Man of Lead (A Post-Credits Postmortem)

Every week during the Summer of Superheroes, SuperMike Matthews breaks down the ins and outs of a current superhero franchise. Spoilers may follow, so read at your own risk.

                                      

This Week: SUPERMAN! 

Okay guys. Time for my secret shame.

For as much as I pretend to know about superheroes, I actually have very little firsthand experience with Superman. I’ve never read a Superman comic, I’ve never seen a full episode of a Superman TV show, and until this week, I’d never even seen a Superman movie from start to finish.

That’s not to say I don’t know anything about Superman. I have vast reserves of affection for all of American pop culture, and Superman is far too big a part of that to fall by the wayside. He simply belongs to the long list of properties for which that very real, very strong affection fails to translate into emotional investment*. All the same, even if I was capable of remaining my usual, trivia-dispensing self this week, putting the Super-mythos into its proper context would require a lot more work than in previous posts.

 * This list also includes the Ninja Turtles, whose new movie I will be seeing next month, no matter what you may claim it’s done to your childhood. 

See, comics have a well-deserved reputation as a difficult medium for newcomers to get into, but Marvel and DC contribute to that reputation in very different ways. While Marvel sports an extremely dense, 70-plus-year history, the fact that it has remained consistent means it can be summarized, at least in theory. DC, on the other hand, has more explicit entry points for new readers, but has gone through several company-wide reboots since they got their start, making it difficult to latch onto a definitive version of any one character. For this week’s post, for instance, I went to look up Pa Kent’s official cause of death, and came back with four equally valid answers. He’s never been ‘resurrected,’ per se; he just kind of died four different ways in four separate continuities, with each new one overwriting the last. Which version of events to you defer to in a situation like that? The first, or the most recent? It’s questions like those that make it difficult for someone – no matter how experienced – to feel like they have a real grasp of the DC Universe.

For those reasons, I was tempted to write this week’s post on Man of Steel from an outsider’s perspective, judging the plot strictly on its own merits and not taking into account the fact that it is, specifically, a Superman movie. Unfortunately, I literally do not have the self-control to sustain such a perspective, so we’ll have to compromise: there will be some discussion of how to best utilize Superman as a character, but there will be no links, no footnotes, and no shop talk beyond the stuff that everyone already knows. Sound fair?

All right.

If you weren’t already aware, Man of Steel was something of a controversial movie, and not just because of its suspect level of quality. It’s been subject to a higher-than-usual level of nitpicking, which may be another symptom of premeditated malice towards reboots, but there are also a number of fans who, for very valid reasons, felt that the movie was a complete disservice to its title character. We’ll get to that topic later, but to start off, as someone who was able to go this into film with no emotional baggage besides the opinions I’d heard, what did I think?

It was okay. Little long.

See why I couldn't do the outsider thing?

Let’s see if we can expand on that a bit.

One of the main things that stuck out to me immediately after watching Man of Steel was that the first real plot point doesn’t occur until around the 40 minute mark, when Lois Lane is finally introduced. That’s not okay in any movie, let alone a summer blockbuster. Up to that point, the film is just Superman’s origin story – which, again, I feel like everyone probably knows already – and a series of little vignettes from Clark’s past and present. I’ll admit that those vignettes are all cool moments*, but the order in which they come is completely disjointed, with no intuitive links between them. It all reads as though the writer decided to skip Clark’s childhood and go straight to the character as an adult, only to then realize that, no, actually, he didn’t want to do that.

 * I especially loved the scene where Clark’s powers suddenly activate themselves while he’s in the middle of class; it’s a wonderful depiction of what it must be like to have Superman’s abilities 24/7, and made me sympathize with the character for the first time in… well, ever. 

