Review: The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)

From a personal standpoint, Mark Webb's reboot of Sony Corporation's most profitable franchise broke new ground: for the first time, I was unexcited about the prospect of a new Spider-Man movie. Given the high caliber of summer 2012's other superhero offerings - Joss Whedon's superlative Avengers adaptation and Christopher Nolan's swan song The Dark Knight Rises - as well as trailers depicting another re-telling of Spider-Man's origin, I was highly skeptical of this movie being anything other than a naked cash grab. My lack of interest was expressed most vividly when, offered the chance on opening day to see a new Spider-Man film or a film about male strippers, I chose the latter.

Having now seen the movie, I will admit that while my initial cynicism may be justified, The Amazing Spider-Man is better than it had any right to be. Though devoting half the film to ground already covered - and better - in Sam Raimi's original Spider-Man (2002), Webb has nevertheless produced an exciting Spider-Man adventure. If one drops all cynicism to simply sit back and enjoy what transpires on screen, TASM is a perfectly satisfying superhero tale. In the pantheon of long underwear characters adapted to film, it is closer to the upper echelon than the lower. As the Big Three go - Superman, Batman, Spider-Man - TASM is miles above the disappointing Superman Returns while not quite reaching the heights of Nolan's Batman films.

Praise for the movie has justifiably tended to focus on the performances of Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone. Each does an outstanding job with their character. In her role as the token love interest, Stone improves considerably on Kirsten Dunst's Mary Jane Watson, although partial credit must go to the screenwriters, who render her Gwen Stacy a stronger and more independent character than Raimi's indecisive, narcissistic MJ. That said, there is no iconic moment to rival the kiss in the rain from the Raimi original.

Garfield's performance must be rated on a dualistic basis. As Spider-Man, he is far and away a more charismatic and amusing Spidey than Tobey Maguire's interpretation. Garfield's hero makes constant quips - something sorely lacking when Maguire wore the tights, and truer to the presentation of Spider-Man in the comics (where the shy Parker seems to become a different person under the mask, wittier and funnier).

As Peter Parker - specifically, as a high school-age Parker - Garfield comes up short of Maguire, who I could believe as an unpopular and awkward nerd. As has been pointed out by other reviewers, Garfield is simply too good-looking to buy as a social pariah or the hapless victim of bullies. Perhaps this is a reflection on the state of culture ten years after the original, when nerds like Mark Zuckerberg have become globe-straddling trendsetters. This Peter rides a skateboard, and his clothes and bedroom are festooned with "hip" cultural icons - The Clash, The Ramones, Johnny Cash. Garfield's Peter is perfectly likeable and there's nothing wrong with his acting; I simply couldn't buy him as a geek.

But there is a caveat, because this only refers to a single aspect of the character. Tobey Maguire played the "nerdy" Peter to perfection, but unfortunately never evolved beyond this. Throughout all three of Raimi's films, Maguire's Parker remained socially awkward to the point where it became irritating by the third movie. Where was the character development? In the comics, Peter eventually became more confident and cool, which was a nice transition to see. Unlike Maguire, Garfield has this aspect nailed down. While off-putting to me in the depiction of a teenage Parker, I believe this quality will accrue to Garfield's advantage as an older Peter when the inevitable sequel(s) see the light of day.

The choice of The Lizard as villain is a strange one for a movie that occasionally seems to be aping the "gritty, realistic" character of the Nolan Batman films, which leads us to a crucial point: the world of Spider-Man is in no sense "gritty" or "realistic". We're talking about a hero who is bitten by a spider and gains spider-like superpowers, fighting a giant lizard in the streets of Manhattan. It is literally impossible to depict such events in a "realistic" manner. If that's what the filmmakers were going for, they failed. But I don't think they were.

Ultimately, this is a perfectly serviceable popcorn flick. It likely won't be remembered as long as the 2002 film, and certainly won't have the same cultural impact, but plays well while you're watching it. Rhys Ifans does a fine job as Dr. Curt Connors, aka The Lizard. The special effects are far superior to Raimi's original films, helped along by the fact that whenever possible the filmmakers used real stunts for the webslinging rather than CGI.

