When I was first encouraged to watch Damien Chazelle’s 2014 jazz-injected drama Whiplash, I was hesitant. As a drummer and lover of jazz myself, I had seen other attempts to bring realistically compelling percussion to the big screen (in films like Drumline and Wayne’s World) and was always underwhelmed. I felt that films like these had never quite captured the fiery, domineering nature of drumming that I thought a silver-screen treatment deserved. Eventually, however, I sat down many years ago to watch the film and it quickly became one of my favorite films of all time.
Why? I guess you’ll have to keep reading to find out… 😉 [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “Whiplash.” You have been warned.] The Good For the uninitiated, Whiplash tells the story of freshman college student Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller) who is also an aspiring jazz drummer with a dream of being “one of the greats.” After meeting prestigious jazz constructor Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), he is given that opportunity to prove himself and achieve greatness. But the more time he spends under the cruel and ruthless tutelage of Fletcher, it becomes clear to Neiman that the path he is on may not be worth the potential reward in the end. This first section is devoted to highlighting some good aspects of the film that may be overshadowed by other elements that I’ll be addressing later. To call these things weak in comparison to the great things of Whiplash would be to unfairly characterize them as anything but sufficiently competent filmmaking. While many viewers come away in awe of the central performances (notably Simmons), I always come to appreciate the two important supporting characters more every time I revisit Whiplash: Andrew’s unambitious but loving father Jim (Paul Reiser) and Andrew’s short-lived girlfriend Nicole (Melissa Benoist). Both characters serve as the only substantive perspectives the audience gets looking from the outside into this absurd, jazz-obsessed world that Andrew becomes consumed with as the film goes on. Thus, they offer a refreshing way for Chazelle to give the audience some reprieve and reassurance that our concerns about Andrew’s well-being while in Fletcher’s presence are merited and understandable. Furthermore, both Benoist and Reiser play their respective roles well without overshadowing our protagonist and antagonist. In my humble opinion, they are examples of the best kind of supporting performances. Reiser remains Andrew’s steadfast supporter and mentor who only wants him to be happy and free of the undue stress and abuse that Fletcher causes (I’ll talk more about him in the next section regarding the film’s ending). Benoist, on the other hand, gives the audience a glimpse in the film’s first act into the kind of college life Andrew could have by balancing fierce dedication to academics with fostering a genuine, meaningful relationship with Nicole. Instead, however, Fletcher’s incessant pushing of him towards greatness pushes Andrew down the rabbit hole towards greatness to the point that he breaks it off with her in the worst way possible. And Benoist plays their break-up scene well by both spelling out Andrew’s flawed, selfish reasoning for ending their relationship and calling him out on how much of a jackass he is being in the process. Simply put, Benoist never plays Nicole as a dolt but as an intelligent young woman who sees the core of Andrew’s obsession with greatness as a warning sign and exits his life before she is dragged down with him. Which brings us to the film’s central theme: the cost of success. Arguably, the various ways in which Chazelle explores this idea are better than good but I will focus on some of those ways in later sections. Instead, I want to focus here on pouring praise and admiration onto Whiplash for exploring this theme in the first place. Certainly, other movies have addressed this notion of whether or not it is worth life and limb to become great (Spider-Man 2 and The Social Network come to mind). But Whiplash brings many disparate elements together to do so in a way that (in my humble opinion) remains unmatched to this day. From showing the complex dimensions of Andrew’s toxic mentor-mentee relationship with Fletcher to the emphasis on the technicality and physical brutality of drumming (especially jazz drumming) as a visual metaphor, Chazelle never relents on keeping the audience asking the question: is all of this worth it? We never necessarily get a conclusive answer, but the film never fails to inspire critical examination, discussion, and introspection about the many inherent flaws of this notion in our culture about doing everything within our power to become great. There are many movies that explore heady, sophisticated, and relevant themes like this, but few do it as well as Whiplash does. The Great While I greatly respect and appreciate the skill of Benoist and Reiser’s supporting performances, it is undeniable that the true stars of this film are Miles Teller and J.K. Simmons. When comparing the two, it’s easy to view Simmons as the superior talent here (evidenced by his winning an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor). However, I find it virtually impossible for me to separate the greatness of either of these two actors’ performances from each other because of how much the story intertwines their fates. Regarding Teller, he could have easily submitted to an on-the-nose naivete in portraying Andrew and his swift, sudden realization of Fletcher’s true nature. Instead, he grounds the character’s tragic flaw of desiring greatness in an observational intelligence that allows him to figure out Fletcher more and more as the runtime progresses despite always being one step behind Fletcher. Teller makes the audience root for Andrew in his struggle to prove to Fletcher that he deserves greatness, while also showing us how his drive in this struggle makes him undeserving of love and affection from his father or Nicole (or at least discourages us from wanting such things for him). Is Teller the “star” of the show? Perhaps not, but the audience’s sympathy for our protagonist only works because of the caliber of his performance. But I understand why pretty much anyone who watches Whiplash comes away loving the performance of J.K. Simmons as Fletcher. He’s damn good at being a cartoonish antagonist for Andrew in all the best ways. Never does he feel separate from the reality established in the film, but instead is the pinnacle of the worst of it. As the jazz band conductor, Simmons says and does things that force viewers to ask: does this kind of thing actually happen in band?!? In my experience, no. However, I have had conductors and teachers in the past who have done and said things that evoked similar emotions that Fletcher provokes from his students. Rather than relying on hyper-realism in characterizing Simmons’ character, Chazelle (who also wrote the film) hyperbolizes and exaggerates Fletcher’s personality while also grounding him so as to emotionally resonate with the audience. The character never falls flat or overshoots in terms of connecting with our desire to see him “defeated” in some way, and yet when that doesn’t necessarily happen by the film’s end, we’re not disappointed per se. Which brings me to one of my personal favorite elements of Chazelle’s storytelling in Whiplash: the