I just can’t help but feel that if this film had spent its first act with Lois, beginning with her first cryptic encounter with Clark, and then following her investigation of his past, it would be much more engaging. After all, one of the main questions the movie raises is what mankind would do if it found out that someone like Superman existed, so why not take some time to actually explore that? We don’t really need that Krypton nonsense (with apologies to Russell Crowe), and painting Superman as a mysterious, unknowable figure in the opening scenes would make the audience more invested by inviting them to connect some of the dots themselves. Viewers like to have their intelligence respected, which is something Man of Steel kind of opts out of. As opposed to ‘show, don’t tell,’ its motto seems to be ‘show, then tell, then tell again, just in case.’ If you cut out the telling – and some of the showing – the movie becomes shorter and more digestible without losing any real substance. Plus, each stop Lois makes on her way to Smallville corresponds to one of the flashbacks anyway, so you get to keep them around, and have the added benefit of putting them in a reasonable order.

Refreshing as it would have been to focus on Ms. Lane for a bit, I doubt that any studio would have been willing to make Man of Steel without Superman firmly seated as its true main character, and that’s… fine, I guess?

Little known fact: Lex Luthor is a strong proponent of feminism.

That’s not what I’m here to argue, in any case. The point is, this is a story about Clark Kent, and if the movie is going to succeed, we need to care about what happens to him. I’m not sure if Man of Steel really achieves that, and if it doesn’t… well, that alone is sufficient to condemn the overall film. I think that if you found the movie lacking in that department specifically, it was for a combination of two reasons: Agency and Stakes.

Clark’s emotional arc within the film is established early on, and is set up well enough: is Earth is ready to accept him, and if it isn’t, should that prevent him from helping people anyway? For a long stretch of the film, the first question is treated as the more important one – something that left a bad taste in my mouth, and the mouths of many others, by the sound of it – but in the end, Clark decides that the first question is irrelevant, because the answer to the second question is a resounding NO. The trouble, then, is that I never believed that Clark was in the right headspace to reach that conclusion of his own free will. Instead, he's completely reactionary, with all of his big choices being made basically at gunpoint, spurred on by the arrival of General Zod and his various ultimatums. From the moment Zod starts issuing threats, Clark’s binary switches from “Do I reveal myself or not?” to “Do I save the Earth or not?” Assuming both are viable options in that second case, you’d have to be a pretty massive dick to choose to do nothing, regardless of who you are or what you might need to sacrifice.

Pictured: Pretty Massive Dicks

A choice like that becomes even less difficult for Superman, due to the fact that so few things are capable of harming him, let alone killing him*. That can be used as an interesting narrative tool, to be sure, but if you try to make use of conventional tropes, it robs the story of any sense of stakes or danger and becomes a weakness. When Superman is caught in an explosion, you’re never left wondering “is he okay?” because he’s almost always okay. In fact, Zod is one of the few villains that can match Superman physically, meaning that things from here on out will only get easier for him.

 * Besides the well-known Kryptonite, Superman also has a notable vulnerability to magic. With a writer like David Goyer helming the franchise, though, we’ll see magic make an appearance on the same the day that our yellow sun finally burns itself out. (See Sidebar) 

Superman’s most significant weaknesses, then, are those that he imposes upon himself. As a being with unspeakable levels of power, he is constantly showing restraint, and his true heroism lies in his ability to maintain that restraint, even under extreme circumstances. Comic-book Superman, when given the choice between saving lives and making things easier for himself, will always choose the former, and he always abides by a strict ‘no-kill’ policy.

And there we have our problem.

Many, many fans of Superman were devastated by the hero’s apparent lack of concern regarding the collateral damage that he causes in Man of Steel’s second half, saying that the real Superman would never allow fights like those to go on in populated areas. At the very least, he would prioritize keeping the population safe over actually defeating his opponent, something that this Superman certainly doesn’t take into account. Prominent comic book writer Mark Waid wrote an excellent piece summing up that side of the argument, but if you don’t feel like taking time away from this Man of Steel blogpost to go read another Man of Steel blogpost, his basic point is this: presenting Superman as someone who undoubtedly killed thousands of people, accidentally or otherwise, only increases the size of the middle finger that is given to the audience when Superman snaps Zod’s neck to save the lives of a single family.

