Captain Marvel (2019) – Movie Review

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There’s been a lot of excitement surrounding the release of this movie with one side wanting it to do well to support their camp, and the other side wanting it to fail to support theirs.

I don’t care about that either way (but I will take this opportunity to be a little provocative and use an OG Captain Marvel image on this post instead of the current movie poster). I just want to be entertained by a good superhero movie which continues the story that Marvel has been telling for the last 10 years. Unfortunately, this isn’t one of the better ones. I found it to be very mediocre and forgettable. And that’s really as charitable as I can be with this movie.

Brie Larson certainly looks the part, but based upon her performance it seems like she was miscast in the role. Her time on screen is spent vacillating between looking indifferent and an unidentifiable expression, which many have attributed to smugness, for most of the movie. Personally I found it to be a bit off-putting and not only was the Carol Danvers character unlikable as a result, it also kept pushing me out of the movie by making it hard to suspend my disbelief.

Unfortunately, it goes downhill from here.

The underlying subtext of the movie is female empowerment, which is fine. Comic books are allegories, and always have been, at least when it comes to Marvel Comics. It’s one of the (many) things I love about comics, but there’s a fine line when creating these kinds of stories. They still have to be relatable and engaging, and ultimately entertaining, which is something that the comic book industry does quite well (for the most part). If you lean a little too far towards the underlying subtext then it looks a little ham-fisted and people perceive it as propaganda. And that’s what happens here; it’s so busy trying to be a feminist film that it forgets to be a superhero movie.

It’s clear that Marvel (and ultimately Disney) is trying to capitalise on the current zeitgeist, which is a bit of a departure for them. Past efforts have been focused more on telling entertaining stories which remained reasonably faithful to the source material. This movie doesn’t do that and as such has a different look and feel than its predecessors. So much so that it doesn’t really feel like a Marvel movie at all.

An unfortunate side effect of this are the changes made to existing characters, both from the source material and the MCU itself. In this movie Nick Fury doesn’t resemble the character we’ve seen over the course of his appearances in 11 of the MCU movies. His character is not bad within the context of the narrative they’re trying to support, but his actions are not congruent with what we’ve seen and know about that character. On the back of that, having him lose his eye to a cat is a disservice to the character and shows that the filmmakers don’t really have any respect for the source material or, I would argue, the fans.

It’s the casual fan base which underwrites the financial viability of these movies, not the fringe elements. When you dogmatically service these elements specifically, on one side or the other, you risk marginalizing the culture we love by forcing out this casual fan base.

Personally, I enjoyed Alita: Battle Angel much more as a female empowerment movie. These two films essentially have the same plot, but the execution of the story, of the allegory, is done more competently in Alita with characters that are more fully formed, coupled with superior performances from the actors. It’s a superior movie in every way and I recommend seeing this one instead and giving Captain Marvel a miss.

 

1 out of 5 stars

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Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) – Movie Review

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The worlds of superhero movies and superhero comics are not as similar as they seem on the surface. Currently, film studios are all about the “extended universe”, seeing how many different titles and characters they can shove into one franchise (Avengers, X-Men, Justice League), making for an easy way to squeeze a few extra bucks out of their lesser known properties. Comics have this as well, of course. However, they also have something modern movies haven’t really tapped into yet: story one-offs, a chance for a storyteller to create a unique tale and not be constrained by the implications on or from the larger universe. Spider-Verse gets to do just that, while playfully taking on the fun (if convoluted) absurdity of extended superhero universes. Listen, I hear you. “How could we possibly need another Spider-Man movie?” Spider-Verse understands that question and has a take on it. Yes, Peter Parker is here. In fact, there are two Peter Parkers. There’s also a Spider-Woman, a Noir Spider-Man, an anime Spider-Girl/Robot, and a Spider-Pig. At the center though is Miles Morales, an Afro-Hispanic Brooklyn teen who must help these other Spider-People get back to their own planes of existence. He fights with his cop dad, he adores his shady uncle, hates being simply the smartest kid in the room, and just wants to do something that matters. Being Spider-Man wasn’t his idea, but hey, when a radioactive spider gives you powers, what choice do you have? Look, I don’t have any sort of hot take on this movie. It looks great, the humor pops with surprises, the voice casting is beyond perfect. It’s simply a stylishly exciting and refreshingly unique take on the superhero genre, and sometimes that’s more than enough.

