Last week, I ended my article saying that "Into the Spider-Verse" would blow us all away. I had no idea how prophetic this would be.
A year ago, I remember being impressed by two particular superhero movies for opposite reasons: "Logan," for showing what happens when our heroes grow too old, and "Spider-Man: Homecoming," for showing what happens when our heroes are too young. Amidst a lot of monotone entries in the competing cinematic universes, the two also stood out stylistically. "Logan" sported a dusty, noir aesthetic with R-rated violence and gritty dialogue. "Homecoming" borrowed a lot of tropes from high school coming-of-age films that gave the film an especially jovial, down-to-earth tone, especially compared to Peter Parker's two previous iterations. I give both movies props just for doing something different in a well-worn genre — they're the reason I'm not tired of superhero films. Yet.
"Into the Spider-Verse" reminds me of these films not only for its stylistic uniqueness, but for the ways in which it combines young and old heroism. First and foremost, the film is brilliantly animated. It dances through a gigantic color palette with special attention given to making each frame look comic-bookish. This leaves the action feeling incredibly well-staged and frenetic. It also cleverly reframes on-screen comic book captions as "loud thoughts" that don't appear for Miles until he's received his powers. Varying animation styles reflect different moods throughout the film. The villains, especially Green Goblin and Kingpin, are excessively cartoonish to give them a more menacing presence; Spiderham moves like a Looney Tunes character, and Noir only ever appears in a brooding grayscale. The range of animation in this film is astounding — even if you don't like the story, you can't deny that the movie looks spectacular.
Also, you should like the story. I'd often wondered what an interaction between Old Man Logan and Holland's Spider-Man might look like, and now that "Into the Spider-Verse" is out, I think I can settle for the dynamic between Peter B. Parker and Miles Morales. As plot contrivances go, the multiverse can be a mixed bag — a lot of stories get too bogged down in trying to explain what it is and how it exists (*cough,* Dr. Who). "Into the Spider-Verse," on the other hand, does a great job of focusing its multiverse on character growth. Peter B. is a washed-up hero who has to grapple with a blond, Adonis-like image of himself in another universe, overcoming his personal failures and stigmas to train Miles. Miles is an upstart who wants to live up to his dad's expectations for him but feels overwhelmed and alone in his responsibility. With the company of a few other Spiders (who, admittedly, don't get much of a character arc), the two help each other grow as heroes.
The story refuses to boil down to a moral as reductive as "with great power comes great responsibility." Instead, it interviews a plethora of characters who've dealt with that moral differently. At the end of the day, it is still true that responsibility and power go hand in hand, but it is more important that no one person has to bear the entire power or responsibility of heroism; anyone can wear the mask, and everyone should be a hero. That is the unique perspective of "Into the Spider-Verse" — I look forward to seeing how they move forward with this concept in the future.