Spoiler Alert

I largely agree with that, and until I saw the film myself this week, it was pretty much the only Man of Steel talking point that I had at my disposal. However, I do think there are some legitimate counterarguments, especially when you don’t take preconceived notions of Superman into account, so I’m going to play the devil’s advocate here.

For one thing, we know that Zod is just as powerful as Superman, and therefore can’t possibly be detained or incarcerated. With nothing left to lose, he will not, under any circumstances, give up his killing spree, so, at least as presented in the final draft of the script, there’s really nothing you can do with him besides kill him.

The other argument is that Superman isn’t quite Superman yet. He’s inexperienced, his moral code hasn’t solidified, and he hasn’t learned the full extent of his power, so he doesn’t know how to minimize the damage he causes. And most importantly, let’s not forget that Clark spent his whole life up to this point hearing his father tell him that other people might have to die if saving them means making things harder on you. That is LITERALLY the polar opposite of everything that Superman is supposed to stand for, but flawed characters are not the indication of a flawed writer. In fact, they’re often the opposite. Throughout this film, Clark is relearning his core morality from scratch, so if all those deaths are anyone’s fault, they're Pa Kent’s, and maybe David Goyer’s for thinking that a moral like that was even a remotely good idea.

Ideology aside, it's still a bad choice simply from a dramatic perspective. A Superman with no secret identity to protect and no strong feelings about loss of life gives us absolutely nothing to invest in, because it's hard to imagine an outcome that our hero would consider unsatisfactory. Films like The Dark Knight or The Winter Soldier are so great because they aren't afraid to make their heroes suffer. Sure, they may not lose outright, but their ideals are strong enough that what most would call a victory can still feel like a failure in their eyes. Superman's closest thing to a stated goal in Man of Steel is "make the bad guys go away," which is both broad enough that he can't possibly fail, and vague enough to feel hollow when he inevitably succeeds.

I think the most optimistic way to look at Man of Steel is as a kind of Superman: Year Zero deal, with the next film being the first true appearance of the entity we all know and love as Superman. After all, it's not until the very end of the movie that we finally get Clark-Kent-as-alter-ego, and any way you slice it, Man of Steel doesn't boast a particularly joyful or triumphant ending - the most positive thing you can say about it is that "not everybody died." If that ends up as being representative of the DC house style... well, the rest of this franchise is going to be a real slog. But if DC's next film plays off all the destruction, forcing Superman to reconsider how he uses his abilities, perhaps allowing someone like Lex Luthor to use the damage in a smear campaign against him, and motivating him to reinvent himself as the inspirational hero he's always been meant to be, it would prove a really interesting direction for all this to go. So far, publicity photos from said next film, sporting the uplifting and not-at-all grim title of Batman v. Superman, don't inspire much confidence that that will be the case, but all we can really do for now is wait and see.

A Word on the Screenwriter

David S. Goyer is an extremely successful writer of comic-book movies (having worked on both Man of Steel and the Dark Knight trilogy, among others) who, for some inexplicable reason, seems deeply embarrassed by his own line of work. His projects are characterized by a stripped-down, ‘realistic’ approach to whatever character he’s writing, and he isn’t afraid to toss out any elements that he deems too silly, like say, iconic costume elements, or the character’s actual superhero name. Goyer is the reason there was so much crap about Kryptonian science in Man of Steel’s first half; he was trying to justify the logic behind Clark’s origin, as if a story about a super-powered space baby who crash-lands in Kansas will ever be believable. I’m a pretty level-headed person, but I nearly lost it when I saw that Henry Cavill is billed in Man of Steel’s credits as “Clark Kent/Kal-El.” Take a second to consider the implications of that.

THE ACTOR PLAYING SUPERMAN IN THIS SUPERMAN MOVIE IS NOT BILLED AS SUPERMAN. THAT IS HOW BADLY DAVID GOYER WANTS HIS MOVIES TO NOT BE COMIC BOOK MOVIES.