 

4 out of 5 stars

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Deadpool 2 (2018) – Movie Review

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We couldn’t help but ask “why?” when the sequel was announced, even though we knew the answer was money. There was little hope in improving on the first DEADPOOL (2016), and since that film’s director, Tim Miller, was tied up with upcoming projects for X-Men and Terminator, there was understandable concern that changing the recipe could result in huge disappointment. While it may not be an improvement on the first, only those with unrealistic expectations are likely to be disappointed … the rest of us will spend most of two hours laughing and enjoying the spectacle.

Director David Leitch exploded onto the scene with last year’s surprise action hit ATOMIC BLONDE, and his stuntman experience is once again on display with even more frenzied action and fight sequences this time out. As you might expect, there is no easing into the comedy routine here. The Opening Credits are laugh out loud funny and the only thing better may be the closing credits sequence, which is an instant classic.

No punchlines will be spoiled here, and it’s an obvious statement, but clearly no topic or subject, or at least very few, are off-limits. Targets of barbs include LinkedIn, YENTL, FROZEN, Fox & Friends, and well, the list goes on and on. You’ll likely miss 20 percent of the dialogue whilst laughing. The “Merc with a Mouth” breaks the 4th wall in atypical fashion – blurring the line through dialogue incorporated into the story. The self-awareness is comical in its own right.

Some familiar faces are back. Wade’s main squeeze Vanessa (Marina Baccarin) kicks off the “kids” discussion (Yikes!) and the couple seems to have settled into cohabitant bliss – never a good sign in a superhero movie. TJ Miller (despite his recent headlines) is back running Sister Margaret’s Bar, though his minimal presence is noted. Also back is Colossus (voiced by Stefan Kapicic), and his expanded role finds him turning Deadpool into an X-Men trainee at Professor Xavier’s School for the gifted. This occurs after tragedy strikes and we are introduced to some new players. Julian Dennison (so good in HUNT FOR THE WILDERBEAST) plays FireFist, and of course, the arrival of Cable (Josh Brolin) shows us what happens when a time-travelling Terminator type is out for revenge.

Snarking, mocking and irreverence remain in full force throughout, but if you happen to pay attention to the story, you’ll notice a (not-so) subtle transition taking place. The renegade superhero shifts from loner to team player, and even picks up some life lessons along the way – mostly related to loss and collaboration. Deadpool even forms his own team called X-Force, and one of the more interesting members is Domino (Zazie Beetz), whose superpower is luck (yep). We do get a surprise cameo, and there’s even a shot of Deadpool with no pants … and it’s markedly unsexy. The music selections are inspired, however, if you are unsure whether this movie is for you … it probably isn’t.

 

4 out of 5 stars

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X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) – Movie Review

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In 2000, Bryan Singer shook Hollywood with X-Men: a blockbuster that dared to take comic book superheroes seriously and intelligently. Now, in 2016, he bequeaths us X- Men: Apocalypse – the most dire sabotage to the genre’s longevity and credibility we’ve seen since…well, X-Men Origins: Wolverine (and, amazingly, just as excruciating). My theory? Singer has consciously treated his fourth X-Men as a piece of holistic, self-reflexive, self-loathing performance art. You wanted an Apocalypse? You got one, all right.

You’d expect the film’s critical lambasting proceeding the airtight Days of Future Past to be hyperbole. But no – X-Men: Apocalypse really is THAT intolerable. Many have pointed to the film’s Return of the Jedi “the third one is always the worst” quip turned horribly ironic prophecy for the First Class trilogy. But what if this wasn’t just a smarmy, overconfident boast backfiring hilariously? What if the film is literally cheerfully prophesying its own awfulness?

Screenwriter Simon Kinberg (whose ongoing employment after penning both X-Men 3 AND 2015’s Fantastic Four speaks to a deep, virulent masochism on Fox’s part) meticulously collects Every. Single. One. of the superhero genre’s most loathed tropes, and rubs them in audience faces to such a nauseating extreme I felt a rash breaking out over my corneas. Oodles of stilted, snoozy exposition, and uber-serious self-important melodramatic posturing? Check. Risible, shoehorned-in love scenes? Yup (“I’m on a beach” is in danger of becoming the new “Martha” or “Brutasha” of boneheaded superhero movie maneuvers). A plot that careens from subplot to subplot like a drunken mosquito, each only in service in the interests of (sigh) universe building, yet still unreasonably stagnant and draggy? Oh yes. A climactic blow-out so bloated with incompetent, aimless CGI it nearly outdoes Hulk’s murky mess of a lake battle that then devolves into a literal, beat-by-beat remake of Fant4stic’s mortifying, rushed final boss battle? Oh COME ON. This is beyond surgical, histrionically poor filmmaking. This is Fox watching the world burn.

