Ashley Voss
With my time at The Badger Herald soon drawing to a close, I wanted to end my movie-going experience on a blockbuster note. So when, by some stroke of fate, the release of "Spider-Man 3" coincided with the final Herald weekend at the movies, I could not have been more thrilled. A chance to see Tobey Maguire in a role where he would likely display signs of human life and some pretty sweet visual effects, not to mention the chance to once again team up with AP style guru, Tim "No really, towards is not a word" Williams? Yes, please.
In true fan-kid form, my partner in critique and I rolled into the theater — pre-ordered tickets in hand — ready for a night of action, thrills and good triumphing over evil. What we saw was indeed stunning, though not entirely in the way originally intended.
Blessed with such an incredibly massive budget, it seemed the latest installment of the Spider-Man films was destined for one of two fates. It could either 1. shine through as the $250 million miracle film. Or 2., the more likely scenario, "Spider-Man 3" could rely so heavily on exciting computer-generated images that it completely forgot about key components necessary to make a quality film — you know, things like dialogue, acting and actual facial expressions.
Unfortunately for writer-director Sam Raimi and company, even $250 million worth of high-flying, visually appealing special effects could not entirely rescue the superhero film from weaving a tangled web of hysterically cheesy one-liners and random filler scenes. In this new tale of the web-shooting crusader's battle with a mysterious, vengeful dark force, Spidey and friends enjoy some entertaining moments, but the should-be moments of glitz and glimmer prematurely fizzle out.
"Spider-Man 3" introduces the audience to new villains, Sandman — who unleashes a reign of fury on the streets of New York, first striking victims where it hurts most, the eyes, and then continuing to stir a wake of destruction with his crumbling fists — and Venom, whose scariest quality is a set of the nastiest looking chompers I've ever seen. Also still making his vengeful presence known is New Goblin, who enjoys a great bout of amnesia early on, setting the scene for a great "Twist" dance number and quiet nights at home working on still-life paintings. Hilarious.
It would be naive to walk into a comic book-based film expecting an Oscar-worthy screenplay, but somehow the meaning of Stan Lee's classic comic was lost in translation. Sam and Ivan Raimi's big-screen adaptation manages to hit a few high notes, but comes across as monotonous and trite. The interactions between characters are bland and emotionless, often littered with clichés. My personal favorite of course being the Time Square cameo of Stan Lee himself with the amusing morsel of wisdom: "You know, I guess one person can make a difference."
Rookie bad guy and newly (tacky) platinum blond Topher Grace ("That '70s Show") also wades in the shallow end of the quote pool as aspiring photographer Edward Brock/Venom; however, his self-deprecating remarks provide some fleeting moments of comic relief. One particular scene of note is when Grace enters the newsroom only to receive remarks about the smell of cheap peroxide on his head. His suave response: "It's a little something called Nice 'n Easy."
The comedic moments don't end with the dialogue, but carry into random physical humor as well. Tobey Maguire comes across like Jim Carrey on sedatives in a jazz-infused street scene that shows the badass Spider-Man taking a jaunt to get some new black threads with all the fine ladies in the street checking out his every pelvic thrust. Spidey's whole bad-guy persona revolves around a new set of grooming techniques and grab bag of mannerisms. Where Peter Parker and do-gooder Spider-Man part their hair to the side, shed tears over past tragedies and sacrifice their own well-being for the sake of others, dark-side Spidey sports hair similar to that of a member of Good Charlotte, smiles in the face of tragedy and bitch-slaps his girlfriend as bystanders watch on the sidelines, motionless.
And speaking of a lack of movement, this brings me to Thomas Haden Church's facial expression throughout the film's entirety (see below for more details). The actor's character, Flint Marko/Sandman is supposed to be a criminal hardened by his unlucky set of circumstances. In order to properly convey this down-on-his-luck mentality, the actor relies only on one stone-faced gaze throughout the entire film. At least he's consistent.
Viewers will surely enjoy the gazillion dollars worth of high-intensity battles, they'll like the social commentary (read: emo kids, people with popped collars are the downfall of society), but they'll be a tad disappointed at the plot holes. But when all is said and haphazardly done, despite its cheesy shortcomings, "Spider-Man 3" succeeds in keeping its audience laughing, even if unintentionally.
Ashley Voss is a senior majoring in journalism. She fears the contents of a possible "Spider-Man 4." Send any questions or comments to [email protected].
Tim Williams
"Please believe I am falling apart."