There are some plot holes. Peter is driven to seek revenge on Uncle Ben's killer, yet the matter is effectively dropped after The Lizard becomes a real threat. The possibility that the plotline will be resolved in a sequel is an annoying side-effect of the blockbuster franchise era. But there is a more pernicious aspect to this plot thread. It may be argued that this movie sidesteps the entire theme of the Spider-Man story - "with great power comes great responsibility". In the comics and the first Raimi film, Spider-Man is directly responsible for causing Uncle Ben's death by failing to apprehend the killer when he had the chance, and channels that guilt and anger into his life as a crimefighter.

In Webb's interpretation, that responsibility is less direct; there is less guilt and more anger. Sure, Uncle Ben gets killed while looking for Peter, who left their home in anger. But by turning Peter's motivation for becoming Spider-Man into a mission primarily of vengeance - only to leave that plotline unresolved - Webb essentially defeats the point of devoting half the movie to re-telling the origin story.

In the end, my praise for this movie likely comes as a result of my expectations being so low. I was pleasantly surprised, but am looking forward to a sequel more now that the origin is out of the way.

Final note: there is absolutely no point in seeing this movie in 3-D. For long periods I forgot I was even wearing the glasses. Go 2-D if you can.

Movie Review: "Kick-Ass"

Rarely have I seen a movie title that so aptly summarized the film's quality: lest anyone tell you differently, Kick-Ass does kick ass.


Now that we've gotten the obvious joke out of the way, we're free to look at the film itself, which is the most pleasant surprise I've had at the Cineplex since last summer's Up. Full disclosure: if you haven't guessed by now, I am a major comics/film geek who revels in the anticipation of each new funnybook adapted for the screen. Batman, Spider-Man, Superman, Iron Man, the Hulk - I've closely followed these movies at every stage of production, eager to see how my favourite superheroes make the transition to live-action. With upcoming Green Lantern, Thor and Captain America films in the works, there's never been a better time to be a comics fan.

Despite the cinematic success of Marvel and DC's characters, there still remains the the danger of overkill. In a universe full of colourfully-costumed avengers, it's all too easy for the superhero genre to lapse into its component clichés - the origin story, the love interest, the supervillain, etc. Superhero films, like the comic books they were inspired by, have to constantly reinvent themselves to retain viewers' attention. We've seen recent examples: Iron Man utilized the comic talents of Robert Downey Jr. to create a genre hybrid that was somehow more lighthearted and more mature than any serious superhero film previously made; The Dark Knight, of course, took the genre to darker places than we'd previously seen, anchored by political undertones that made Heath Ledger's demented Joker into an analogy for terrorism and Batman's increasingly brutal methods of law enforcement - wiretapping, severe beatings, borderline torture - into a reflection of the post-9/11, post-PATRIOT Act American police state.

Into that postmodern zone of superhero stories now comes a more original tale. Kick-Ass is comparable in some ways to Watchmen in that it investigates the real-world ramifications of what it might be like to be a superhero. Alan Moore's opus argued that vigilantes like Rorschach and the Comedian were, on some level, borderline psychopaths. Yet the film version of Watchmen, despite some excellent performances (chiefly by Jackie Earle Haley as Rorschach), was ultimately hindered by its overly close adherence to the source material. Perhaps a two and a half-hour film is incapable of accessing the same intellectual depth as the graphic novel, although it certainly wasn't for lack of trying.

Happily, Matthew Vaughan's version of Kick-Ass, though based on a graphic novel by Mark Millar, makes for a much more entertaining experience as a film. The plot concerns average high school nerd type Dave Lizewski (Aaron Johnson), who decides to become the superhero Kick-Ass. Initially getting his Ass-Kicked, the character becomes a YouTube phenomenon after footage of him taking on three hoodlums circulates on the internet, which leads to a proliferation of new costumed vigilantes.

