Four of us went to the theater: My brother, my two kids, and me. Three of us thought it was a pretty gosh-dang good flick.
Not revolutionary or must-see, alas. A masterpiece, it wasn’t. But there were a few laughs, a few thrills, a few cheers, and it was good while it lasted. (We’ve all had relationships like this, amiright? Shh.) Which is why three out of four of us had a pretty gosh-dang good time.
The fourth one ranted like a lunatic.
He hated the movie. Called it derivative and lazy. Couldn’t believe we actually liked that soul-sucking, puke-inducing, manure pile of cheap, repetitive, brain-dead garbage. Went on and on, which kinda killed our buzz. (Don’t do that to your friends, peeps. It’s not nice.)
The story doesn’t really do anything to advance the overall Marvel Cinematic Universe plotline, aside from introducing new characters. The end-credit scene does hint at the opening of Avengers: Doomsday, Marvel’s next big blockbuster extravaganza, which will be hitting theaters near you in December. But other than that, it’s a (fairly) tidy, self-contained, friendly neighborhood Spiderman story.
(No spoilers in this review, by the way — I’m not a supervillain.)
Most of the crossovers were already highlighted via the marketing campaign. They probably would’ve landed harder with the element of surprise, but it’s still a pleasure to catch up with old friends. For those of us of a certain generation, Marvel movies are comfort food: We know what we’re gonna get, and that’s the point.
Tom Holland’s greatest strength as an actor is his connectivity: He has chemistry with absolutely everyone. (He could have chemistry with a broomstick if he had to.) All the friendships feel genuine; every relationship feels real. (Sometimes for good reason.) It’s also why Holland is Hollywood’s most profitable Spiderman yet. What sets Spidey apart is his likeability, and Holland has it in spades.
(And spandex.)
The action scenes are filled with glorious eye-candy. The motivations make sense within the Marvel Universe. What worked less was the emotional buy-in: The movie wanted to be about identity, but it was really about emotions. And, for whatever reason, the style and directing kept the audience at arm’s length.
Just didn’t feel it.
Sometimes I did. In fact, some of the individual moments were excellent. But there’s enough emotional dissonance to prevent it from being an A+, don’t-you-dare-miss movie, relegating it to the “not a horrible way of spending your evening, but if you’ve got something better to do, skip it and wait for streaming” category.
The film’s cleaning up at the box office, though. For all the talk of “superhero fatigue,” audiences came out in droves. Why? Part of the reason is that Spidey remains a uniquely valuable I.P. with an exemplary track record across the cinematic Spiderverse; the other is anticipation over Robert Downey Jr.’s doomtastic return.
But with great power comes great responsibility.
If this Spidey flick had failed, it would’ve killed momentum for Avengers: Doomsday. Judging by crowd reaction (and our own 75% approval rate), it seems like it did just enough to satiate audiences, so when Spider-Man hits streaming 120 days from now, that’ll give it a few weeks of promotional juice to jazz up audiences for Doomsday.
Disney couldn’t have planned for it better. Perfect appetizer before the main course.
That’s an important lesson: Sony and Disney are business partners on Spider-Man films and MCU characters.
By definition, a partner is someone who helps you. Adversarial partnerships are… doomed. (Cue evil laugh.) Clearly, Disney and Sony were collaborating closely, and the results were win-win: Sony has a monster hit, and Disney’s audience is primed for Doomsday,
If Spider-Man and Avengers films were released too closely together, they’d risk cannibalizing each other. That’s a big no-no. When co-owned I.P.s intermingle, you must be extra careful, because devaluing one could devalue all the rest.
And when billion-dollar corporations like Sony and Disney get involved, it gets even more complicated. At times, these relationships can get borderline incestuous.
Speaking of which…
PRediction: Expect to see a lot of jokes, memes, and snarky posts about cousin-marriage, courtesy of our NEW Democratic nominee for Maine’s Senate seat, Troy Jackson. Seems Mr. Jackson had a pair of kids with his second cousin.
(Which, if you’re not paying close attention, kinda makes it sound like he had sex with TWO cousins. Eww!)
Republicans will make it a campaign issue, because, frankly, it’d be political malpractice not to. (Even Republicans aren’t that stupid.) But it won’t be the kind of thing that’s pushed from the top.
Instead, lampooning the cousin-canoodling candidate will be spearheaded on social media by (mostly) anonymous accounts. It’ll be one snarky comment after another!
I mean, c’mon. The comedy writes itself.
Yup, cousin-marriage is causing political headaches once again. Which means…
PRojection: Once again, The Simpsons predicted it.
Someone in Maine oughta make a “Shelbyville for Jackson PAC” parody. Or maybe “Kissing Cousins for Jackson.” (Campaign slogan: Make Maine West Virginia Again!)Upload commercials featuring families of triple-headed, Sloth-looking children cheering Jackson on: “Susan Collins is for they/them. Troy Jackson is for sister-aunt.”
I keep telling you folks, embrace the power of ridicule. ‘Cause it works. It really, truly works.
Sal Alinsky wasn’t lying: “Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon. It is almost impossible to counterattack ridicule. Also it infuriates the opposition, who then react to your advantage.”
And in a remarkable quirk of fate, there’s actually a city called Springfield in Maine. So, if someone from Springfield, Maine, became the public face of this Shelbyville campaign, it’d be… >chef’s kiss<
PRaise: To medical accuracy.
So, to be fair to ANY happily married cousins reading the column, a quick Google search (which I’ll now have to delete from my search history) acknowledges that the overall risk of birth defects between married cousins is still very low, although elevated. First cousin marriage is banned in 32 U.S. states — but second cousin marriage is allowed in all 50. Legally speaking, Jackson did nothing wrong.
Historically, cousin-marriage has happened a lot. (Habsburg jaw, anyone?) Some smart people did it, too: Albert Einstein married his second cousin.
But today, cousin marriage is a clear and obvious social taboo. It’s less a medical concern than an ick factor.
And it’s gross, weird, shocking, and perverse enough to be the backbone of a splendidly subversive PR campaign (hint, hint).
PRedator: While we’re on this topic, there’s an expression I’ve heard that’s NEVER made any sense to me. Whenever you’re playing a game and there’s a tie, some knucklehead will go, “Well, y’know what they say, ‘A tie is like kissing your sister.’ Ha ha ha.”
Wait. What?!
I’m so confused:
- Who was the creep who first experienced a tie — and then chose kissing his sister as his go-to mode of comparison? (No offense, but what kind of social life did that guy have?)
- What town was he in where enough people overheard him, thought “Yeah, that’s a real clever way to describe a tie, I know exactly what he means,” and then kept repeating it ‘til the expression caught on?
I’m guessing the town was either Shelbyville, Ind., Shelbyville Ky., Shelbyville, Tenn., Shelbyville, Texas, Shelbyville, Miss., or Shelbyville, Ill. (Real cities, one and all.)
Sadly, there’s no Shelbyville, Maine.
Yet.