You can practically taste Singer’s desperation to ape as many iconic X-tropes as possible for fear that he won’t get another chance, including clumsily reintroducing his original roster, but it only makes the film more contemptuous. At one point the plot gets – literally – hijacked just to devote the film’s middle third to an extraneous William Stryker/Weapon X Hugh Jackman cameo. And yes, in spite of the material’s almost unquenchable coolness, it’s a dud too. Singer can’t even be bothered to keep up the campy, pop-art political subtext of the last two X-outings, despite the almost irresistibly spoofable Reagan administration. But, lest you find his film insufficiently profound, he has a peeved Magneto…um…destroy Auschwitz. Um. Wow. I’ll just let the seismic tastelessness of that sink in, and scuttle on.

Surely, you plead, there’s solace to be found in our beloved cast of lovable mutants? Not so. Most of the movie alternates between the cast of actor-props practicing their constipation stares as they feign telekinetically moving/dissolving things. By the final third, the main attraction is Jennifer “Speechsnoring” Lawrence, Rose Bryne, and Sophie Turner attempting to aggressively under-act one another (Turner wins; we have an actual contender for ‘worst blockbuster performance ever documented’. Just remembering her gives me a headache). Tye Sheridan’s Cyclops matches them in petulant overacting, and is just as hatable for it.

It almost defies belief seeing the X-Men’s single most formidable foe squandered to such an outstanding degree. Poor, poor Oscar Isaac. It’s offensive enough leaving Apocalypse bereft of any context or explanation for his powers, resurrection technology, or world-destroying motivation, but he’s so swaddled in mountains of torpid Power Rangers prosthetics, and given nothing to do but whisper and stand with his arms outstretched, we nearly forget about him while he’s still on screen in front of us. As he innocuously and politely assembles Alexandra Shipp, Ben Hardy, and Olivia Munn’s human action figures to stagnate around a desert with him (for HOURS.), CGI farts swirl around his visibly slight frame signifying his (unseen) menace. Shameful is far too feeble a word for this travesty.

The rest of the cast phone it in with furious nonchalance. Michael Fassbender in particular, doesn’t bother hiding his contempt at how often he stands around vacuously, stuck with a pathos subplot so strained he – literally – bellows at God. James McAvoy is on inappropriately but hysterically fine comedic form for the first third of the film before being reigned in as a googly-eyed morality platitude slot machine. We get glimmers of charisma from Evan Peters’ delightfully snarky Quicksilver (and yes, he gets another slow-mo scene. Satisfied?) and Kodi Smit-McPhee’s bashfully goofy Nightcrawler (even if 13 years of FX improvements make him and his ‘bamfing’ look even less credible than Alan Cumming in 2003). Naturally, Kinberg is clueless on how to use either to anywhere close to their full potential, sidelining both and saddling Quicksilver with a motivation so cumbersome you can feel Peters rolling his eyes as the words tumble sheepishly out of his mouth. Recognizable side characters like Tómas Lemarquis’ sassy Caliban intrigue, but are virtual nonentities.

Still doubt Singer’s willful self-destruction? Dig this: the earlier X-Men movies fiercely advocated for education and tolerance, employing violence only to stave off hate- crimes. Apocalypse ends with Lawrence’s MystiKatniss droning on the virtues of militarism Above All Else. Here is the death of Xavier’s dream – so dismal that the only worthwhile embers are lazy callbacks to moments done better in other Bryan Singer X-Men films (McAvoy and Fassbender virtually shed tears of embarrassment reenacting dialogue exchanges from X-Men 1). If this is the rejigged time-stream after Days of Future Past, they may as well ship Wolverine even further back in time to put the whole sodden franchise out of its misery.

