Learning to fly

THE tall, handsome guy with the square jaw and the Midwest manners was comfortably anonymous when he arrived at the lunchtime patio of Il Piccolino on Robertson, but the staff began whispering when the gentleman stepped back outside to have his photograph taken for a major metropolitan daily newspaper. By the time Brandon Routh sat back down for lunch, his secret identity was pretty much shot.

"They figured out who I am, but, you know, usually I don't get too many people recognizing me. My hairdo in real life is not like Superman. It keeps me pretty safe at this point. But I know it'll happen more when the movie comes out."

The movie is "Superman Returns," which lands in theaters on June 30 and should instantly transform Routh from a mere mortal actor with some soap-opera credits into the iconic hero of a Warner Bros. franchise of the first order. A week before Routh took a corner table and ordered a chicken-and-broccoli pasta dish (what, you expected something with capers?), the young actor was on the cover of Entertainment Weekly for the second time -- not bad for a guy who has so far starred in only a movie trailer. Such is the power of that red-and-blue suit, perhaps the most famous piece of clothing since Santa's fur-lined ensemble.

Principal filming of "Superman Returns," directed by Bryan Singer and also starring Kevin Spacey and Kate Bosworth, wrapped in Australia just before Thanksgiving. Since then, Routh has spent time with his girlfriend, made it home for the holidays with his family in Iowa, and even jetted off to Italy to hoist a torch during the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics. On deck, the promotional circuit for the film will take him to London, Tokyo, Paris, Brazil and other places the small-town kid has never been.

Wearing the cape is a tall order, the 26-year-old knows. He's aware that Christopher Reeve struggled to find other film roles after wearing it, and that, decades ago, George Reeves became bitter when producers didn't want him for other work and kids on the street kicked him to see if he was invulnerable.

"They still might," Routh said. For the record, he promised not to kick back. "I'll just start wearing shin guards."

Over lunch, Routh chewed as much on his thoughts as he did his arugula salad. He spoke carefully too; he has been displeased with some aspects of the early media coverage and he is bracing for the ride through the strange gantlet of the international press junket.