Spider-Man 2: The Perfect Love Story

A few years back, “Dark Knight” garnered a lot of well deserved attention after it came out, and became a cultural phenomenon. The film became one of the highest grossing in history and changed the landscape of superhero films if nothing else. Christopher Nolan had managed to give the world a film about superheroes that not only fit the character, but brought the audience into the world of the hero, where for an hour and a half, a guy in clown makeup became the scariest thing on the planet. Keep in mind, the Joker is probably the most famous mass murderer in American Fiction, so seeing him up on the screen should create this kind of reaction. Nolan did what Burton and the other previous directors couldn’t: he gave movie audiences the same feeling comic readers have had for over seventy years. Batman was never just a dude in a suit, the Joker was never only a guy with a weird sense of humor, and Harvey Dent wasn’t just an attorney. All three represented something bigger than themselves. Nolan created an almost perfect comic book movie. Too bad Sam Raimi beat him to it.

Spider-Man 2 will always be, in my mind, the first time a comic book movie was done exactly right. Now, first off, let me say that there are plenty of good to great comic movies out there. A lot of people go back to Superman, which I can’t really comment on since it came out thirteen years before I was born, other than to say that I’m sure it was excellent at the time. But the problem I have with that movie, assuming we accept Luthor, is that if Superman can reverse time, why doesn’t he go back and prevent everything bad from happening? Why does he just save Lois? Isn’t that kind of selfish? The movie brings up more moral quandaries and questions about Superman as a person than it should because of that one scene. The first Spider-Man movie was good, but had its share of problems, but a lot of those, aside from having Willem Dafoe dress up in a power ranger costume to play the Green Goblin, were because it was an origin story. Spider-Man 3 had a lot of potential, but between doing what the studio wanted, trying to be funny, and trying to bring a bunch of plotlines together, that got lost in the jumble that was three main villains, two love interests, and an emo Saturday Night Fever dance routine. X-Men 2 is clearly the strongest from that series. Both of the Hellboy films are excellent, even if they don’t follow Mike Mignola’s excellent comic stories. But, still, none of them quite measure up to Spider-Man 2.

Spider-Man 2 stands above all others, because what we get in Spider-Man 2 is a film that gets exactly who Peter Parker is and taps into the reason the audience connects with him. Peter is a guy whose life sucks before he gets powers, and then starts sucking even more after he gets them. You’d think, at the very least, that with his awesome web-slinging powers, he’d be able to deliver a pizza across town on time. Nope. He winds up losing his job because he saves a kid from getting hit by a truck. And that, my friends, is Peter Parker in a nutshell. Peter is trying to balance everything but he just can’t. Between school, saving people’s lives, trying to make rent money, and keeping up with his friends, he’s always letting someone down. He can’t let anyone get hurt, so he takes the pain on himself. If stopping an armed robbery means failing a test, he’ll deal with it. After losing his uncle, Peter can’t bear to see anyone hurt, and he’s always going to feel responsible for allowing it to happen. It’s what defines him. It’s why he’s willing to let the woman he loves marry another man. As an audience, we connect with that, because we’re the only ones who know Peter’s secret, so it hurts us when he doesn’t make enough money at the Bugle. We know he’s a good person, and it’s tough watching him struggle because he does the right thing. Tobey Maguire does an excellent job of portraying Peter, giving him enough angst to balance out the humor, and make Peter really seem like the kindest guy on the planet.

The other side of the coin is Doctor Octopus. Otto Octavius is a scientist who’s trying to make the world a better place by trying to give the world a clean and efficient renewable energy source. But, alas, he doesn’t check his calculations, and everything goes horribly wrong. He winds up killing his wife because of his own hubris and becomes a monster with four mechanical arms. Raimi brilliantly handles making this transformation, giving it the air of a monster movie. I think he’s had some past experience with those. Anyway, the scene in the hospital excellently sets up the power and the horror of the arms, and manages to pay tribute to the classic movie villains while doing so. What we see in Otto is a man who has become overwrought with grief, pride, and outside influence enough to become a monster. He doesn’t want to rule the world or to hurt other people, he’s just concerned with finishing his work. Alfred Molina gives Octavius humanity so that the supervillain becomes someone we understand. When he meets his doom, though, it is as a hero who refuses to “die as a monster.” I wonder if killing Dr. Octopus off was the best answer, but to give the character the proper finale, and to reunite him with his wife, I suppose he has to die. But a point to remember is that Spider-man defeats Octavius not with his fists, but with his mind. There’s no way Peter could have beat him one on one, but because he used his head, he was able to solve the problem. And that’s the magic of Spider-Man: fists don’t solve everything.