Salman Rushdie may not have had the emo movement in mind when he thus began "Midnight's Children" (although who knows, what with all that angst over disproportionate noses), but he nevertheless couldn't have summed up the venerable third installment of "Spider-Man" any better.
Why have I dragged dirty stinking literature into a discussion of a comic-book-phenomenon-turned-Tobey Maguire-career-savior? The answer, as always, can only be found in a turn inward, with all the junior high trauma, Orientalism and pointless digressions that implies.
I remember the simple days of old, when the Internet had not yet put the final nail in the coffin of irony, when emo was goth, and it was awesome. You see, dear, patient readers, our intrepid reviewer was once in great envy of the bad kids with lots of chains. One fateful gym day, I was paired with a black-clad classmate for that greatest of physically uneducating activities — badminton, the one sport that requires no skill except the ability to keep a straight face. We spun that robin 'round and 'round to the top of the charts, and it seemed our glory had no end. Sadly, we soon moved on to touch football, and we were left to flounder separately; I, running fleet but small in my corduroys; she, walking tall but apathetic away on the mange of her safety-pinned jeans.
Though I never saw that (dark-makeup) masked woman again, I still remember her fervent enthusiasm for comic books. (Ha! And both of you still reading this thought I had forgotten about the movie!) I must admit I've never actually met an emo kid, but I'd bet my bottom dollar the closest he's been to a comic book is stealing ironic apparel from Hot Topic. Irony. It should only be attempted by those who sincerely love what they parody, like Rushdie with his India and writer-director Sam Raimi ("Spider-Man 2," and hopefully not "Spider-Man 4") with his Spider-Man. And for 10 glorious minutes, faced with a battle with his inner demons and outer space goo — just when the movie seems doomed to a quicksand (Who thought a giant Sandman would make a compelling movie antagonist?) of multiplying cardboard villains and meteorite-sized plot holes (Where did Venom come from, and where did he go? Nobody watching the movie would know.) — Peter Parker parts his hair, pops his collar and shuffles down the street.
I'm not sure Raimi has ever met an emo kid either, but I'll be damned if the nerdy do-gooder and stoic (read: comatose) hero personae of Tobey Maguire's Spider-Man being swept aside for a 1920s libertine impression, complete with a piani-playin', chandelier-hoppin' and a pantyhose-exposin' dance number to get revenge on Mary Jane, isn't the most entertaining event of the summer. Composer Christopher Young deserves extra kudos for the juxtaposition of a cat-fight-to-the-death with best friend and rival Harry Osborn (James Franco) with an ultra-hip jazz score, and eschewing any "quirky" influence of Spider-Man theme-composer, and general idol of the creepier subset of the supposed emo culture for his "Nightmare Before Christmas" unmelodies, Danny Elfman.
Unfortunately, no one could ever accuse Sam Raimi of being guilty of literature. He seeks the same careful adaptation of the broad emotional strokes and sharp action of the first two movies, but this time neither the plot nor the dialogue transcends their word-balloon-sized roots. Every shot of his movies is artfully crafted, but no amount of clever framing can make a scene in which Topher Grace asks Jesus to help him kill Spider-Man watchable. As one brave aspiring critic who accompanied the Herald review crew to the nearly two hours of sequel-cliché overload noted, Raimi seems to think the best way to show characters' motivations is to have them state them, point-blank. In just one of many, many examples, the Arnold Schwarzenegger look-(and act-)alike Thomas Haden Church ("Sideways") tells his estranged wife he "isn't a bad man — [he] just has bad things happen to him." He then repeats this to everyone he meets, until he meets his corny end (hint: he's made of sand).
A better movie would have its hero seek vengeance on a man without superpowers, without the ability to regenerate any wound so that Spidey can learn from his mistakes without any consequences. "Spider-Man 2" already did this, in fact. With nowhere left to lead its characters, the third movie moves briskly but superficially through the motions, piling on subplots that make for thrilling, if seemingly preplanned for the video game, action sequences (Watch out for the hundreds of exposed pipes in the alley, Spidey!).
Hollywood, I beg you to let Spider-Man remain a fond memory in the mind of Sam Raimi and my comic-loving friend, just as my goth fantasies (and its accompanying metal band, Death Rides a Pale Tricycle) will stay forever sweet. When a fad movie only shines in mocking another fad, which possibly only exists on MySpace, it's time to go back to the old standby, ruining everyone's favorite novels. … Well, unless that means a Bollywood "Midnight's Children," starring Ben Affleck.
Tim Williams is a junior majoring in English. He is begging Sam Raimi: "Please, no mo' emo." Send any questions or comments to [email protected].