The most notable of these are Big Daddy and Hit-Girl, played respectively by arch-comic geek Nicolas Cage (who named his infant son Kal-El after Superman's Kryptonian name) and 11-year-old newcomer Chloe Grace Moretz. Hit-Girl has been the subject of some controversy; Roger Ebert gave the movie a withering one-star review based partly on the character, a little girl who is an expert in weapons, tactics, and killing bad guys. It's hard to argue with his moral objections:

Shall I have feelings, or should I pretend to be cool? Will I seem hopelessly square if I find “Kick-Ass” morally reprehensible and will I appear to have missed the point? Let's say you're a big fan of the original comic book, and you think the movie does it justice. You know what? You inhabit a world I am so very not interested in. A movie camera makes a record of whatever is placed in front of it, and in this case, it shows deadly carnage dished out by an 11-year-old girl, after which an adult man brutally hammers her to within an inch of her life. Blood everywhere. Now tell me all about the context.

Ultimately, I have to defend the creative choice of the filmmakers by pointing to Hit-Girl as an example of how Kick-Ass defies genre expectations. The typical template for a superhero is a strong, muscular man - even when the character's alter ego is a bespectacled nerd, like Clark Kent or Peter Parker, he's still ripped. Depicting an 11-year-old girl as a violent vigilante plays with the audience's idea of what a hero should be, what that hero is up against, but also, perhaps, serves as a warning about the violent cultural ideals which, intentionally or not, we pass on to the next generation. So in that sense, Ebert was right in worrying about the messages this movie sends to young kids. But hey, it's rated R, so they shouldn't be watching it anyway.

Personally, I found Hit-Girl highly entertaining in the disconnect between her vulgarity and violence, and the character's precocious age. I saw it as satire, and while I understand Ebert's objections, I do not share them. Kids in movies are usually pretty annoying, but Moretz is a delight; she's like an 11-year-old female Charles Bronson with more acrobatics.

Kudos also has to go to Nicolas Cage as Big Daddy. This is the perfect role for Cage, who did not exactly set the screen on fire as Johnny Blaze in the more straightforward superhero adaptation Ghost Rider. The way he channels Adam West's Batman is much like the movie itself; simultaneously a parody of the superhero genre and a dark, edgy addition to the canon. While he acts like West's campy Batman, his actions are far closer to the psychopathic vigilante of Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns. Christopher Mintz-Plasse, as Red Mist, takes his McLovin persona from Superbad and applies it to a character with more sinister motivations, a perfect supervillain if this thing gets a sequel (which it might, if boffo box office grosses are any indication). Perhaps most impressive was Mark Strong as drug kingpin Frank D'Amico. I'm aware of several villainous turns this British thespian has done before, but the way he melted into this role was impressive and bodes well for his upcoming turn as Sinestro to Ryan Reynolds' Green Lantern.

As Kick-Ass, Aaron Johnson is a likable protagonist that viewers can root for, since he essentially represents this movie's target audience - young males steeped in the fanboy culture of comics, sci-fi, superheroes, internet porn, and social anxiety. It all goes a long way towards establishing the character's everyman bona fides; the heroic image of his alter ego is a fair throw from the sheer luck which generally allows him to survive his violent encounters. Kick-Ass affects us because it reflects would really happen if any of us tried to become superheroes - we would end up severely injured. But with a little luck, a few cell-phone cameras and the power of the internet, a legend grows around Kick-Ass in which he appears to truly become the heroic figure he imagines himself as.

I loved this movie because it dealt with subject matter that is near and dear to my heart while applying it to a more-or-less real world environment. I will acknowledge that it lost much of its realism as time went on, primarily in the form of Hit-Girl - there's no way an 11-year-old girl could kill that many armed men and survive, no matter how well she was trained - but these are quibbles. What we have here is a relatively original superhero movie that simultaneously parodies, deconstructs and embraces the genre's conventions. The viewer is never totally sure how things are going to turn out, and it's that element of unpredictability that puts this movie over the top. Kick-Ass, indeed.