Both of these parts of the film, the relatable hero who can’t be with the woman he loves, and the villain who we can relate to, are important pieces to the whole arc of the film. But “Dark Knight” has both of these as well. What puts Spider-Man 2 over the top, in my opinion, is the way it captures the spirit and energy of the character. As great as “Dark Knight” is, it is almost impossible to watch it and walk away smiling. With Spider-Man 2, it’s impossible not to smile. Seeing Peter recite poetry never fails to make me feel awkward. When Doc Ock climbs up the side of the bank with Aunt May, I always gasp. Every time Peter and Mary Jane meet at the end of the film, I can’t help but grin. The film manages to bring enough light and hope to the screen that I can’t help but love every second of it. No matter what’s going on, it makes me feel something. The absolute best part of the film, though, for me, is the end, where finally, FINALLY, our hero, after dealing with his pain all alone while we’ve been with him, has someone who knows his secret, and better yet, appreciates him for it. Say what you will about Kirsten Dunst (and believe me, I’ve said plenty,) the look in her eyes when Mary Jane finally realizes that Peter is Spider-Man is incredible. In that look, she understands how good Peter is and how tough everything he’s been through must have been. She knows how terrible everything she’s taken for granted is. And she realizes how much pain and guilt he carries with him. When they finally kiss at the end of the film, we applaud it not only because the hero gets the girl he’s been chasing all this time, but also because someone finally sees everything that he does. He doesn’t have to carry the weight alone anymore. He’s found someone who is willing to take risks just to be with him because the thought of letting him go it alone anymore is beyond agonizing. And, what’s more, is that we know he deserves it. Seeing Peter finally get kissed as Peter means as much to us as the audience as it does to him. We know that he deserves love, and now, at last, he has it. And nothing is more perfect than that.

Ferris Bueller's Day Off and Spider-Man: Why Dan Slott is John Hughes

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” This line, said by Ferris Bueller is repeated often. You’re likely to hear it at graduation speeches, funerals, and even weddings. The reason for that is simple; people say it because it’s true. We have a tendency to get bogged down in worrying about things we can’t control that we forget to enjoy what we have. The problem with Ferris’ approach, though, is that it requires someone like Cameron to offer the proper balance. Cameron brings reason into Ferris’ world, and while it’s true that Ferris loosens Cameron up from being uptight, Cameron also manages to bring Ferris back down to earth. The two sides need one another to achieve any semblance of balance. Without Ferris, Cameron remains miserable and can never enjoy what he has. Without Cameron, Ferris never takes anything seriously and never accomplishes anything. This relationship is important because it saves them from themselves. We see that they care for one another, but we also see that they need one another, and that’s really why it matters. The pieces of the Bueller crew each represent a different part of

our psyche. Ferris is id, Sloane is ego, and Cameron is superego. Each piece is necessary, and each piece is flawed. John Hughes makes these characters real and endearing so that, decades later, they’re still relevant. That’s part of his magic and one of his big strengths as a filmmaker. Hughes gave these characters enough gravitas and honesty that they didn’t seem fake or stupid or even unlikeable for the most part. He gave us teenagers that weren’t punks when, in real life, many of them most certainly are. That’s why I’ve always thought he would’ve made a great Spider-Man movie.