I hate to keep making comparisons between DC and Marvel, especially since it’s pretty clear which side I come down on, but there’s a moment in the second Thor movie where a group of people gather around to watch a fight in the middle of London. Most of them are recording it on their phones, and when they’re warned to get out of the way, one replies: “You’re crazy, right? That’s Thor out there! He’s swingin’ his hammer around and everything!” It’s a supremely silly moment, but it’s able to accept the character for what he is, while still feeling as genuine and real as anything Man of Steel has to offer.

Anyway.

Whatever Happened Will Happen to the Man of Tomorrow?

In a word: Batman. In a substantially larger number of words: Batman, and Lex Luthor, and Wonder Woman, and Aquaman, and Cyborg.

Man of Steel was the beginning of DC’s attempt to replicate the MCU (the DCCU, or Dikku, if you will), and by the looks of things, the company has no intention of easing themselves into it. Superman’s next film appearance will be 2016’s Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice, an increasingly crowded film that will not only feature the two title characters, but also all of the heroes and villains that I listed in the above paragraph. We don’t know too much about it yet, but it appears that Batman’s arc – and definitely his look – will be borrowed largely from Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns. Also, it’s gonna have Aquaman played by Khal Drogo, so I already bought my ticket.

Hell to the yeah!

Following that is a Shazam! movie (perhaps starring The Rock), followed by Justice League, Wonder Woman, a Flash/Green Lantern team-up, and then, finally, Man of Steel 2. It’s a distinct approach from Marvel’s, in that DC seems to be introducing as many core characters as they can, as fast as they can, and only then exploring those characters either as individuals or in small groups. Some see it as a desperate move, and I've yet to pass up an opportunity to make fun of the exponentially growing roster, but in truth, I'm willing to give DC the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it will work, maybe it won’t, but either way, I'm excited to see what happens. Especially if we get a Flash/Lantern movie out of it.

Yale Stewart's JL8, everybody. You're welcome.

 Next Week: Coming Soon to a Theater Near You! 

With Great Power...

Every week during the Summer of Superheroes, SuperMike Matthews breaks down the ins and outs of a current superhero franchise. Spoilers may follow, so read at your own risk.

                                                           

This week: THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN! 

This is it, guys. After five weeks without incident, we’re finally being forced to address the current cinematic era’s hot-buttoniest of issues. I’m talking, of course, about the Reboot.

I want to start off by saying that ‘reboot’ has easily become one of my least favorite words in the entire pop culture lexicon. Not because of its meaning, but because of the connotation that it’s picked up over the years. I don’t know about you, true believers, but outside of the occasional press release, I know I can’t manage to read or hear that word anymore without interpreting it as an epithet of smug derision. That goes double if the speaker describes the reboot as ‘gritty.’

 Example: “I guess it’s only a matter of time before we get that gritty reboot of the Teletubbies, eh?” 

As a general rule, reboots have the odds stacked against them from the moment they’re announced, with only the occasional Star Trek or 21 Jump Street managing to prove the masses wrong*. I do understand why this is – people have love for things they grew up watching, and that includes me. (I’m sure that when the inevitable Indiana Jones reboot is announced, I’ll hop right off my soapbox here and take to the streets.) But it’s a confusing stance to take all the same: say you met someone who has sworn off of hamburgers simply because he once ate a really great hamburger 20 years ago. You’re going to think that that person is crazy, right? But a man who makes that same declaration in regard to cinema becomes a bastion of good taste, standing up heroically against a mindless army of corporate shills. It’s a pretty vicious double standard. The simple fact is, franchise films make money, and most franchises are not capable of continuing indefinitely. That leaves rebooting as the only option. And be honest: is the idea of a Terminator reboot really that much harder to swallow than the idea of Terminator 5? I’d argue that as far as the integrity of the originals is concerned, the latter could do substantially more damage.

 * Interestingly, both of those examples managed to establish a new continuity without disregarding the old one. Perhaps that has something to do with it? 

