Turns out pinning down the man who dons Superman’s cape isn’t easy. And nor should it be. But, after a missed flight, a mugging and a series of life lessons, we got there. And it was worth it.

1/16

And there it is: another bastard hill, bathed in beautiful, apathetic sunshine, the rays as affluent as the occupants of the houses that line it.

I’m aching. I’m breathless. My legs are like putty, my lungs are on fire and I’m barely halfway through crossing the island of Jersey, the peculiar British rock off the coast of Normandy.

It’s been eight kilometres since I last saw Henry Cavill. It was also eight kilometres ago that I began to believe I could conquer Superman – on his home turf, no less.

Yes, I’m jetlagged. Yes, I’m astonishingly out of shape. Yes, Cavill does this run, the Durrell Challenge, every year, returning to his home country to help raise money for an animal conservation charity. But – but! – since I passed him, all evidence of Cavill quickly disappeared.

Not even a whisper. No ominous cape blowing a few lengths behind. Even better: there’s only four kilometres to go.

2/16

You do a lot to try to get to know Henry Cavill. You fly to Hong Kong. You fly onward to London. (You acquire an unmistakable transit stench.) You change airports at peak hour on a godforsaken bus whose seats are sticky with broken dreams and holidays lost to transit, which crawls down a banked-up highway – but not before its driver stops for the most lackadaisical fag ever smoked.

You miss a flight. You book another, exponentially pricier one. (You apologise to the boss.) Then, 24 hours after a 28-hour journey, you’re clunking up your umpteenth hill on a 13km fun run that wholly omitted the ‘fun’.

I tell you this because it’s important to understand the lengths one must go to get to know Henry Cavill.

Right now, it’s confusing. There’s absolutely no reason why Cavill shouldn’t be destroying me in this run. But you start to think, you know? Hey, maybe I’m in better shape than I thought? Maybe he’s simply too muscular to carry his body at a brisk pace?

When Cavill does reappear, it becomes obvious in the supreme why I hadn’t seen him. There he is, surrounded by friends and siblings, chatting and jogging at the most pleasant pace, and, wait… yes, literally Instagramming as he goes. (He will later tell me that he wasn’t going at any particularly hard pace but rather at a nice talking pace).

3/16

By the time I cross the finish line – now behind Cavill – I’m well and truly in the red zone. Had I run 40 seconds faster, I would have seen Cavill finish.

He was in the bronzed zone: crossing the line in a trot, cheered on by fans, each of whom clutch a black rectangle and frame Superman’s graceful canter as it slows to a walk that’s wholly unburdened by cramps or shitty conditioning. I won’t see Cavill again in Jersey.

We were meant to get to know each other; timings didn’t work out. But something has to – eventually. There are approximately three stories in the world about Henry Cavill, and they are as follows:

I. Russell Crowe once shot a film at Cavill’s private boarding school. Schoolkid Cavill goes up to him, says hi, asks about acting, and Rusty encourages him. Little while after that, a care package from Rusty, replete with Vegemite, arrives at Cavill’s place. Years later, Crowe is cast as Cavill’s father in Man of Steel.

The pair eventually make the connection, and laugh. The care package is still there in Cavill’s bedroom, perfectly preserved. Good yarn.

4/16

II. Cavill was overweight while studying at said boarding school. Got bullied. Got called ‘Fat Cavill’ – the least catchy, least imaginative pejorative nickname, ever.

Anyway, Fat Cavill went on to become super handsome and was cast as Superman. Cute and endearing; a good yarn.

III. Cavill may or may not have narrowly missed out on a heap of career-making roles, including Bond, Superman (before he became Superman), Lead Vampire in Twilight, and other stuff. Another good yarn.

But those stories have been told. Over and over. And not a whole lot else. Others have tried to get to know Cavill, too. “I have to say I still don’t know the guy too well, and it’s kind of strange,” Stephen Dorff said after working with him on Immortals, a 2011 fantasy film. “I usually know more about people after I work with them. He’s very quiet and to himself. He’s very nice, but I got to know everyone else, but not him.”

