It's impossible, going into any movie you even know the slightest bit of information about, to leave your expectations at the door. As a critic, you do your best to be open to what you're about to see. We want the movies to be good. Sure, quietly I think some enjoy (I sometimes do) being able to make fun of a movie we think is just by most standards laughable. But that's when we encounter a movie that actually deserves it. Otherwise, we approach each movie hoping for the best.
Unless, of course, we expect much less. We're only human after all and it's difficult, with the endless promotions, the commercials, the cross-platform tie-ins, and, more importantly, the multiple-film franchises, to not sit down at a screening without some measure of pre-judgment or, worse, outright cynicism.
And so it was with the latest Marvel entry, the superhero reboot, The Amazing Spider-Man. Perhaps the big question going into the movie was simply, Why? Marc Webb's new-ish take on the popular hero comes only five years after Sam Raimi's last venture into the franchise--the no pop, all fizzle, Spider-Man 3. Yet this criticism didn't occur after other franchises returned to square one. Christopher Nolan's Batman reimagining came only eight years after Clooney's codpiece. Marvel's own X-Men franchise also restarted five years after the last of the sequels (only three years if you count the Wolverine prequel). Daniel Craig's debut as 007 was four years after Pierce Brosnan's exit from the series.
That question of necessity, though, has been a peculiarly familiar refrain surrounding this movie. I'll admit to wondering why the desire to rehash this series so quickly. Part of that skepticism I think is a result of the trailer, which was throroughly underwhelming and made Amazing look so, well, un-amazing. The other part, really, is that it didn't seem like it would be that different from the previous series.
And that's an unfair jumping to a conclusion. There are too many outlets now that go to the trouble of actually reviewing trailers (such as these two), actively setting a bar of expectation against which the movie will be arbitrarily judged. Engaging in criticism of them is unnecessary and ridiculous unless it's an analysis of the trailer as a piece of marketing. Using it to cast judgment on the entire film is worse than judging a book by it's Cliff's Notes.
Surely from a marketing standpoint, the easy answer to the question is money. Movies like these easily become tentpoles for the studios and sequels are almost built-in before the first is even released. But to cynically criticize one movie on the basis of fiscal intentions and ignoring the fact that Hollywood movies of ALL types are produced and distributed under similar parameters is both a slight to the legitimacy of the creative minds behind the picture and the sophistication of its audience.
(Oh wait. At some point I should start actually reviewing the movie.)
Supporters of the movie have argued, or perhaps defended, that the story is actually different from the 2002 Spider-Man, but really it's not. Yes, individual details are changed, but the familiar narrative beats of the this one are similar to the earlier incarnation--which of course is to say, similar to most superhero movies, reboots or not.
And that's part of the larger issue here. Nevermind how different it is to Raimi's Spider-Man. What, if any, is the existential difference between it and Superman Returns, or The Avengers, or Captain America: The First Avenger. A teacher late in The Amazing Spider-Man tells the class her old English professor was wrong, that there aren't only ten stories in the history of fiction, but just one. Is that a knowing self-critique? Certainly most stories, especially those in mainstream films, follow a tried-and-true trajectory. Origin stories, of which only some of these superhero movies are, do allow us to see the human side to these superhumans, but once the suits come on and bad guys show up, we end up with the unstoppable force fighting the immovable object.
Which is probably good that the big fight scenes between Spider-Man and The (Insert-Your-Random-Villain-of-Choice) Lizard tick by pretty quickly. (Unlike, say, the loud and never-ending finale to The Avengers.) Webb also relies less heavily on CGI, which at least gives some measure of apparent tangibility to Parker/Spidey's acrobatics--a scene in an alley that ascends to rooftops seems to have more in common with the corporeality of a Jackie Chan flick than a complex algorithm written on an extremely expensive laptop. And when that CGI is used, it is a vastly technically superior example than that of the ones used in the Spider-Man of only ten years ago. Though, regardless of that, I can only take so many POV shots of Spidey flying through the city (and by so many, I mean none at all).
That being said, Webb's direction is merely functional and has a similar overall visual palette to the earlier series. Where, every so often, Raimi would throw in some flair (that Doc Ock scene in the hospital early in Spider-Man 2 for instance) to let you know that it is a Sam Raimi film, Webb proceeds competently, but straightforwardly. While there is nothing inherently wrong with that, it possesses less of a personality, less of a distinctive style Raimi is quite famous for.
But if the film leaves something to be desired in terms of its somewhat tired rehashing, where the movie really shines is in the chemistry between its two romantic leads. Peter Parker/Spider-Man is played very nicely by Andrew Garfield, who played a similarly hapless nerd as the other guy that created Facebook in The Social Network. His school crush is Gwen Stacy and is thankfully played by Emma Stone (who, at this point, needs to be both in every movie and on a date with me) with Margot Kidder-like pluckishness. In fact if you were to imagine a movie like this that was made for adults, their great scene together in the hallway (after he gets in trouble for breaking a backboard in the gym) would perhaps remind you of the wonderful exchange between Superman and Lois Lane on her balcony in Richard Donner's seminal 1978 superhero film (still the best of its kind, in my opinion). That scene, where Peter (sort of) asks Gwen out is glorious in its cutesy awkwardness. When Gwen spins around and for no reason raises her notebook above her head and Peter skips away gleefully, it's the "Awww!" moment of the year in movies and completely grin-inducing.
Upon a second viewing of the film, the lesser aspects of the film I discussed grew more pronounced and I have to admit that I grew a bit tired of everything that didn't involve regular people interacting with each other (not just Garfield and Stone, but also Garfield with Sally Field and Martin Sheen as his aunt and uncle). But Garfield does more than enough to carry the film and, more often than not, when Stone appears on screen the movie comes alive. I can't say for sure whether this incarnation of Spider-Man is an improvement on the previous decade's. I can't even say for sure if this is (or will be) the best comic book movie this summer. I'll leave that up to the die hard fanatics to parse out. If you yourself aren't completely exhausted by the glut of this genre, then at least this one won't make you want to pass out.
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