What annoys me even more is that you hardly ever hear anyone refer to, say, Batman Begins as a reboot, even though it absolutely is one. If you ask me, that has everything to do with the fact that the film was well received. To call a film a ‘reboot’ in this day and age, it first has to be designated as ‘bad,’ like RoboCop, or Marky Mark’s Planet of the Apes, or, yes, The Amazing Spider-Man.

I may be in the minority here – and the box office reports seem to suggest that I am – but I will go on record as saying that from the very beginning, I thought the Amazing Spider-Man franchise had a lot of potential. Spider-Man is a character whose mythos is as diverse as it is beloved, and the approach that Sony was taking with its latest attempt seemed like it could open the door to a very thorough exploration of that mythos. Instead, a few major missteps on the part of the filmmakers, combined with an audience that was either lukewarm or outwardly hostile, created a one-two punch that doomed Sony’s burgeoning Spidey-Verse before it could even scale its first wall. If this week’s discussion comes across as slightly tinged with sadness… well, now you know why.

Too much sadness, Peter.

I want to take just one more moment here to rehash my earlier argument, and push back against the idea that Sam Raimi’s original trilogy somehow renders The Amazing Spider-Man unnecessary. The first two Spider-Men were excellent, that’s true, and the third… probably isn’t as bad as people think? (It’s been a while.) But you’ll notice that no one ever uses such an argument to say that we should stop writing Spider-Man comics. And those have gotten way crazier than the movies ever could. Comic-book Spidey swapped bodies with Doc Ock for over a year, for God’s sake! No, Spider-Man has endured in the public eye because he’s a fantastic character, and regardless of the medium, there’s no reason to write off new stuff on the basis that the old stuff was good.

So, to those who accuse Sony of using the reboot to play us for fools and hope we wouldn’t notice, all I can say is: what else were they going to do? They legitimately tried to go through with Spider-Man 4, but it had pretty much fallen apart by 2010, and Sony needs to make regular use of the character if they want to keep the rights Marvel sold them. They sure as hell weren’t going to sell ol’ Web-Head back again, which means we were getting a reboot whether we wanted it or not. And if the Amazing series fails? Guess what, we’re probably getting another one.

Yeah. Chew on that.

I will certainly concede the point that The Amazing Spider-Man suffers from hitting most of the same beats as the Raimi original in regards to Peter’s origin story. The film’s detractors believed that if we were really going back to square one, the story should have at least played out differently, and while I don’t know what exactly they were expecting (Peter crash-lands on earth as a refugee from a planet of spider-people? A spider murders Peter’s parents?), the criticism is a valid one. Spider-Man has one of the most iconic origins of any superhero, to the point where they probably could have gotten away with skipping it entirely. Nobody here needed to see Uncle Ben die again, even if he was played by Charlie Sheen’s dad this time around.

For God's sake, get over it.

 The biggest change that the new franchise did make was to add all that nonsense with Peter’s father, resulting in the so-called twist that only someone with Peter’s exact genetics could have gained spider-powers from his accident. It’s utterly pointless, overcomplicated, and easily the worst part of either movie. So be careful what you wish for. –Ed. 

The Amazing Spider-Man isn’t a groundbreaking film, but I think it can be considered a mostly harmless one, and is at its best where it chooses to differ from its cinematic predecessor, as in the way it connects all its major plot threads together via Oscorp, the company founded by Spidey-Verse mainstay – and overall Marvel bigwig – Norman Osborn. Despite the sequel’s revelation that the company’s various projects are all completely stupid, Oscorp's monolithic presence gives the franchise a strong backbone to build itself around, lays some subtle groundwork for the Osborns’ later introductions, and streamlines the overall story. It’s a good idea, even if there was probably a better one out there*.

 * Now that I think about it, that sentence is actually a pretty good way to sum up my feelings on this entire franchise. 

