If you’ve read the
review I posted last week, you should know that I enjoyed Marc Webb’s The Amazing Spider-Man quite a bit. With
its spirited action sequences, tender/awkward romance and a near-brilliant lead
performance by Andrew Garfield, the movie represents the beginning of a
promising new franchise, as it (re)introduces the world to a complex, engaging
protagonist and leaves plenty of room for plot and character development in the
inevitable sequels.
God, they're adorable together.
Of course, not everyone agrees with
me. The film currently has a 74% rating on Rotten
Tomatoes, barely fresh, and critical reviews range from glowing
and pleasantly surprised
to lukewarm
and even downright hostile.
I could go through each of the critiques presented in these reviews separately
and discuss why I agree with them or why they leave me speechless with
bafflement and/or irrational resentment (who is Roger
Moore and why does Rotten Tomatoes list him as a “top critic”?), but in the
end, they all pretty much boil down to one overarching theme: that, regardless
of how much effort the film-makers put into the movie or whatever small virtues
it may have, it simply has no reason to exist. It’s the embodiment of
everything wrong with Hollywood nowadays, a lazy, pointless bid for cash that
apparently has
less imagination than the Transformers
movies.
You
know what? I get it. It’s no secret that Sony’s primary reason for making The Amazing Spider-Man was because they
want to retain the rights to the character, which would
be reverted back to Marvel/Disney if not used for a certain period of time.
Long story short, Marvel sold the rights to dozens of its characters to various
movie studios back in the ‘90s, when it teetered on the edge of bankruptcy, so
only Sony Pictures can use Spider-Man and any characters that appear in his
world, 20th Century Fox owns everything X-Men (or Daredevil)-related,
and so on; however, Marvel can regain control of its characters by either 1)
paying a shitload of money to buy them back or 2) waiting long enough that the
movie studio loses interest in the character due to diminishing box office
returns and fails to utilize it by a predetermined deadline. This is why you
see sequels to superhero movies churned out at such a rapid pace, why studios
seem so intent on wearing out beloved franchises and characters like sponges
soaked with too much dishwashing liquid.
Who doesn’t want to watch Nicholas Cage PISS FIRE?
At first, Sony announced a Spider-Man 4 that was supposed to be
released on May 6, 2011, but when would-be director Sam Raimi found himself at
a creative dead end and left the project along with star Tobey Maguire, the
studio went to Plan B, adhering to that age-old (or relatively new, I guess)
Hollywood mantra: when in doubt, reboot. Although this decision makes perfect
sense from a business perspective, needless to say, it’s a pretty shitty deal
for fans like you and me who would rather not have to see Spidey’s origin story
over and over and over again. This generation may have attention spans shorter
than a goldfish’s, but it takes longer than a decade for most of us to forget
that a certain movie existed. Do we really
need to be reminded of how Peter Parker got bitten by a radioactive spider, acquired
superpowers and started rescuing the citizens of New York City from nefarious evildoers
again? What’s more, as Time pointed
out, if Sony had been willing to let the Spider-Man franchise die, Marvel
would have reclaimed the character rights, and Spider-Man could have appeared
in the Avengers movie and any sequels
or spin-offs. Instead, all we as audience members can do is wait until Spider-Man
ceases to be profitable for Sony, which, in all likelihood, might never happen
(to be fair, though, the prospect of seeing Tobey Maguire in an Avengers movie doesn’t exactly make me
jump up and down).
That’s the bad news.
The good news is that, contrary to
what many reviewers have said, The
Amazing Spider-Man did actually bring something worthwhile to the table.
Maybe in terms of the basic narrative, it was virtually a step-by-step remake
of the original 2002 installment, but in terms of tone and character
development, the two versions aren’t all that similar.
Remember how I mentioned in my
review that I hadn’t watched any of the Sam Raimi movies in a while? Well, a
couple days ago, I did myself a favor and popped Spider-Man into my DVD player to refresh my memory; what I found
out was that at least for me, The Amazing
Spider-Man improved upon its predecessor in almost every way. Of course,
the original still has its charm: the scene in which Peter struggles to figure
out how to activate his web-shooting powers, using every method from a
thumbs-up to gang signs, is funny and endearing, J.K. Simmons kicks ass as J.J.
Jameson, and there’s a certain appeal to Raimi’s attempt at recreating the feel
of comic books from the early 1960s, when Stan Lee first originated Spider-Man.
