew her brain saw life differently. 'I've always called it 'keeping the monsters in,'' she told People. 'I knew it wasn't socially acceptable at a high school dance to talk about the time you got homogenized with pine cones.' Her first suicide attempt was at 14, after a boyfriend dumped her. 'It never occurred to anyone to send me to a shrink,' she told the outlet. 'I was just a teenager with a broken heart.' She was drawn to performance, though 'Nobody ever encouraged me to be an actress,' Kidder told Rolling Stone. 'It was taken as a joke. I just knew I didn't want to stay in a small town, get married and have babies … I wanted to eat everything on the world's platter, but my eyes were bigger than my stomach.' After a year at university, Kidder decided to indulge her passion and set off for Toronto, finding acting work in Canada and earning a name before moving to Los Angeles to star with James Garner in 1971 TV series Nichols. She continued to work steadily, landing roles that included the film adaptation of writer Thomas McGuane's Ninety-two in Shade. The married novelist directed it himself and cast Kidder to play his female lead; despite his wife and mistress, the pair struck up a romance. He got divorced, Kidder moved to Montana and they welcomed daughter Maggie in 1975, marrying the following year. 'I decided, for the first time in my life, I was going to commit to a man, be a wife and mother,' she told rolling Stone. 'It was the only relationship in which I said, 'I'm going all the way, even if it means my own self-destruction.' 'But I didn't really commit – it was sort of half-assed. I mostly sat around and wept in closets. It was a great lesson.' Kidder quickly tired of her rural life and missed acting; she called up LA agent Rick Nicita out of the blue while still living in Montana. 'She said, 'I'm coming back to the business , and I want you to be my agent okay?'' he told Rolling Stone. 'I said, 'I think we ought to meet and talk about it; we hardly know each other.' And she said, 'Hey, let's just do it.' So I had her fly in and sign agency contracts.' She landed Superman after sparking undeniable chemistry with Reeve, though she admitted later she'd found him 'dorky' upon meeting. The role catapulted her to stardom – and freed her from marriage, with she and McGuane divorcing – but fame came at a price. 'I was being what I call 'Margot Moviestar,' she told the Los Angeles Times in 1997. 'Or trying to be, very badly. After Superman came out, I found it very difficult and hard to deal with. 'There is a sense of having to put on this phony face when you go out in public. I wasn't very good at it, and it filled me with anxiety and panic.' She partied wildly, dated a string of high-profile names – from Pierre Trudeau to Richard Pryor – and generally earned a reputation for being erratic, charismatic and eccentric. 'I've never done anything in moderation in my life,' she told Rolling Stone in 1981. 'I've always been addicted to excess. I mean, this whole concept of moderation is something I yearn for.' She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 1988 but refused to accept it nor take the recommended treatment of lithium. 'It's very hard to convince a manic person that there is anything wrong with them,' she told People. 'You have no desire to sleep. You are full of ideas.' A car accident injury in 1990, sustained while filming in Vancouver, threw another wrench in Kidder's life and mental health, however. Left partially paralyzed, she had surgery two years later – but the damage and recovery left her bankrupt, as well as addicted to pills and alcohol. 'Nothing was ever stable for Maggie. Manics run through a lot of money, so there was no financial security,' she told People. At the same time, in the span of less than ten years, Kidder married and divorced three times - including a six-day union with actor John Heard. 'I was whipping through husbands a mile a minute,' she told the magazine. She was unmarried and writing her memoirs in 1996 when a manic episode catapulted her back into the headlines for all the wrong reasons. Her computer crashed, she lost her work and 'went from really distressed to absolute delusion,' she told People. She flew to LA to see a computer specialist who couldn't help and, while waiting for her return flight at the airport, told the magazine that she became convinced her ex-husband and the CIA were 'trying to kill her' and shouted 'I know you're looking at me!' at passersby. Increasingly irrational and paranoid, Kidder threw away her purse, 'took off running' and made it 20 miles downtown, sleeping 'in yards and on porches in a state of fear' and hacking off most of her hair. She turned up days later, dirty and disheveled and in what police called 'obvious mental distress,' in the backyard of a Glendale homeowner who called 911. After a brief hospitalization, the actress gave a high-profile interview to Barbara Walters and discussed her bipolar diagnosis, then turned to mental health advocacy and even pro-choice activism. 'If I were to go into the real facts about the five days I was wandering around LA, you'd have to write a book,' she told the LA Times in the year after the episode. 