ASM's biggest selling point, though, is its new characters: Dr. Curt Connors, Captain George Stacy, and, of course, Gwen Stacy. Yes, I know that all three of those characters appeared in the Raimi trilogy. You’re very smart. Shut up.

Curt Connors, a.k.a. the Lizard, is ASM’s main villain, and in theory, he poses a bit of a problem. While his human persona is full of pathos and inner conflict, using potentially dangerous genetic research in an attempt to regrow his lost arm, the creature that he ends up turning himself into is spurred on primarily by animal instinct. And, as it turns out, a villain who literally has a lizard brain isn’t the most compelling screen presence. He gets a little leeway from me thanks to a thematic connection – his research is obliquely related to the spider that bit Peter – and being such a straightforward villain means he actually fits quite well into an origin film. At this stage, Peter has enough going on just figuring out how to be Spider-Man; I don’t think he should have to worry about stopping a legitimate criminal mastermind in his first few months on the job.

Denis Leary’s Captain Stacy doesn’t really deserve too much discussion, since he’s basically just a poor man’s J. Jonah Jameson, acting as a mouthpiece for the “more harm than good” half of the city-wide debate over our favorite web-slinger. (He’s not half as much fun as J.K. Simmons while doing it, either.) His biggest scene with Peter is an uncomfortably hostile argument on that exact topic, just in case the point wasn’t hammered home enough, and as a final screw you to the character, his one dying wish is quickly disregarded in a way that, strangely, is meant to come across as a happy ending. The sequel at least makes good on the negative consequences of breaking that promise, but for a while there, it makes Peter border on unlikeable.

George’s daughter Gwen Stacy, on the other hand, is probably the strongest part of the new franchise, and her presence is largely responsible for making the films’ stories feel important. As Peter Parker’s first love, Gwen is a crucial part of the Spider-Man legend, and a Spidey-Verse that starts with her is therefore going to have the potential to boast a lot more emotional depth. It also helps that Gwen was played by the fantastic Emma Stone, that she and Andrew Garfield had great chemistry together, and that franchise director Marc Webb got his start doing romantic comedies. The relationship between the two felt genuine and lived-in – most likely because it continued offscreen – and, for me, at least, the effort invested in their storyline paid off, because I found Gwen’s death in the sequel to be genuinely affecting.

Spoiler Alert

You’ll have to forgive me if I was a bit cavalier there, but Gwen Stacy’s ultimate fate is no real surprise to most Spider-Fans; I mentioned it myself only a few weeks ago*, and as far as the Amazing franchise goes, the question was never ‘if,’ but rather ‘when.’ I do wonder if it was carried out a bit prematurely – two films in a row ending with Stacy funerals makes it seem like Gwen and her family only exist to be crammed into refrigerators – but when you’re dealing with what is arguably one of the most iconic deaths in Marvel history, you can’t blame the writers for hedging their bets by making sure that they got the chance to put it on film.

 * In Mike Overthinks Movies #10! 

I actually think they made the right call in that sense, because whatever else you might say about The Amazing Spider-Man 2 – and I’ll have plenty to say about it in a minute, believe me – Gwen Stacy’s death was beautiful. It may sound weird, but it really was. It was beautiful in a way that was impactful even when I could see it coming a mile away. It was beautiful in a way that a snapped neck should never, ever be. I will gladly rewatch this film – and at my earliest opportunity, at that – simply for that moment.

Of course, there’s a very real case to be made that Gwen Stacy’s death should not be beautiful, and that making it beautiful undercuts its meaning in ways that anyone should have been able to realize. Here’s that same moment in the comics:

See the ‘snap?’ No, not the ‘SWIK.’ The ‘snap.’ It’s small. Insignificant. If you’re reading quickly, the balloon placement makes it entirely possible that you’ll miss it altogether. And yet that ‘snap’ marks the abrupt end of one of the most significant relationships that Peter Parker has ever had and ever will have.