Even so, only a decade after the movie’s initial release, it feels almost
hopelessly outdated. In addition to the mediocre CGI, which makes the action
scenes resemble something out of a second-rate video game, Tobey Maguire’s
Peter Parker feels like a stereotypical nerd from the 1980s, with his large (fake-looking)
plastic glasses and his timid, occasionally barely audible voice; the only
thing missing is his computer, which is strangely nonexistent despite the fact
that the movie supposedly takes place in the 21st century. But the thing that really caught my eye this
time around is the film’s portrayal of Mary Jane Watson. I can’t blame Kirsten
Dunst (though she’s undoubtedly given much better performances), but the truth
is, Mary Jane is the definition of a damsel in perpetual distress, existing for
no reason other than to look gorgeous and get rescued by Spider-Man over and
over (and over) again. It may be a familiar, long-standing trope, but that shit
does not fly in our post-feminist, equal-opportunity world. It’s revealing that
the last scene of the movie involves Peter Parker telling Mary Jane that he
can’t be involved in a romantic relationship with her because he has to protect
her; evidently, Spider-Man has never taken a class in social psychology.
And
then, there’s the little matter of Spider-Man
3. How that film has any defendants, I’ll never understand.
Why does this exist in my memory?
All in all, The Amazing Spider-Man presents an opportune chance to start the
franchise fresh and hopefully learn from Raimi’s mistakes. This time around,
Peter Parker trades in the ‘70s-era glasses and dorky haircut for a hoodie and skateboard,
portrayed by Webb and Garfield not as a punching bag for high school bullies
but as a loner who shuns social interaction simply because it’s in his nature
to. As Webb points out in an
interview, nerds are no longer treated as pariahs by society, and after
years of being confined to a contemptible stereotype, it’s refreshing to see
Hollywood provide us with some intelligent characters that are also competent
and/or charismatic. By wiping the slate more or less clean, Webb is able to
explore aspects of Spider-Man that were either completely disregarded or merely
hinted at in the original trilogy. For one, we get to see more of Peter
Parker’s school life, which has always been a significant part of his
character: in a time when teenage superheroes were typically relegated to the
role of sidekick, Spider-Man represented a protagonist to whom adolescents
could relate, with his youthful recklessness and debilitating insecurities.
Webb gives us a richer and more complicated version of Peter Parker, as he examines
the effect of his parents’ absence (particularly that of his father) on his
inner psychology and motivations. Although Maguire did a fine enough job of
conveying his surface attributes, Garfield’s lifelong passion for Spider-Man is
evident in the way he buries himself in the role, perfectly capturing its many
subtleties and crafting a character that feels nuanced, relevant and utterly
believable.
Lastly, this reboot allows the filmmakers to correct one of the
most grievous errors made by the Raimi films: Gwen Stacy. Considering the
enormous influence she has on Spider-Man in the comics, it’s perplexing
that Raimi didn’t introduce Gwen until Spider-Man
3, and even then, she was my personal least favorite element of that movie
(yes, even worse than the infamous emo dance scene). She was supposed to be
Peter’s first true love, and her fate is considered a crucial point in
Spider-Man’s journey, yet Raimi used her as nothing more than a plot device to
create artificial tension in the romance between Peter and Mary Jane. I’m not sure I trust whoever handles the Amazing Spider-Man sequels to go through
with Gwen Stacy’s original storyline (in case you haven’t noticed, people in
Hollywood are generally wimps), but judging by this first installment, Emma
Stone appears to have nailed the character. Smart, attractive and charming, she
may still technically fit into the standard girlfriend mold, and she’s nowhere
near as psychologically complex as Peter Parker, but she’s one of the few
female characters in any superhero movie that’s capable of taking care of
herself, thank you very much, which automatically makes her a million times
better than Mary Jane Watson.
Still, the criticism of The Amazing Spider-Man should not be
ignored, and even if it isn’t entirely accurate or deserved, it says a lot
about the current state of superhero movies. For a genre that reached
legitimacy only a decade ago, superhero blockbusters are growing old pretty
quickly. At what point do we as an audience decide we’ve had enough of
attractive people who dress in spandex and fight lunatic criminals via the
power of computer-generated effects? Sure, comic books have flourished for almost
a century, but Hollywood is sadly unimaginative when it comes to adapting them.
With the exception of Batman Begins,
which led people to discover that (gasp!) superhero movies can actually be
dark, and, to a lesser extent, The
Avengers, which proposed the idea of putting multiple superheroes in one
movie, superhero movies tend to stick painfully close to the same formula:
introduce the hero, introduce the villain, have hero overcome some sort of
internal obstacle (usually with the help of a love interest), cue an epic
showdown that hopefully includes massive amounts of property damage. You can
only watch Manhattan get demolished so many times before you realize you’ve
seen it all before. If it wants to avert the impending onset of superhero
fatigue, sooner or later, Hollywood will have to start thinking outside the
box: take risks, try different things and, most of all, don’t be afraid to
stray from the source material if necessary. There will inevitably be some
outcry from overly protective fans, but they’re a minority of the general
population, and chances are, if it’s a good movie, it won’t matter how
unfaithful an adaptation it is.
Also,
memo to advertisers: you’re not doing yourself any favors by marketing a remake
as if you actually expect people to forget that the original existed.
It’s a cool-looking poster, but I’m going to call B.S.
on the tagline.
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