Obviously, Spider-Man has guilt issues. Like Batman level guilt issues. Letting that thief get away will haunt him forever, and because of that one mistake, he’s bound by his responsibilities to doing everything he can and more to help people. Peter Parker has never thought he did enough to help people. That, really, is the curse that Ben Parker left on his life. No matter what he does, it’s never going to be enough because his uncle’s never coming back. This defines Peter. He will never be light and free to smell the roses because of it. Peter has his responsibilities and that’s what matters. But that’s where Spider-Man comes in. See, Spider-Man is more than Peter’s costumed identity, it’s his outlet. The mask allows him to break lose, to crack jokes, to have fun. The moments he has in costume are easier for Peter because everything is simpler. While he still thinks about things, being in costume means worrying about the rent, how upset his girlfriend is, or even his Aunt’s health takes a back seat. There’s a bad guy and he has to be punched. Even though it makes his life outside the suit more complicated, his life inside the suit is necessary not only because it’s his responsibility but also because it frees him. He doesn’t have any super villains to punch as Peter Parker because they aren’t wearing brightly colored outfits to announce themselves as villains. As Parker, he has to worry about keeping everything a secret unless someone finds out and puts his loved ones at risk. Peter is left with the cleanup that comes from being Spider-Man and the damage that brings to his life. In a way, Peter is Cameron, and Spider-Man is Ferris. Both sides need one another to exist. One without the other misses an integral part of Spider-Man’s endearing characteristics. Spider-Man, above all other things has to be young and he has to be responsible. Because Spider-Man has to be young, I have grown to accept One More Day as time has passed. The youth, the faults, the attitude, all made Spider-Man into what he is today, and if that’s taken away, the character loses the allure. If the responsibility is taken away, though, then the very purpose of the character is demolished. Hughes would’ve been perfect to capture this balance, I think, because he did it so often on camera so often. With his mastery of the drama of high school and his portrayal of kids, Spider-Man might have turned out okay, even back in the 80s. This, oddly enough, brings me to Dan Slott.

In the grand scheme of things, Dan hasn’t written much Spider-Man. Sure he’s done a few storylines in Amazing and other places, and he’s now the head writer on the series going forward. But it’s not like he’s Roger Stern or Stan Lee, in terms of longevity. That being said, he may very well wind up having a better run on the book than either writer. Now, breaking out the Stan comparison is a little unfair, since he set the bar, along with Ditko, back in 1963, and they set it pretty freaking high. But Slott has earned that comparison because he gets the character like only those two other writers have really gotten it. See, when he writes Spider-Man, it’s fun. For whatever reason, writers over the past few runs that have spanned decades have made Spidey seem like a punching bag. Everything gets heaped up on him more and more. When Slott writes it, though, you can tell Peter’s having fun in the costume. What’s more, you can tell that Peter is finally handling his responsibilities outside of the costume better than he ever has, realizing that he has gifts that have to be used that didn’t come with the spider bite. Peter, after being beaten and kicked for thirty years, has finally become his own person with some degree of freedom and a way to make himself better. Slott also manages to improve Spidey’s enemies without discarding their previous incarnations. Doctor Octopus is more dependent on technology, but has more abilities because of it. The Hobgoblin is more unpredictable and better armed than ever before. Venom and the Scorpion have become major villains again. And the Sinister Six are finally back together again for the first time. We’re two issues into what I hope is Slott’s major run on Amazing Spider-Man, but already it’s one of my favorites to date. Regardless of what happens in the future, I have an appreciation for what Slott’s done so far with a character that’s been around for over four decades by making him not only relevant again, but making him as relevant as he was when we first met him so many years ago. Peter Parker is doing great things and might just reach his full potential, in and out of the comic. The sheer joy that comes from reading that book is back now, because you can feel the energy and passion that’s been put into it. And that’s going to carry on for decades as well. Because, just like John Hughes, Slott understands what he’s doing and what the audience needs rather than wants. He’s brought pieces from every run that’s come before him together and made it all important to Peter. He’s not playing Peter as somebody who’s been a spectator in his own life. Slott has made Peter seem more like a real person by making the stories that have come before a real piece of Peter’s life. He’s taken something that many would throw away and made it a key part of who the character is. As a result, not only is Peter more believable since his psyche isn’t fighting itself all the time, but the other characters gain more power as well. Now, everything has a real depth to it, more so than it did before. Carroll O'Connor once said the characters on All in the Family were important because they were real to him. Hughes and Slott both seem to share this feeling. Nothing is unimportant. What's more amzaing, though (sorry for the pun) is that they both make the audience feel the same way. And being able to do that requires a master’s touch.