It works because of how underplayed it all is. It’s SO unexpected. Even Peter doesn’t realize what’s happened until he’s pulled Gwen all the way back up to the top of the bridge. In a million years, no one would have ever thought that Gwen Stacy would die that way, mostly because no one would have thought that Gwen Stacy would die at all. It’s not Peter’s fault, but it happens in such a way that he still feels responsible, and for that reason the moment has come to be seen as the end of an era; for the first time in a long time, it became possible for superheroes to fail.

Now, Spidey didn’t fail all on his own, of course. Someone had to throw Gwen off that bridge in the first place, and, unsurprisingly, that someone was none other than the Green Goblin.

Meaning this is only the second deadliest scheme that he's ever been part of.

The alter-ego of Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin is Spider-Man’s most high-profile enemy, but that didn’t stop him from apparently dying in the aftermath of Gwen’s death, disappearing for over 20 years. In that timespan, the Goblin mantle was taken up by others, most notably Harry Osborn, Norman’s son and Peter Parker’s best friend. The first ASM, in what felt like foreshadowing at the time, went out of its way to make Norman’s offscreen presence felt, and yet the second film ends up skipping over him almost entirely, having Harry become the first Goblin and incorporating Gwen’s death into the reworked origin story. That’s all fine, being an adaptation, but leapfrogging over half the story means that certain elements feel a bit out of place.

One criticism I don’t agree with is the idea that ASM2 doesn’t make sense. It may stretch credulity at times, especially in little nitpicky moments, but the logistics are all there. For instance, let’s look at Harry’s plotline using the trick we learned from Trey Parker and Matt Stone in MOM #1, shall we?

Ready? … BEGIN!

After inheriting Oscorp from his father, Harry becomes terrified of the rare disease that he just discovered he’s carrying à therefore he looks to Oscorp’s R&D department for a cure. BUT it turns out the only cure is Spider-Man’s blood (because plot device!) à therefore he asks Peter, being a ‘mutual friend’ of both Harry and Spidey, to get it for him. BUT Peter turns him down (because plot device it could be dangerous) à therefore Harry digs deeper into Oscorp’s secrets à therefore he is thrown out as head of the company à therefore he teams up with Electro to break back in. BUT he’s seriously wounded in the attempt à therefore he is forced to make use of the Goblin armor and its healing ability.

GAME OVER

Plot devices aside, it all flows, and works pretty well as a character arc on paper. It even gives Harry a solid motive for targeting Gwen during the climax: he knows he can use her to manipulate Peter (and he also knows that Peter is Spider-Man, because he’s not an idiot). The biggest problem, then, is that it feels extremely rushed, especially since it’s only a subplot. You can see the strain in the fact that the Osborn retrovirus, which took over 60 years to kill Norman, based on Chris Cooper’s age, starts manifesting in Harry just a few months after he learns that he has it. An arc like this would have been perfectly serviceable spread across two movies – and indeed, Sam Raimi got the maximum mileage from the same character by stretching his transformation across an entire trilogy – but it’s so compressed here that crucial elements of the character, like being Peter Parker’s gorram best friend, are lost amidst the chaos. It doesn’t make any sense to me, given that this rebooted universe seemed engineered from the beginning to run much longer than the one that came before. Spider-Man is compelling because so much of what he gets into as a superhero rests atop a web (sorry) of personal relationships, but if you skimp on that foundation just because you want to get to the Sinister Six faster, you’re only going to be doing yourself a disservice.

Am I forgetting something?

Oh, right!

Felicia Hardy. She has a minor role as Harry’s assistant, presumably setting her up to reappear as the Black Cat. I wouldn’t say that kind of character needs setting up, but, whatever. Clearly in this Spidey-Verse, working at Oscorp is a prerequisite for gaining superpowers.

Oscorp worker… gaining superpowers… why does that sound familiar?

Oh yeah. Electro. That guy we all spent a year thinking the movie was actually going to be about. Remember that? Boy, those were the days.

