Spoilers ahead.
It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Some of that has to do with what a tumultuous and transitive year 2024 has shaped up to be. It’s been almost a full year since I lost my job and therefore the second life-altering shift in five years (hi, COVID). But the months since have been revelatory not only in regards of my own perseverance but also for what I have been able to accomplish in that time. The last piece of Telgora’s third arc releases this weekend. I got a new job and am preparing to expand not only the business as it stands, but to assist in the opening and development of a new place! The creative outlet of a drinks program will again feature in my life, and I cannot be more thrilled for it. I wrote two novels and two scripts. One of those scripts is being produced in Boston—and if everything goes right, I will be sitting and watching a production of my play this spring!
For it all, I’ve neglected this blog a bit. Which is a shame, because I’d like to keep this up as a way to keep structured and reflective. Moreso, if there’s been an anthem for this year, it’s been from the movie next on my list of personal Top Ten Movies of All Time.
“Above all, no matter how many times you get hit, can you get back up?”
-Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
This was actually one of the hardest movies to place on this list, in part because it almost didn’t make it. I always try to be clear with the people I speak to about one thing: I am not a Marvel fan. I am a Spider-Man fan. I think, honestly, that he is the best superhero and encapsulates everything people like about superheroes with everything that would be “realistic” about being a superhero. He’s idealistic, both in regards to how I view him as a character and in how he is as a person.
And, let’s be fair, cinematic adaptations of Spider-Man have been mixed.
That didn’t mean it hasn’t been an enjoyable web-slinging ride—far from it. Spiderverse’s place on this list was almost taken by Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2 (2004). Spider-Man 2 is campy fun, unapologetically absurd (a required trait on this list), funny in ways it probably doesn’t intend, and almost saccharine in its sincerity. Plus it has Alfred Molina as Doc Ock, the greatest supervillain of all time (okay, that might be stretching it, but come on. “Butterfingers!”)
I also unironically enjoy the dubstep battle “Itsy-Bitsy Spider” scene from Marc Webb’s (hehe) The Amazing Spider-Man 2, but don’t tell anyone.
It was supposed to be Tom Holland that liberated us from this, and to be fair his portrayal of Spider-Man was refreshing and revitalizing. But Marvel would be outdone by Sony and the medium of animation, and through a Spider-Man who wasn’t even Peter Parker.
Let’s be real: being a superhero sucks. This is an element of the genre which Spider-Man understands more than the rest, especially in the current incarnation of superheroes. The benefits of being Batman are also being billionaire (if orphaned) Bruce Wayne. The benefits of being Captain America are being Steve Rogers (hot). That’s before we get to being genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark.
It's been said that while everyone wants to be Spider-Man, nobody wants to be Peter Parker (or Miles Morales). This is something which Spiderverse nails in its opening and continues beating into us over the course of the movie, and it’s something which is essential to Spider-Man-ing (it’s a verb!). The (occasionally literal) spectre of great expectations hanging over Mile’s head makes itself known from the movie’s onset and looms large throughout. A new kid at school, a new superhero on the block, divided loyalties to his family and to himself, all with the promise of something greater out there entwined with the knowledge of just how burdensome being great might be.
There is a relatable, awkward charm to Miles Morales (voiced by Shameik Moore) which endears him instantly to the audience. Something has to be said about the gloriously awkward way he tries to be cool, and the genuine ways in which he is. This is as much a performance about him as a human being before he becomes anything like a superhero—and this is what winds up serving him well through the trials of the film. That sense of being torn, of trying in spite of the pressure being place upon him, of the ongoing drumbeat of the Spider-Man “get back up” attitude pervades Mile’s character. By the end, it is an emotional through-line as much as a charm, and something which provides Spiderverse weight and authenticity.
Whereas Miles represents the beginning of a story, our two Peter Parkers represent diverging endings. Enough cannot be said about the bold decision to kill the ostensibly eponymous hero of this story near its beginning. The death of this ur-Spider-Man (oh, I’m getting fancy) allows us to reexamine not only the pressures of being a superhero but also gives us a lens into what could be called the “real life” of one. For as the peak-performance Spider-Man perishes young, what could be considered “our” Spider-Man comes to life in the form of Peter B. Parker. The wear, tear, and what could politely be called wisdom of the years of a superhero lifestyle instantly grate against what we imagine an idealized superhero to be—and that’s to Spiderverse’s benefit.
