Spider-Man (2002)
Rare is the summer movie that offers more than a couple cheap thrills and a sore ass. Even rarer is the big-budget spectacle with emotional content equal to, if not surpassing, its FX budget. Well, say a hossanah for Sam Raimi, dammit, 'cause he's done just that. The cultists have always known what an awe-inspiring technical director Raimi is, and boy, does he prove his mettle here -- I can count on one hand the number of other directors who could have so neatly captured the giddy, vertiginous thrill of being able to fly around New York City at god-knows-how-many miles an hour suspended only by little strings of spiderweb. But his grasp on the richer subtleties of character has proved uneven. (How can the same man have made the brilliantly nuanced A Simple Plan and the lunkheaded For Love of the Game?) Or maybe it's just been his collaborators -- Lord knows he can't take all the blame for Game. At any rate, what I'm getting at here is that there seems to have been some fortuitous alignment of the stars or something, 'cause Raimi was matched with a great script by David Koepp (who also wrote another of this year's better films, Panic Room) and a perfectly cast group of actors. The result is more than just the single best comic book movie in existence, maybe the best possible comic book movie that could ever be made -- it's sheer cinematic alchemy. It's not only funny, exciting, dazzling and all those other adjectives that can be applied to a lot of summer product... it's also pretty deeply affecting. Much of the credit for that can be given to the talented ensemble, with the lion's share laid at the capable feet of Tobey Maguire, who imbues Peter Parker with an appealing awkwardness that makes his transformation into agile world-beater all that much more satisfying. But they'd be stranded without a good script. (I'm looking at you, X-Men.) Koepp's work captures quite well the world of the comic, and he deserves special commendation for preserving the careful balance of love-hate relationships that make for endless drama, enough for five films. The last scene in particular, involving something of a personal sacrifice, is surprisingly touching. Potent stuff.
And if that's not enough for you, a whole bunch of shit blows up too.
Grade: A
Rare is the summer movie that offers more than a couple cheap thrills and a sore ass. Even rarer is the big-budget spectacle with emotional content equal to, if not surpassing, its FX budget. Well, say a hossanah for Sam Raimi, dammit, 'cause he's done just that. The cultists have always known what an awe-inspiring technical director Raimi is, and boy, does he prove his mettle here -- I can count on one hand the number of other directors who could have so neatly captured the giddy, vertiginous thrill of being able to fly around New York City at god-knows-how-many miles an hour suspended only by little strings of spiderweb. But his grasp on the richer subtleties of character has proved uneven. (How can the same man have made the brilliantly nuanced A Simple Plan and the lunkheaded For Love of the Game?) Or maybe it's just been his collaborators -- Lord knows he can't take all the blame for Game. At any rate, what I'm getting at here is that there seems to have been some fortuitous alignment of the stars or something, 'cause Raimi was matched with a great script by David Koepp (who also wrote another of this year's better films, Panic Room) and a perfectly cast group of actors. The result is more than just the single best comic book movie in existence, maybe the best possible comic book movie that could ever be made -- it's sheer cinematic alchemy. It's not only funny, exciting, dazzling and all those other adjectives that can be applied to a lot of summer product... it's also pretty deeply affecting. Much of the credit for that can be given to the talented ensemble, with the lion's share laid at the capable feet of Tobey Maguire, who imbues Peter Parker with an appealing awkwardness that makes his transformation into agile world-beater all that much more satisfying. But they'd be stranded without a good script. (I'm looking at you, X-Men.) Koepp's work captures quite well the world of the comic, and he deserves special commendation for preserving the careful balance of love-hate relationships that make for endless drama, enough for five films. The last scene in particular, involving something of a personal sacrifice, is surprisingly touching. Potent stuff.
And if that's not enough for you, a whole bunch of shit blows up too.
Grade: A
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