Let's recall first the release of the first Tobey Maguire/Sam Raimi Spider-Man. It was the spring of 2002, and at least here in the US, the atmosphere was still tense and fearful in the aftermath of September 11th. The film industry seemed almost as lost as we were-- I can't for the life of me recall any truly inspiring or exciting films that came out and took us by storm during the beginning of 2002. But then Spider-Man came along and we were surprised to realize that we were ready to go to the movies again, ready to be inspired and feel that sense of hope some of us had thought we'd lost. And the Spider-Man of 2002 was the perfect film to provide that for us. If we had gone out to the theaters that spring to find a British actor starring in a film that had a lot of confusing nuances about good and evil, its appeal would have been lost on us. I know that for me, as a then-thirteen year old, the reboot's intentions and probably parts of its plot would have sailed right over my head. But Raimi and co. knew what they were doing, and they knew the audience they were doing it for. Spider-Man had a tidy plot with a clear good vs. evil framework; a hero who quickly developed the kind of confidence and swagger (well, at least as much swagger as a nerdy white teenager can have) that we thought we ourselves had lost; not to mention it was set in New York City, which at the time was considered by many the heart of our nation. American flags, a certain degree of solidarity among the city dwellers, and a strong message of perseverance colored and enhanced what might have been an otherwise mediocre film, and its release could not have been more timely.
Here in 2012, only ten years later, we have a different set of expectations for our superhero films. We turned a significant corner with 2008's The Dark Knight, which managed to integrate the age-old ideas behind comic book heroes into a complicated, chaotic, and thoroughly modern world. The success of the film (and the popularity of its villain) illustrated that we were a country and an audience grown darker, and that we wanted our movies to reflect that. I would wager that 2002's Spider-Man released now, with our thick veil of cynicism in place, would not fare as well. There was a degree of almost magic about that film, the idea of accidents and coincidences turning out for the best a core part of its mythology, and back then we needed to see that kind of movie. Now, though, we want a hero who is deeply flawed, who might stumble and fall along the way, who just wants to be normal, whatever that means. The Amazing Spider-Man achieves this, with Andrew Garfield's spot-on combination of awkwardness and brooding, as well as a staunch unwillingness to mask his emotions (or, indeed, his face--he just kept taking off that darn mask!). Garfield's Spider-Man represents this generation so accurately that he feels relateable, almost painfully so. I think the key to understanding why we need both of these films lies in the portrayal: today's teenager would struggle to realistically identify with Maguire's optimistic, almost bright and shiny Peter Parker; nor could the kids of 2002 get on board with Garfield's more contemplative, conflicted incarnation. Just goes to show, I suppose, that a decade can make a world of difference.
The minds behind The Amazing Spider-Man knew, obviously, that they were headed into potentially hostile territory in making this film, and the balance they manage to strike between paying respect to what we've already seen of the story and re-examining or altering the details is highly satisfying. It feels reverent without being over the top, showing that this isn't an attempt to erase what has already been written, but to supplement it with a deeper understanding of how this all came about.
And in the end that's what I loved most about The Amazing Spider-Man: it wasn't your average action-filled, simple plot movie. In fact, I was kind of amazed at how long it took for us to actually arrive at the first significant action sequence. Once you've seen the whole film, however, you find yourself realizing that the depth with which it paints the characters makes you feel that much more connected to them. Garfield's Peter Parker/Spider-Man spends more time simply sitting and thinking than any superhero I think I've ever seen in a film, but for his character it makes so much sense. You'd be disappointed, I think, to see him simply throw himself into being Spider-Man without much consideration for the consequences, after the way his character is introduced and fleshed out. Gwen Stacy is a similarly interesting character, in that we get so much more valuable information about who she is than we ever did with Mary Jane Watson. Gwen cottons on to the danger of dating a superhero right away--she's even the one who points the problem out to Peter! She's also much more autonomous: every time she winds up in danger it's because she's put herself there intentionally with the goal of helping the people she loves. Sure, she does need to be rescued occasionally (I think technically that only happens once in the film) because this is a superhero movie after all, but you definitely aren't left wondering whether she can hold her own. This, I think, is another mark of how far we've come (all political women's rights issues aside)-- the 2012 audience demands a female lead who isn't simply there to look pretty (even though she does, because gosh darn it Emma Stone is adorable).
The film also strives to emphasize that, even given these amazing powers, Peter Parker is never going to be some larger-than-life iconic figure. This is illustrated beautifully in a climactic scene in which Spider-Man is trying to rescue a young boy from a burning vehicle. His words and his expression show real terror, like he knows he has no business being there trying to act the hero. There are also some great scenes with his aunt and uncle that illustrate those relationships in a much more satisfying way than the original film (the fact that in this version Uncle Ben and Aunt May are portrayed by Martin Sheen and Sally Field also helps). Peter's motivations for nearly all of his actions as Spider-Man are also inextricably linked to his deep need to understand and feel connected to his family, first in his search for an old friend of his father's and later in his quest to avenge Uncle Ben's death. This seems to me significantly better motivation than wanting to buy a car to impress a pretty girl.
Overall, this film has an emotional core that I wasn't quite expecting--the cast is small but determined to provide genuine insight into each and every character, and to make sure that when those characters are placed in peril, it's gonna frickin' hurt. It also leaves the door wide open for a sequel that could go in almost any direction and which is sure to be capable of equally heart-wrenching moments--let's not forget that in the comic books Gwen Stacy dies horrifically when Spider-Man fails to save her from the Green Goblin. Given the acting abilities of Stone and Garfield as well as how well this film has invested us in their relationship, I'm already dreading this moment in the inevitable sequel.
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