'Because when one is manic, one of the things that happens is the brain is speeding at such a rate that the messages going from the neuron across the synapse are going so quickly, because your brain floods with something called dopamine. Every part of your mind is on red alert, so you are remembering everything you've ever read and everything that's happened in your life, and you're speeding so quickly, so within those five days I lived five years.' Attempting to correct some reports, she said: 'I wasn't cowering with a knife or anything, I was sleeping in this woman's leaf pile in her backyard when she came out to do her gardening, and I didn't want to frighten her, so I said, 'Hi, excuse me, hello, I'm in trouble.'' She returned to Montana and, by 2005, was describing herself as 'a grandmother with my dogs and nice friends here in the Rocky mountains. 'Ever see the movie A River Runs Through It? That's where I live,' she told The Guardian. 'It's beautiful, no two ways about it.' She was still, however, eschewing traditional treatments for her mental health concerns. 'You take the cards you're dealt, and I got better,' she said. 'I'm now ferociously healthy in body and mind. You couldn't pay me to go near a psychiatrist again. Stopping seeing them was my first step to getting well.' Kidder was a vocal proponent of orthomolecular medicine – an alternative medicine focused on balancing vitamins and nutrients to maintain health without drugs – and even narrated a documentary about the approach. Her final years, however, seemed marked by further struggles. The actress-cum-activist's home in Livingston, Montana, was taken over by meth-heads who she was trying to 'fix', close friends told Daily Mail in the immediate aftermath of her death. Between August 2016 and her death in May 2018, authorities were called to her house 40 times on reports of people trespassing, theft and other disturbances, according to police logs released under a public-records request. The calls include responses by ambulances five times in seven months, including at the time of her death. Drug addicts ended up cooking methamphetamine in her basement and stealing her valuables, they added. 'Margie was a real bad judge of people,' environmental activist Louisa Willox said, using the name that the Superman star was universally known by around the town, which has attracted dozens of counter-culture characters over the years. 'Towards the end I went round to help her with her medications and I couldn't read the instructions on the bottle because the ink had run. 'She told me that was because she had to hide the pills in her bra to stop these guys stealing them.' Kidder was found dead in her home in Livingston on May 13, 2018 at the age of 69. 'It's a very unique sort of grief and pain,' her daughter told the Associated Press that month. Knowing how many families in this state [Montana] go through this, I wish that I could reach out to each one of them.' It's a sentiment her mother, so vocal about addressing mental health, regardless of the means, would likely have greatly appreciated. Kidder had been conscious of her struggle to balance passion and stability for as far back as she could remember – but her appreciation for life shone through in so much of what she did and said. In the early days of her international stardom, in the wake of the Superman box office behemoth, she described to Rolling Stone 'a constant sense of conflict: if I think about what I believe is important, I'll be crazy; and if I don't think about it, I find myself denying, denying, denying in order to be normal.' Her daughter, seven months after Kidder's death on Mother's Day in 2018, was reflective as she spoke to The New York Times. She thought about her mothers ups and downs, her highs and lows, her personal and public personas and her legacy. 'What made her even more extraordinary than people understand is that she did all that she did while fighting those battles,' Maggie said.

Homeless, paranoid and eating out of bins: the tragedy of Superman's original Lois Lane
Homeless, paranoid and eating out of bins: the tragedy of Superman's original Lois Lane

Telegraph

time10-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Telegraph

Homeless, paranoid and eating out of bins: the tragedy of Superman's original Lois Lane

When director James Gunn, steward of the high-flying new Superman reboot, was recently asked to list his favourite comic book movies, he singled out Richard Donner's beautifully brash 1978 take on the Man of Steel – the film generally credited with firing the starter pistol for the modern cinematic superhero era. 'How do you take this outrageous concept of a guy who flies around and turn him into something real?' mused Gunn of Donner's Superman – to which his all-new take on the character pays tribute by utilising John Williams's beloved 'da-dah-dah-dah' musical cue. 'I'm definitely influenced by what Donner did, with Superman, and what Christopher Reeve did with Superman and Margot Kidder, who's fantastic in the movie.' After a pause, Gunn gets what you suspect was his actual point all along. 'She's really the heart of it in a lot of ways.' How perceptive of Gunn to understand that Kidder's plucky girl-reporter Lois Lane is the emotional core of the original Superman. Firstly, she is the perfect audience surrogate – when Superman catches her mid-air and says, 'Easy miss, I've got you', she speaks for us all by saying, 'You've got me – who's got you?' But as Gunn perceptively notes, Kidder is also the heart of the film: in a story about flying aliens and people shooting lasers from their eyes, her love affair with Superman's alter ego, Clark Kent, feels real and grounded – and it elevates Donner's Superman beyond simple, late Seventies escapism. It has also informed Gunn's film in which David Corenswet emulates Reeve's boy-scout-who-can-fly ideal of Superman/Clark Kent, and Rachel Brosnahan portrays Lois Lane as a 'fiercely intelligent' journalist who clearly owes a lot to Kidder. 