 

3 out of 5 stars

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Black Panther (2018) – Movie Review

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There are some films where you can practically hear the history books writing themselves – though if all history books were as outrageously fun as Black Panther, university campuses would be bursting at the seams. Accompanying 2017’s Wonder Woman as a triumphant one-two punch of unprecedented blockbuster representation finding record-breaking box office and critical success, Black Panther’s real shock is that… yes, it is exactly as good as you’d hope. A robust, whip-smart, emotional, and superbly entertaining thriller as unafraid to dive headlong into contentiously topical politics as unabashedly indulge in superhero silliness. Some things are worth the wait.

And yet, after a dizzyingly gorgeous animated prologue, establishing the MacGuffin mythology of fictional African technology haven Wakanda, we wait even longer, as director Ryan Coogler deviates into a seemingly tangential Prologue 2.0 set in the slums of Oakland, California. It’s a disorienting start (but don’t worry; it’s only moments more before T’Challa spin-kicks someone), but its coy foreshadowing heralds an important lesson: Coogler is an immaculately precise director unaccustomed to wasting a frame of film. No one could accuse Black Panther of being unambitious, with a plot encompassing human trafficking, international arms deals, salient commentaries on tradition vs. modernity, redefining power amidst a global economy, and roughly as many political maneuvers as an entire season of House of Cards (including brazen, poignantly tongue-in-cheek barbs about immigration and colonial history) – as well as, y’know, fight scenes, cool gadgets, and all that other superhero stuff. The seamlessness with which Coogler weaves together each seemingly disparate plot thread and theme is almost mind-boggling – and yet, his film is as much a cohesive entity as it is more than the sum of its parts.

Appropriately, for a superhero film whose production was inevitably delayed for decades due to its affiliation with a revolutionary political party, social politics comprise the core and foundation of Black Panther. Here, Coogler pulls no punches, but is never pedantic. We start out in fun but familiar territory, with a first act globetrotting takedown of Wakanda’s arch-nemesis Ulysses Klaue (a gleefully scenery-masticating Andy Serkis, arguably Marvel’s most downright fun adversary to date), reminiscent of a contemporary 007 romp (complete with T’Challa’s own ‘Q,’ in Letitia Wright’s hysterical, impossibly delightful Shuri). But, right when we begin to settle in and munch our popcorn, Coogler yanks the rug out from us, with a second act tonal shift that flips the film on its head, to the point where more than a few audience members will be left questioning the ethics and legitimacy of the hero we’ve spent the entire first half admiring as infallible. Enter Michael B. Jordan, who not only energizes the film with a furious surge of passion as he shifts from his early performative swagger to magnetic, fiery dogmatism, but shifts the conflict to a ‘Malcolm X vs. MLK’ critique of Wakanda’s isolationist inertia in the face of contemporary racism and post-colonialism. It’s a shockingly bold move for the normally sociopolitically safe Marvel, but it pays off, making the brewing climax not only breathtakingly tense, but an impressively nuanced conversation on ethics, empathy, and the real impact of a contemporary revolution. You won’t find that in Ant-Man.

Nonetheless, Coogler has his priorities straight, and Black Panther balances its political core with a raucously fun comic book ride. Aesthetically, it’s a triumph – the FX, art, and costume design are flooring in their imaginative intricacy, incorporating Tony Stark calibre technology into traditional African designs and costuming (force field cloaks?! cool!), lending itself to a pragmatic sci-fi futurism unlike quite anything we’ve ever seen in the movies before, while the pastel hues of the ‘spirit world’ are jaw-dropping in their beauty. The fight scenes are thrillingly fun, balletic as they are brutal (and while T’Challa’s new suit, and its explosive release of kinetic energy, adds a fun new level to the customary punching, kicking, and clawing, it’s in the hands, spear, and wig of Danai Gurira’s scene-stealing, steely general Okoye, that the film is at its most fun and thrilling), and Ludwig Gorasson’s musical score, layering traditional African chanting and instrumentation into brassy superhero swells, is addictively sumptuous. There are occasional fumbles – Coogler’s pace occasionally lags and sputters, with a more meditative second act verging on the lugubrious (and a couple of “Remember who you aaaaaaaaare” heart-to-hearts with John Kani’s deceased patriarch that can’t help but have their gravitas undercut by snickering comparisons to The Lion King). Still, Coogler sinks it home with furious aplomb, steering (just) clear of conventional Marvel third act ennui with a ‘kitchen sink’ climax so furiously tense and bonkers (two words: WEAPONIZED. RHINOS.) that all cinema armrests will be marked with the claw marks of being gripped by a captivated audience.