As written, and as performed by Jamie Foxx, ASM2’s Electro is completely different than any other version of the character that I’m aware of, but the writers took him an a really interesting direction. This Max Dillon is someone who’s been pushed around for his entire life, retreating into his loneliness to the point of mental instability. He instantly clings to anyone who’s even remotely nice to him, especially if that someone is a hero like Spider-Man. Because he’s so fragile, his experiences after his electrifying accident drive him completely over the edge, and he decides to use his powers to punish those who he thinks wronged him, whether or not they actually did. Some character choices may come across as disjointed or unmotivated because of the whole ‘mental break’ thing, but I sign off on it. To me, he’s almost a dark parallel to Steve Rogers: the weakling that finally becomes strong.

So, it seems like a lot of this film’s perceived problems come from two very outside-the-box villain stories, but I think they’re both pretty okay. IF you want to have an Electro who is a mentally unstable, obsessive Spider-Man fan with an inferiority complex, and IF you want to have Harry Osborn be the first Green Goblin, well, fine. Those are unorthodox choices, but neither is inherently bad. I’m not sure they belong in the same movie - in fact, they probably don’t, and therein lies the true problem. But IF you want to put them both in the same movie, you might as well do it the way they did it here. That’s what makes ASM2 my favorite kind of movie to think about, but so difficult to write about. It’s like a layer cake of good and bad decisions.

Let me explain what I mean by that.

Basically, the overall concept of the film centers around two villains that have no intuitive reason for interacting, but the story was broken in such a way that justifies it about as well as anyone could hope to do. The script that came from that story outline is hopelessly overwritten, filled with unnecessary twists and turns and lots of questionable decisions. And finally, we have the film itself, shot from that same script, and actually doing a great job with things like performances, characterization*, and little details.

 * I have no shame in admitting that I prefer this version of Spider-Man to Tobey Maguire’s, even if the latter comes from the superior franchise. This Spidey is just so quippy and fun, especially in the opening scenes of the second film. If you ask me, it’s the way Spider-Man ought to be done. 

In short, ASM2 is a largely pointless story, told in an interesting way, starring good actors that are forced to deliver bad dialogue in between more than a few genuinely entertaining scenes. If you can manage to pigeonhole that into the simple categories of ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ be my guest. But I know I can’t.

Anyway, what’s next for the Web-Slinger?

What If?

A few months ago, Sony’s Spidey-Verse had quite a lot on the horizon: a Sinister Six film, a Venom spinoff, and two more ASM films, with release dates reserved as far as four years in the future. After ASM2 underperformed at the box office, though, the future is a lot more uncertain. Roberto Orci, who was supposed to be one of the grand architects of the Spidey-Verse, has stepped away from the project indefinitely, and it’s no longer clear if any of those planned movies will still be happening, let alone all four of them.

I will say that if a Sinister Six movie ever does see the light of day, it will be a tremendously interesting prospect. The Sinister Six, for the uninitiated, is the name for a group of assorted Spider-Man villains, and is basically a villainous version of the Avengers, meant to target Spidey specifically. Also like the Avengers, the lineup is never set in stone, but based on hints left in ASM2’s credits, this version will include (would have included?) Green Goblin, Doc Ock, the Vulture, the Rhino, Kraven the Hunter, and Mysterio. All of those are great villains – Spidey can easily claim the best rogues gallery this side of Batman – but only two would have been established beforehand, which seems like a risky proposition to me. There’s also the question of what exactly a movie starring six villains is supposed to be about. Do they fight Spider-Man? Some bigger villain? Each other? Do they just hang out like an evil episode of Friends? I genuinely don’t know, and like most of Sony’s Spidey-Verse projects, my interest comes mostly from wanting to see what their approach would be.

Hopefully (?) I’ll get the chance to find out. And you’d better hope so too, if you don’t want to have a reboot of a reboot on your hands.

Did I mention that this happened in the movie?
Because this totally happened.
We live in a world where Paul Giamatti jumps at the chance to play the Rhino.
In his underpants.

 Next Week: It’s a bird! It’s a plane!