A Sort of Defense of The Amazing Spiderman

This will not be as spirited a defense as my Man of Steel thing.  Part of it is it does have some genuine flaws that bog the film down at times.  Also, there's the whole reboot fatigue thing, what with this new version coming out a scarce 5 years after Spiderman 3; not to mention that the whole concept of "gritty" franchise reboots (fresh and novel when Batman Begins and Casino Royale first premiered in the mid-'00s) had already worn thin by 2012, and are mainly now just another sign of the utter creative bankruptcy of contemporary Hollywood.

Yet though I, too, was already sick and tired of reboots by 2012, I still gave a pass to The Amazing Spiderman, because, quite frankly, the Sam Raimi/Toby Maguire Spidermans sucked.

There, I said it.

I still remember letting my then-girlfriend drag me to see Spiderman 3 in theaters clear back in 2007,  and I likewise remember swiftly regretting it, for it featured all the same lame dialogue, schmaltzy lines, overly-CGI'd effects, campy over-acting, that infuriating, nonsensical "will-they-won't-they" romance, ridiculous plot, and cringe-inducing moralizing, as the previous 2 installments.

In fact, all that surprised me this time was that my then-girlfriend also hated it--and for the exact same reasons!  In fact, everywhere I looked, folks had turned on the Spiderman franchise, naming numero tres the one that finally jumped the shark, to which all I could reply was: Really?  This is the one you hate?  But everything that's wrong with 3 is what's also wrong with the other 2!  Weren't all these flaws obvious before?

In a perverse sort of way, I was kinda grateful for Spiderman 3: for it foregrounded everything wrong with the franchise, things I'd long felt alone in noticing amongst all the fawning critical and popular praise.

What's more, as fine as an actor as Toby Maguire may otherwise be, he is simply not a super-hero:  He has neither the physique, nor the presence, nor the energy to pull off a believable action star.  I saw him with his mask off, and then I saw the computer graphics acrobating across the screen, and I could never reconcile the two.  It was more than my willing suspension of disbelief could bare.

Which is why I appreciated Andrew Garfield's take on Peter Parker--he played him like an actual teenager, one who was already twitchy, anxious, and hyper self-conscious--such that when the super-powers first started acting up, it wasn't a stretch to see him start climbing the walls, because he practically was already.  His witty one-liners also felt a lot more organic and natural in the context of them coming from an actual smart-alack teenager.  My willing suspension of disbelief had a much easier time about it.

Martin Sheen also brought a lot more grounded and believable gravitas to Uncle Ben, less a stock-figure than a real human being, than whoever-played-the-last-guy did (see what I mean?). 

Likewise, contrasted against the self-seriousness of the not-even-that-hot Kirsten Dunst, his relationship with (noticeably hotter) Gwen Stacy also felt a lot less forced, and their whole "will-they-won't-they" schtick was mercifully dropped, and if their chemistry was still sometimes awkward, well, once again, it was awkward the way actual teen romances are.

There was also no blatant 9/11 pandering in this one either, which I appreciated.  And maybe Dunst and 9/11 are related here: for they both plaster the film with an unearned sense of faux-seriousness, making it ironically more joyless than all those "gritty reboots."

In fact, let's discuss "gritty reboots": for though they were already old hat by 2012, that "gritty" feel still makes a lot more sense for Spiderman than the splashy sentimentality of the Maguire versions--for Spiderman is an urban superhero, and, surprise surprise, urban New York is kinda gritty!  Like, in real life!  Paradoxically in fact, by letting Spiderman exist in a "gritty," "realistic" environment, that freed him up to actually be less self-serious and more good-humored, you know, like the actual comic book character.

Look, I get it if one has fond memories of the 2001 version (it will be neither the first nor last terrible film that gets a free ride based on sheer nostalgia, trust me), and yes, 5 years hardly qualifies as enough time to necessitate a "reboot" already.  But look at it this way: The Amazing Spiderman is the film that should have been 10-odd years ago.  If Amazing demonstrates anything, it's that it's never too soon to correct your mistakes.

Also, you really can judge a film by its soundtrack: The Amazing Spiderman?  James Horner.  Spiderman?  Nickelback.  Nuff said.