Our goal, then, our raison d’coming-here, is to not get Dorff’d. Because there has to be more than this. More to the man who plays Superman. And of course, there is.

5/16

Readily accessible on either of Henry Cavill’s iPhones – one is for drug dealing, he jokes – is a document full of wisdom. It’s one of those dot-pointed lists that gets reposted on Medium or Reddit or wherever, like, once a year.

It’s titled, ‘Advice from an 80-year-old man’. His favourites, which he will read moments before we part ways, are:

19. Be the most positive and enthusiastic person you know.

20. Loosen up; relax. Except for rare life-or-death matters, nothing is as important as it first seems.

26. Be modest. A lot was accomplished before you were born. He says he tries to read the document as often as possible, and it shows.

Cavill nails rules 1 (‘Have a firm handshake’) and 2 (‘Look people in the eye’) as he shakes the hand of every member of the team. You might also say this is a nod to rule 41, ‘Show respect for everyone who works for a living, regardless of how trivial their job’.

6/16

We’re an hour out of London on a bizarre, gritty patch of land that once served as the headquarters for a security company, but is now a chameleonic filming location for television shows, movies, and, yes, magazine photo shoots.

There’s a lot to like about Henry Cavill, the actor and photo-shoot subject. He’s unfalteringly handsome: an unimpeachable 6’0” with hair that curls just so, a comic-book-hero jaw, and a nose dimple that somehow really, really works for him.

Evidently, an abundance of casting directors agree. After being hand-picked from his school to play a role in The Count of Monte Cristo, he churned his way through a wealth of supporting characters (see: Tristan & Isolde; Stardust) before beginning his run of casting near-misses.

Now entering his post-Superman acting prime, Cavill has a skill set that’s perfectly of its time. He’s acted big and small. He’s done the leading man thing, convincingly. He’s done the charming cad  thing, convincingly. Maybe more importantly, he’s healthily meme-able – a crucial skill in the 2018 celebrity playbook. (This was best demonstrated by the fiasco that saw his Mission: Impossible- contract-mandated moustache poorly CGI’d out of some of his scenes  in Justice League.)

7/16

Many of these skills come to the fore in his GQ cover shoot. He leans back on a chair, angling his boulder shoulders just right. Dressed in Zegna, his power pose on point.

At one stage, when the crew wants to get Cavill next to some horses, he shows some thoroughbred competence. A fashion assistant is caught wrist-deep in the mouth of one horse. The great creature snapped up a Nespresso-sized sugar cube from her palm and didn’t want to let go.

Cavill has his moment, placing a hand on its forehead and another near its nose, calming it down with a firm voice, all while wearing a Tom Ford knit and Prada loafers.

Women swoon. Men swoon. The show goes on.

An hour later, when GQ’s fashion editor takes a gentle fall, after stepping on loose tiling, Cavill bolts across a lawn to help her to her feet. (44. ‘Become someone’s hero.’)

Speaking with Henry Cavill is like when you got dragged into a parent-teacher meeting and were trying to muster up the most polished, most studious version of yourself. He speaks in this bassy, royal British accent, and reaches for words like ‘idolatry’ when boring old ‘adoration’ would have done the job.

Speaking with Henry Cavill is also frustrating. He’s persistent in his politeness, persistent in his flawlessness. It’s incredibly pleasant to be around, but also feels a little like a character – a likeable one, but maybe a touch underwritten. You’d say Cavill is as infallible as Superman. But, Superman had Kryptonite; it’s not yet clear what Cavill’s might be.

8/16

Anyhow, for whatever reason, Cavill is never terribly enthused about talking. It was hinted at in Jersey. So too when I was informed that our interview would be taking place in these security headquarters, rather than in London. And it was confirmed when Cavill’s manager announced the need to sit in on our interview.

So, the three of us sit in a dusty office that probably hasn’t been used for half a decade; the blinds a little dilapidated, the carpet worn, the only furnishings the three wholesale-bought, long-forgotten office chairs.

