Lois Lane screams as she falls from the top of a Metropolis skyscraper because, well, that’s just what she does.

A crowd gathered on the sidewalk watches her tumble through the air, faces locked in horror as they anticipate the ensuing grisly scene. Then whoosh!

In a blue-and-red blur, a mysterious flying man streaks across the sky, settles under Lois, and lifts her gently upwards. And hey, bonus: He’s kinda cute.

“Don’t worry,” he tells Lois. “I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me?” she asks. “Who’s got you?”

It’s an iconic scene from Richard Donner’s 1978 movie “Superman.” Played by Christopher Reeve, it still holds up as the best big-screen interpretation of the character thus far. Fun and unapologetically ridiculous, it’s a treat to watch, but it’s got one one liability.

Special effects. It was 1978, and they kinda stunk.

Maybe that’s unfair. I’m sure they were revolutionary at the time, along with Star Wars’ space battles and Burt Reynolds’ toupee. But you look at the flight scenes 40 years later and it’s clear that Mr. Reeve was dangling from a wire somewhere while images of a cityscape were superimposed behind him. It’s a far cry from the effects of today, what with all the talking apes and green hulks and portals opening up to alternate dimensions. Comparing 1978’s “Superman” effects with those of 2013’s “Man of Steel,” for example, is like comparing the Mona Lisa to a Bazooka Joe comic. Not to slander Bazooka Joe or anything. I mean, it’s not like he’s Pauly Shore.

Despite the huge disparity in visuals, though, “Man of Steel” — also about Superman — just isn’t as good as the original Christopher Reeve version. It lacks a certain something. Like, you know, a fun story.

Sometimes I’m so old-school that even my contemporaries roll their eyes. I still listen to CDs and read books made out of paper, like some outmoded Dickensian artifact — or a guy who was alive in 1996, your pick. I use cameras to take pictures and phones to make phone calls. Weird, wild stuff. Some of these preferences are merely idiosyncratic, but I think I’m onto something with the whole special effects thing. When was the last time you spent two hours in a theater absorbed in snappy dialogue and a well-crafted plot? Bet it’s been a while. Now when was the last time you spent two hours in a theater being bombarded by exploding spacecraft and computer animation so thick it’s like congealed jelly on the screen? You see my point.

And hey, I’m no movie elitist. Exploding spacecraft can be a jolly good time, and anybody who’s put up with my shenanigans on a regular basis knows I’m prone to people donning colorful tights and fighting crime with their fists. There’s a movie called “Captain America: Civil War” in which one group of impossibly athletic demigods in ridiculous costumes fights another group of impossibly athletic demigods in ridiculous costumes. It was the most fun I’ve had in a theater since that time in high school when I got to hold hands with a real live girl.

But I’m a fan of all eras of cinema, and the ’40s through the ’70s definitely posted a better batting average when it came to original scripts and compelling stories. Consider a 1960 movie called “The Apartment.” Jack Lemmon plays a middle-tier sad sack at a New York insurance company who tries to make an impression with his bosses by lending them his apartment so they can conduct illicit sexual affairs in private. One of the women caught up in these affairs is played by Shirley MacLaine, and she and Lemmon’s character get goo-goo eyes for each other, and … well, lets just say no one fires lasers at a robot dinosaur or ninja-kicks a mutant rabbit. Unless there’s a deleted scene somewhere I haven’t seen.

Compelling stuff, and there’s nary a digital effect in sight. Heck, digital effects didn’t even exist in 1960. If you wanted to depict two humanoid lizards fighting each other with fencing swords, you had to get two fencing swords, two lizard suits, and two desperate actors with no sense of self-esteem. All that’s required now is a computer programmer who hasn’t yet developed carpal tunnel syndrome.

“The Apartment” isn’t a sequel, an adaptation of a book, a fantasy epic or a sci-fi thriller. It’s a comedy/drama with actors, sets, cameras and little else. And it’s fantastic. As Hollywood looks to diversify its representation in the future, as it should, it would do well to remember some of its key storytelling moments from the past. Something’s been gained; something’s been lost.

Even when a pre-digital movie decided to borrow from the sci-fi and fantasy realms, like Donner’s “Superman,” effects simply weren’t capable of taking center stage. When they existed, it was to serve the plot. “Man of Steel,” by contrast, was like a video game in which the objective was to smash your enemy’s face into as many skyscraper windows as you could manage. It was entertaining, but in a one-dimensional way, like seeing bloopers of skateboarders taking nosedives into street signs.

“Superman” worked because the audience cared. That’s what happens when you’re encouraged to use your imagination. Flights of fancy work best when they take place inside the mind, and with the recent proliferation of high-dollar blockbusters that value flash over substance, that aspect of cinema has been largely relegated to the past.

Largely … but not completely. There will always be an audience craving some modicum of depth from filmmakers; we’re willing to suspend our disbelief if given a well-crafted, well-acted narrative. That’s why, even as far back as 1978, it was possible to believe a man could fly.

— It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Jeff Lagasse, an editor for a Portland media company! He loves movies and silly cartoons in almost equal parts. Jaw with him about either at jelagasse@gmail.com.