The core of the movie remains not so much what it means to be a perfect Spider-Man, but to be your own Spider-Man. Identity, secret and otherwise, plays such an integral part of Spiderverse’s story, and serves as a thematic counterpoint to Mile’s great expectations. There is a real sense of this movie as a coming-of-age tale—of a person figuring out who and what they could be and the impact they can make on the world around them. Not everyone, it’s true, is set to be bitten by a radioactive spider. But there are calls to action in all our lives, powers we may have without realizing it, and people around us who we love and support and who we are in turn loved and supported by. Spiderverse does not shy away from just how important these connections are and encourages their continued development and the development of the understanding required to maintain these connections and relationships.
“My friends actually call me Liv. My enemies call me Doc Ock.”
Dr. Olivia Octavius (Kathryn Hahn)
It was once said in Phineas and Ferb that a hero is a hero, but everybody loves a good villain. To that end, I honestly think Spiderverse holds the record for the first movie to make me actually cheer in a theatre. The row in front of me jumped and my girlfriend at the time was instantly embarrassed beyond belief. But how could I help myself? A simple answer to a simple question: “What did you say your name was, again?” While Kingpin makes for a fantastic antagonist, two of his henchmen steal the show—one on sheer surprise and entertainment, the other for design and gravitas.
The pure evil joy this Doc Ock radiates makes for an unbelievably entertaining villain who pays homage to the camp and fun of superheroes while proving why Doc Ock is one of the greatest supervillains in the genre (at some point I will rant about how Doc Ock’s powerset is the embodiment of controlling/using one’s surroundings as a weapon and why that’s incredible, but I am currently sober, so).
But if there’s one villain (lightly used term now) for which Spiderverse will be remembered, I can’t help but think it will be Prowler. Prowler, voiced by Mahershala Ali, not only abides by the distinction of a supervillain versus a regular villain (cue Megamind shouting “Presentation!”) but also as a narrative answer to so many of the questions Spiderverse poses and an incredibly effective use of the rule of cool. First is, naturally, Mahershala Ali’s voice, automatically the coolest piece of whatever it’s in, but there’s also Prowler’s color, technology, and sound design and score. Every element builds him up as a threat unlike any in the movie, only for the rug to be pulled out from all of us when it’s revealed that Prowler is Spider-Man’s Uncle Aaron. Then the movie takes that pulled rug, curls it up, and beat us with it as Kingpin kills Prowler and cues up Spiderverse’s take on the iconic power and responsibility scene.
“This is a pretty hard-core origin story.”
-Spider-Man Noir (Nicolas Cage)
At its heart, this speech, this moment, and this movie are the core of the appeal of Spider-Man. It’s a sobering of the power-fantasy that is heroism of any kind, and especially of superheroism. It’s a welcome breath of air into both sides of the debate—the great expectations placed on Miles in this situation and the joy felt at gaining the power to do something about the world around him.
Outside of all the grandeur of themes and writing, which is saying a lot, there’s so much more about this movie to find appealing. The animation style remains evolutionary, and brokered an end to the domination of the soft-3D style of Disney and Pixar. The music, licensed and original, interwove seamlessly—highlighting not only the uniqueness of certain characters but of the kind of story being told. You can hear how much fun everyone had voicing the characters (special nod to Nicolas Cage because his performance is show-stealing given how small his role was).
There’s so much to that, too. Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse is also just downright fun, and that cannot be overstated. Yes it has its serious emotional moments, deep underlying themes, empowering arc, but this is a movie that understands the appeal of its medium and genre to its core. A lot of that comes from the side characters, the more idealized Spider-People. But the action stays exciting, the quips land, the jokes flow naturally, and it all comes together in such a beautiful, entertaining, almost timeless package.
There are times in one’s lives where one realizes they are watching the advent of something new, great, and wonderful. When I made the impulse decision to go to a movie I had only heard of in passing out of my own nostalgic curiosity, I did not know then that this would happen to me. But then a character I had grown up with not only dies on screen but is, in more ways than one, reborn, and every trope and every tool of comic book movies was turned against me, and every rule of animation rewrote themselves in giant, immaculately artistic strokes.
This was it, I realized. Something new, and great, and wonderful. And rare.
And one which probably didn’t need a sequel, but that’s a rant for another day.