As I set my phone on record, it starts to feel as if I’m about to get Dorff’d. “It’s better to step away,” says Cavill when asked whether he reads his own interviews. “A lot of stuff, in the written word, sounds very different from the intention.”

Cavill is still a little reluctant to open up. When asked what a visit home to Jersey gives him, he says it acts as a chance to reflect on how he’s changed each year.

9/16

So, how has he changed this year?

“The usual things, that people change every year.”

Anything more specific?

“You start to reflect on the past and consider the future while enjoying the present.” (6. ‘Keep secrets’.)

Again, we are empathetic. Cavill is coming off a long run of work: Mission: Impossible – Fallout (the sixth instalment of the Tom Cruise-led action-film franchise in which he plays a moustachioed foil to Cruise’s eternal Ethan Hunt) – was a marathon shoot, and it’s about to enter a marathon publicity tour.

Cavill spent a year working with Tom Cruise, and says precisely what so many say about Cruise. “Tom has got this incredible energy. He’s very charming and very engaging. He will remember details of your first meeting which you don’t remember. You’re person number 600 that he met that day, but he’ll remember your dog’s name and that your brother was unwell that day.”

10/16

Suffice to say, when you’re managing a Mission: Impossible workload, and blockbuster-sized demand, you need to draw lines.

So, Henry Cavill has boundaries. He won’t pose for photos at airports because, in the event of a mob forming, he’d rather not hide in a toilet. He won’t pose for photos at the gym, either – in-between sets is ‘me’ time, and that’s fair. He won’t text at the dinner table – not unless he’s asked permission in advance. (21. ‘Don’t allow the phone to interrupt important moments. It’s there for our convenience, not the caller’s.’)

He has an extraordinarily tight circle of friends, and they’re tightly curated. He’s heard the, ‘You’ve changed’ thing before, and if you’re saying that, you already don’t get it, and you may not have really ever been friends.

11/16

His real friends? They get it. “They go, ‘Wow! He is worked to the bone. Poor guy. I wonder how we can support him.’ Rather than, ‘What’s wrong with you?’”

What really started that working to the bone was Superman – DC Comics’ best rebuttal to the Marvel juggernaut. The week Cavill got the role, he was calm – there was no sense of panic. Maybe that’s because he felt, just a little, that he had a fair bit in common with Superman.

“I love everything he stands for. It was wonderful to have part of my personality fall so in line with a character I can play,” he says.

And what does he stand for? “He stands for the best in all of us. I don’t just mean individually, but in the way that… when we are at our best, everyone else around us is also at their best. And that’s what Superman does: he doesn’t just save the day, he saves the day and makes you feel fantastic enough that you can save the day.”

Of course, playing Superman doesn’t necessarily inspire all onlookers to be at their best. Cavill says he’s had a rough time with the press.

“That still surprises me to this day,” he says. “It’s basically like following someone into a lavatory after they’ve finished in there, and turning around to the room and going, ‘Oh my god!’ Well, OK, I could do the same to you – everyone’s shit stinks.”

12/16

Something woefully underdiscussed, in an era of Instagram and Facetune and summer-blockbuster 8-packs, is how men deal with their own superficial vulnerabilities. Cavill, of course, is a stupidly good-looking, successful actor. But some things still find a way in.

“Back in the day, you could kind of ignore it. Now, with Instagram and all that, if you’re just going through your feed,” he says, feigning scrolling. (Suddenly, he’s talking.) “It’s like, ‘Oh, that’s me looking bad, me looking bad, me looking bad’. You try to ignore it, and you skim past it, but we’re not all feeling amazing about ourselves at all times. ‘That looks like a bad one… ooh, God it is a bad one. Do I really look like that? Are you sure? There’s four photos and I look really bad in all of them’.”

“Because I was a chubby kid. No, no I was chubby,” he insists. “It’s definitely something which does play with your head. That’s probably the worst part of it. Your head can be messed with. But it’s down to me to deal with that.”