As the titular monarch, Chadwick Boseman delivers a remarkably grounded performance. Steering the film with a regal calm undercut with muscular emotion and crucially accessible doubt, the film revolves around his steady, magnetic presence, as the showier, scene-stealing bits are commanded by the trio of powerful women supporting him (the perfection of Wright, Gurira, and the luminous, passionately charismatic Lupita Nyong’o). Martin Freeman’s befuddled fed provides ‘fish out of water’ access to Wakanda with customary dry wit; he’s fun without overstaying. Finally, Daniel Kaluuya, Forest Whitaker, and Angela Bassett all elevate one-dimensional secondary characters with gravitas and class, while Winston Duke’s M’Baku is so ferociously terrifying mitigated by some of the most precise comedic timing seen in years, he damn near strolls off with the film himself.

A staggering accomplishment as fun as it is masterfully thoughtful, Black Panther may not quite settle into The Dark Knight territory of genre-transcending masterpiece, but it pounces proudly at its footsteps, this decade’s ‘thinking audience’s blockbuster with a conscience’ to beat. Soak in the well-deserved fun, and let the BET’s 2010 cartoon theme triumphantly play me out: “Black Pan-ther! Black Pan-ther!”

 

4 out of 5 stars

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Deadpool (2016) – Movie Review

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Wanna know what reading a Deadpool comic is like? It’s like waking up pants-less, ferociously hung over, and covered in a variety of cuts, bruises, and condiments, but then getting to eat a big stack of pancakes off the back of the hooker still sleeping next to you. Or, it infects your brain enough that those are the sort of similes you’re liable to cough up. And yet, for the reigning king of contemporary nerd humour, who plays like a cross between Kick-Ass and a Canadian Guardians of the Galaxy (smaller- scale and more belligerent), it’s been surprisingly agonizing bringing everyone’s favourite chimichanga-chomping Merc with the Mouth to the big screen in his own film. Thankfully, Fox’s common sense was tingling. So, fans: think long and hard (snicker) about the uncompromising, mostly amoral, full-on bonkers Deadpool movie you’d lacerate any limb for. Your wishes have finally been granted.

Debut director Tim Miller manages the impossible: a film quintessentially built on fan- service that doesn’t suck. It’s appropriate that Deadpool has borrowed DMX as his theme tune (at least until the George Michael kicks in), because this crudely charitable spirit ebbs throughout the flick. Want some deliciously profane, sex and hyper-violence-stuffed whimsy, replete with a Guardians-calibre hilariously on-point soundtrack, and the comic’s fourth wall-shattering snark integrated in a way that’s actually funny? How about daring to dream even bigger: a big studio production that mercilessly pokes fun at its skittish budget cuts, the former cinematic bungling of the titular antihero, and even the requisite Hugh Jackman appearance in every X-Men spin off – even the magical (jizzing) unicorn of a superhero origin story without waiting an hour for the lead to appear in costume. Want all of that? Wade gon’ give it to ya.

But don’t make the mistake of dismissing the film as a feature-length meme: Miller is savvy enough to understand there’s more to Deadpool than quips and dismemberment. Sure, the plot is about as flimsy and insubstantial as anything, but, like a messier, crunchier Guardians, that’s not the point. The point lies in the emotional and character beats. Like most of cinema’s funniest, Deadpool’s psychotic humour roots in real pain, and Miller doesn’t shy away, lingering on the physical and emotional pain of Wilson’s cancer and his multifaceted torture in attempting to cure it through forcible scientific mutation to a genuinely uncomfortable extent, to ensure that neither plays as gratuitous.

But lest you be feeling goth enough to slink off to the premiere of Blade III, the film’s real surprise is yet in store. For all the gleeful irony of its Valentine’s Day release, Deadpool is a surprisingly heartfelt, hilarious and tragic romance at its core. Yes, really. Only the most ‘Pool-schooled readers would recognize that peeling away the irreverence, pancakes, and phallic samurai swords reveals a hugely self-conscious, sentimental sap within, but Miller is clearly one of the initiated. Appropriately, some of the film’s most charming, hilarious, and devastating scenes involve Wilson daring to let his guard down enough to fall in love, and, like a reddit-rattling Phantom of the Opera, too crushingly ashamed to reconnect after his superpowered facelift leaves him looking like, as T.J. Miller’s Weasel puts it, “an avocado had sex with an older avocado”. This is about as profound as the character ever really gets, but there’s poignancy and pathos to be gleaned from Wilson’s grubby fumbling at sentiment, and Miller and Reynolds nail it here.