'I love the romance between Lois and Superman in the first original film, and I think it was really beautiful, but it was also very much Lois going goo-ga over Superman because he can fly around and pick up planets,' said Gunn, explaining how he hoped to build and improve upon the 1978 Superman. 'But what I wanted to see is why does Superman love Lois so much so from the very beginning we did chemistry reads with Superman and Lois, David and Rachel – and that is how they got these roles because not only were they individually great but together as a couple – they bounced off each other in a truly dynamic way.' The new Superman has the potential to be a career milestone for all involved – not least Warner Bros' DC Comics, thoroughly trounced by bitter rival Marvel across the past decade. Yet no matter how it performs, the cast will hope to avoid the sad fate suffered by Margot Kidder, for whom Superman was a rare bright point in a life marked by hardship and loss. Kidder, who died in 2018 at the age of 69, was always an outsider in Hollywood – never more so than when Superman briefly made her one of the most recognisable actresses on the planet (and the highest-paid Canadian screen performer ever up to that point). As the most fascinating stars often are, she was a contradiction: hard-headed and determined, yet vulnerable and capable of waywardness. She became the embodiment of the 'Superman curse' when, after a spell of financial and career reversals through the Nineties, she ended up homeless, scouring for food from bins on LA's Skid Row, with several teeth missing (she'd removed them herself in a fit of paranoia so that she could not be traced through dental records). Yet even her moments of apparent triumph had an element of tragedy. She had auditioned for Superman in 1977 not because she wanted to fly around in the arms of Christopher Reeve but because she was desperate to escape her first marriage to writer Thomas McGuane – with whom she was living on a ranch in Montana. 'I decided, for the first time in my life, I was going to commit to a man, be a wife and mother,' she told Rolling Stone (she and McGuane had a daughter, Maggie, in 1975). 'It was the only relationship in which I said, 'I'm going all the way, even if it means my own self-destruction.' But I really didn't commit – it was sort of half-assed. I mostly sat around and wept in closets. It was a great lesson.' Having had enough of weeping in closets, she set her heart on Hollywood and on leaving her husband behind in his ranch in the middle of nowhere. 'One day, I got a phone call from Margot Kidder in Montana,' said her agent, Rick Nicita. 'She said, 'I'm coming back to the business, and I want you to be my agent, okay?' I said, 'I think we ought to meet and talk about it; we hardly know each other.' And she said, 'Hey, let's just do it.' So, I had her fly in and sign agency contracts. 'The first thing I said to her was, 'You can't live in Montana and maintain a career here. You're gonna have to fly in for meetings.' She said fine. So right away, I pushed real hard and got her a meeting for Superman. Then I called her, and she said, 'I can't come in, I have a cutting horse class.' 'Cutting horse?!' I said. 'No way. You're flying in. You've gotta be here.'' Kidder got her wish – she auditioned successfully for Lois Lane and, with one bond, was free of Montana and her marriage to McGuane. Superman was a gift to comic book fans. Kidder, though, wasn't quite so positive regarding the film's legacy. It cemented her in the public imagination as Lois Lane, the hard-charging journalist – a persona that quickly became constrictive. She isn't the only one who has had to reckon with the Lois Lane of those movies. Every actress to subsequently take on the role since, from Teri Hatcher in Lois and Clark to Amy Adams in the DC Extended Universe, has had to have a dialogue with Kidder's Lane, whether by pushing in the opposite direction (Hatcher) or riffing cautiously on Kidder's portrayal (Adams). It remains to be seen how well Brosnahan will deal with Lane and the attendant baggage. Outsiders saw Superman as the defining moment in her life and career. However, for Kidder, her before-and-after-moment was a car accident in 1990. She was back in her native Canada, filming a cable adaptation of the Nancy Drew novels, when she injured her spinal cord in what she had assumed to be a minor collision. But the pain grew worse and she resisted going under the knife because of the small but real danger of paralysis. Kidder turned to painkillers, a dependency that, she said, left her thinking 'muddled'. Surgery eventually helped. However, her insurer refused to settle the bills, and she ended up with six figures in debt. Always a little irrational, her decline was rapid. 'There were days I just desperately wanted to die,' she would tell People magazine. Rock bottom came in 1996 when she became convinced her first husband, McGuane, was stalking her. She went missing for four days in Los Angeles and was found, dishevelled and incoherent, in a side street, her teeth yanked out. 