When someone is at first reluctant to speak, you take note of what gets them talking. And Henry Cavill is never more talkative than when he talks about his desire to find someone to spend his life with.

“I’ve always been someone who’s put a lot of stock and value in the intimacy of a relationship, of a human partner,” he says.

13/16

He loves his dog, Cal, and would defend him to the death, “but there’s something about having a girlfriend with whom you can share all the difficulties that you go through, or all the great stuff that you go through. It’s so nice to have someone to share the intimate moments with… Even if it’s just that unspoken communication of holding a hand.”

At this point, there’s a not-totally-joking reminder that there’s “one and a half minutes left” in the interview. I ask Cavill what he’s learned from the #MeToo moment we’re in.

“I’ve been fortunate enough to not be around the kind of people who behave that way,” he says. “To my memory there’s been no moments where I look back and think, ‘Ooh, OK, maybe someone shouldn’t have gone through that’. I know there have been situations with people I’ve worked with being perhaps overfamiliar with some of the actresses. But, I’ve always walked up to them and said, ‘Hey, are you all right? That’s creepy’.”

Have the revelations made you reflect on your own behaviour with women? “I like to think that I’ve never been like that. I think any human being alive today, if someone casts too harsh a light on anything, you could be like, ‘Well, OK, yeah, when you say it like that, maybe.’

“But it’s such a delicate and careful thing to say because there’s flirting which, for example, in a social environment is in context – and is acceptable. And that has been done to me as well, in return.”

14/16

“Stuff has to change, absolutely,” he adds, addressing men’s behaviour. “It’s important to also retain the good things, which were a quality of the past, and get rid of the bad things.

“There’s something wonderful about a man chasing a woman. There’s a traditional approach to that, which is nice. I think a woman should be wooed and chased, but maybe I’m old-fashioned for thinking that.

“It’s very difficult to do that if there are certain rules in place. Because then it’s like: ‘Well, I don’t want to go up and talk to her, because I’m going to be called a rapist or something’. So you’re like, ‘Forget it, I’m going to call an ex-girlfriend instead, and then just go back to a relationship, which never really worked’. But it’s way safer than casting myself into the fires of hell, because I’m someone in the public eye, and if I go and flirt with someone, then who knows what’s going to happen?

“Now? Now you really can’t pursue someone further than, ‘No’. It’s like, ‘OK, cool’. But then there’s the, ‘Oh why’d you give up?’ And it’s like, ‘Well, because I didn’t want to go to jail?’”

The conversation hangs in the air more than a little. But time is almost out. It’s shortly after this that I ask Cavill about the best piece of advice he’s been given, and he reads from his trusted iPhone document. We’re then ushered out of the office, and back to London, wondering exactly what was learned.

15/16

Hours later, it happens: I’m crossing London’s Oxford Street a little after 11pm. The pedestrian light turns green, and I’m halfway over. Through the still-backed-up traffic, around a red bus and a black taxi, two sleek figures on a motorcycle weave through the taxis and the people in perfect arabesque, making a beeline straight at me.

They slow a little. The masked figure on the back of the bike uses one hand to grasp my shoulder, and the other – cleverly wearing a leather-glove for extra grip – to yank my phone from my hand.

I swear. I scream. They’re gone around the corner before I can get out the ‘uckers’ in ‘fuckers’. If I could have accessed my iPhone, now zipping through the streets away from Central London, I could have whipped open that godforsaken document.

I could have scrolled to the very bottom, to the final life lesson on the listicle. 50. ‘Don’t expect life to be fair’. And there it goes – the recording – the patiently awaited hour with Superman, gone. All is lost.

But then it hits me. After the missed flights, the aching run, the shortened access, I did something I’ve seldom done before: I had a second recorder going.

There were so many hurdles to getting to know Henry Cavill, that, once in the room, you had to have a back-up plan. Just in case. Just to be sure. And then I remember: the real power of Superman,