But don’t worry – we’re still miles away from the doom ‘n gloom of the average contemporary superhero austerity, and their generic ‘all the CGI sets crumble’ climaxes. Sure, Deadpool being pared down to three action sequences does draw attention to its comparatively tiny budget, but in this age of bloated superhero excess, seeing fights kept this lean is a godsend in itself, even if it weren’t clinched by a not-so-subtle hysterical recurring gag justifying their sparsity. Still, we’re hardly left wanting: the fights are short, snappy, creatively ultra-violent (“count the bullets” being the most meta and thrilling), and stylish as hell, just as they should be, while fellow X- folk Colossus (flawlessly animated and finally Russian; a hilariously po-faced foil) and Brianna Hildebrand’s amiably sulky Negasonic Teenage Warhead allow for some buddy banter and help keep the action beats bumping all the while.

There’s no secret that Deadpool is the Ryan Reynolds show though, and his burning passion for the character fuels a now career-defining performance. Imbued with the divine gift to make even the crudest riffing gleam with cheery, sparky charisma, Reynolds nails each beat of wacky humour, springy physicality and seething, volcanic rage and hurt so effortlessly there’s the uncanny feeling of him dripping ink from being lifted off the pages of a comic. Despite having to combat a disappointingly under-written part, Morena Baccarin matches Reynolds in adorable damaged snappiness, steering just shy of sultry, manic-pixie-dream-girl stereotype by keeping the right amount of crazy in her eyes. T.J. Miller is consistently hilarious and uncompromisingly unsentimental as Wilson’s buddy Weasel, while Ed Skrein as “that British villain” brings enough pompous, brawny sadism to make his Francis-ahem- Ajax only feel slightly generic. The under-used Leslie Uggams is perfectly salty as Deadpool’s crusty roommate Blind Al (not an abductee here…), making a recurring IKEA joke surprisingly sweet. Meanwhile, keep your eyes peeled for half of Vancouver in the background.

I’d waste time with more adjectives, but you get the idea, and can use a thesaurus as well as me. Basically, Miller and Reynolds have delivered the most cathartically satisfying cinematic Deadpool imaginable, sure to capture the hearts or slice off the heads of diehards or inductees alike.

 

5 out of 5 stars

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Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017) – Movie Review

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“If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it.” Tony Stark to his intern, Peter Parker/Spider-Man.

If a superhero film such as Spider-Man: Homecoming can relay that being yourself is more important than being somebody, Director John Watts (director of the under-appreciated Cop Car with Kevin Bacon) and his crew of bright writers have succeeded. I don’t remember enjoying more such a focused, albeit young, Peter Parker/Spiderman (Tom Holland), whose emotional problems are those of any teen and not overly driven by angst over a girl, as Tobey Maguire so often portrayed.

While Peter experiences the challenges of teen love and Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.), the film keeps it personal by having fewer explosions and more introspection. Emphasizing Peter’s existential responsibility to forge his own character makes this film a cut above even the estimable Wonder Woman

The spot-on humor is better than any other superhero adventure in memory, and I’m a big Deadpool fan. The difference is that Spidey humor is organic, emanating from the foibles and insecurities of a teen, while in Deadpool practically every other line is witty and seems the product of set pieces. In Spidey, for instance, Ned (Jacob Batalon) asks Spidey, “Can you summon an army of spiders?” That’s teen to teen with absurdity and worship as comedic ingredients.

In a fine bad-guy performance by Michael Keaton, playing Adrien Toombs, the writers give him the identity of Vulture, appropriate to an actor known for his portrayal of Birdman and reminiscent of Batman. Anyway, alluding to his most famous roles, the film has fun while enhancing the richness of the character.

At times it almost seems that Toombs is there to lend some gravity, albeit villainous, to the light-hearted proceedings. When he lectures his crew about the ruling-class indifference, he’s not just talking about Brooklyn; he’s referring to the world: “The rich, the powerful, like Stark, they don’t care about us! The world’s changed boys, time we change too!”

Spidey is not all laughs, however, for Aunt May (Marisa Tomei) tells Peter about adolescence while she unwittingly comments on his heroic burden: “You need to stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

 

7 out of 10 stars

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