'I was like one of those ladies you see talking to the space aliens on the street corner in New York,' she later said. Kidder had been born in Yellowknife in Canada's remote Northwest Territories. Her father was a mining engineer, and her mother was a history teacher. Her interest in show business was ignited when she was 12, and her mother took her to New York for a Broadway performance of Bye Bye Birdie. 'That was it. I knew I had to go far away.' As a young woman, Kidder had an ethereal quality. She appeared on the Dick Cavett show in 1970 wearing a white gown without shoes and explained that, since she did not plan on a long-term career in acting, she was training in Vancouver with Robert Altman to be a movie editor. Hollywood's call would nonetheless prove irresistible, and she was soon living in a California beach house with fellow actress Jennifer Salt. Their home became a legendary hang-out for a gang of up-and-coming young film-makers and actors – among them Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg, Susan Sarandon and Brian De Palma, with whom Kidder would have a relationship and who cast her in his 1972 psychological horror Sisters. 'It was a wonderful time to be young,' she remembered. 'The Sixties didn't end until about 1976. We all believed in Make Love Not War – we were idealistic innocents, darling, despite the drugs and sex. 'We were sweet lovely people who wanted to throw out all the staid institutions who placed money and wars above all else. When you're young you think that's how life works. None of us were famous, we were broke. We didn't think they'd be writing books about us in 30 years. We were just kids doing the right thing.' Kidder was even then hard to pin down – a hippy with a hard-headed streak, a phlegmatic soul who found the travails of Hollywood often too much to handle. Her first big part, opposite Robert Redford in 1975's The Great Waldo Pepper, was heralded by everyone, apart from Kidder herself. She hated herself in the film about stunt pilots in Twenties America and expressed the belief that she should have been cut entirely from the final edit. Kidder didn't have high hopes for Superman, either. This was the pre-superhero era, and Kidder was only vaguely aware of the Man of Steel. Going to London to try out for a cheesy blockbuster wasn't an opportunity – it was a potential escape hatch from her miserable marriage. 'I really wanted the part. It was frightening as all auditions are. I had my first audition then I flew from Montana, where I lived, to London to do a screen test. I went 'I gotta get this movie because your marriage is really bad, but you don't have the strength to get out. But if you get a big movie, you can get out,' so there was that motivation.' She didn't think the movie would do very well – especially when she clapped eyes on the supposed star. 'When I first met Christopher Reeve before filming he was the skinniest, dorkiest guy you could imagine, his pant legs six inches above his ankles. I mean I thought this is Superman? So all I kept going was 'look like you love him' and it worked I got the part.' Despite her misgivings, Kidder was immediately definitive as Lois Lane. She imbued the character with a raw-knuckled drive, topped off with lashings of Old Hollywood moxie. Her Lois wasn't just the best superhero girlfriend ever – she was one of the all-time great screen journalists, a newshound determined to get the story no matter what (even if, as in Superman II, it involved climbing the Eiffel Tower to eavesdrop on terrorists). But if Kidder effortlessly inhabited the role, the off-screen adjustments were more difficult. 'Fame is weird, is what it really is,' she said. 'It's the weirdest thing in the world.' Following Superman, her first major part was in The Amityville Horror. Again, she was the only one not impressed with herself. While the media talked in shocked tones about the chilling horror and the real story it was based on, Kidder derided it as low-grade hokum. 'What a piece of s---,' she would say of it. 'I couldn't believe that anyone would take that seriously. I was laughing my whole way through it, much to the annoyance of Rod Steiger, who took the whole thing very seriously. At the time, my agent proposed sort of a 'one for me, one for them' policy. That was one for them.' Her personal life was meanwhile in near-constant turmoil. She had a long-term relationship with Richard Pryor, the comedian occasionally breaking off the courtship to marry other lovers. Kidder was herself married and divorced three times – including a six-day marriage to actor John Heard in 1979. Other paramours included writer/director Tom Mankiewicz and former Canadian prime minister Pierre Trudeau (father of Justin). After her meltdown in 1996, she gradually put her life back together, though the acting roles generally dried up (she popped up on the Superman spin-off Smallville, describing the part as boring). Living in rural Montana, she found solace as a public speaker and activist – talking about her mental health struggles and campaigning for Left-wing causes. 'I got a reputation for being sort of nuts and difficult, because I was at that point, so I wasn't much in demand,' she told the AV Club in 2009. 'And also, on the basic level, I'd made a lot of movies that didn't make money. And if you make movies that don't make money – I mean, it is a business, after all – you are not in demand.' But the demons eventually quietened, and she made peace with her tumultuous life on and off camera. She was even able to look at Superman and Lois Lane in a positive light.

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