ending. Specifically, the way that the final scene with Andrew playing his solo and Fletcher finally accepting him is shot, edited, and acted allows for a refreshing ambiguity regarding the film’s moral message. As I said in the previous section of this blog, the central question being posed is whether the reward of becoming great outweighs the costs of getting there. To be clear, I firmly believe that Chazelle the human being has a strong opinion on the matter (especially based on the fact that the story of the film is partially based on his own experiences in a “very competitive” high school jazz band). However, Chazelle the writer and director ends Whiplash in the best way by not giving his audience a conclusive answer. He never judges Andrew’s decision to go back to Fletcher’s world and reverse the humiliation he just experienced (excluding the shot of his father’s shock thanks to a heartbreaking performance from Reiser). Instead, he lets us decide for ourselves whether Andrew was right or not to do what he did and if the movie has a happy or sad ending. There is no greater praise I can give to a storyteller than for avoiding forcing their audience to come away with one moral conclusion over any other. And Chazelle does that expertly with the ending of Whiplash. The Groundbreaking While I am certainly not an expert in cinematography or post-production (i.e. editing, sound design), it does not take such expertise to watch Whiplash and not come away with recognizing the talent and craft that went into these elements of the film. Combining artful, tension-ratcheting close-ups, quick and purposeful cuts to instill a sense of chaos, and the parallel use of drumming sounds to enhance the visual storytelling, Chazelle’s creative team (cinematographer Tom Cross and sound mixers Ben Wilkins, Craig Mann, and Thomas Curley) serves up a master class of small-budget filmmaking that rivals any Best Picture winner of any decade. Period. As a whole, the cinematography, editing, and sound design of Whiplash does the impossible in putting the audience in the shoes of Andrew Neiman. In other words, it effectively projects the physical and mental sensation of drumming so as to further invest the audience in the story beyond simply relating to the characters and/or engaging with its themes. There are a handful of scenes that best exemplify this craft, but the one that best encapsulates all of these talents into a singular artistic vision is Andrew’s solo performance during the climax. From the cutting back-and-forth between Andrew’s solo fills and Fletcher conducting the rest of the band to the zooms into Andrew’s face contrasted with his sticks hitting the drum heads, this scene is everything. Of course, it serves as the catharsis for the story as we finally see Andrew overcome Fletcher’s doubts and abuse by proving his greatness (in spite of the ambiguous character of this decision exemplified by the look on his father’s face). But Chazelle’s goal in the scene simply falls flat if not for the expert combination of editing and sound design that went into it. If a movie about (on the surface) jazz drumming lacked a cohesive vision when it came to its look and sound in establishing its mood and tone, then it simply wouldn’t work. Needless to say, Whiplash is not one of those. Conclusion Without question, Whiplash is one of my favorite films of all time—and easily one of the best of this century—and thus it felt fitting to discuss it today on the seventh anniversary of its release. What are your thoughts on Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash? What do you think of his other films? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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Image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay I never grew up admiring the character of James Bond nor did I mark the occasion of the release of a new Bond film as a special cinematic occasion. I was more focused on Star Wars and the burgeoning Marvel Cinematic Universe, and I just never was particularly intrigued by spy movies to begin with. When I decided to watch through the four James Bond films starring Daniel Craig in the lead role, I truly did not know what to expect. I also genuinely was unsure if I would like any of them to any extent. But with the release of Cary Joji Fukunaga’s No Time to Die this weekend―Craig’s final outing in the role―I thought it’d be fitting to look back at all of the James Bond films starring Craig and see how he has evolved in the role and how various creators have translated Bond for the 21st century. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! Casino Royale (2006) I had certainly heard good things about Martin Campbell’s 2006 film Casino Royale in which Craig makes his first appearance as Bond. But to reiterate I was doubtful if any spy films could suck me into liking this character born out of the 1960s. From what I understood of Bond’s character as a narcissistic, misogynistic secret agent personified by the likes of Sean Connery (among others), I came into this film automatically standoffish to any attempt to modernize the character. But then Daniel Craig in Casino Royale just pulls it off in such a way that makes it somehow work. Much of what works about this film for me is encapsulated in the opening scene where Bond―shrouded in darkness and sitting in a corner―has a chat with his target before killing him without hesitation. At its core, this scene is about Bond being in complete control of the situation and pulling off the hit without breaking a sweat. Such a cool, badass way to introduce Bond but especially introducing an uninitiated viewer such as myself to who this character is. And then, throughout the course of the film’s runtime, we get to see Bond face increasingly difficult challenges that highlight the fact that he is not superhuman and is not even an experienced agent yet. But he retains a sense of calm confidence that reassures the audience that he will always get out of a sticky situation even if the people around him do not believe him. Halfway through the runtime, I was shocked at how much I was enjoying Casino Royale despite its slow-burn nature. For me, a film that can build suspense gradually and make the payoffs so rewarding is one of the greatest successes of the three-act structure (lookin’ at you, Parasite!). And this movie dispelled my initial trepidations about this kind of spy movie because it warmed me up to the story and the characters while escalating the tension slowly but effectively leading up to the second-act poker game. Without question, this set piece excels at virtually everything it is trying to achieve from establishing the character dynamics between Bond and his love interest Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), his American counterpart Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright), and his nemesis Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen). Not only does the story advance with the various stages of the poker game, but the interstitial action offers multiple opportunities to display Bond’s skill sets and inject more meaning into his burgeoning romance with Vesper to help the third-act climax all the more impactful and powerful. Ultimately, any movie (in my humble opinion) only works as well as its characters and the extent to which I feel invested in both their individual journeys and their relationships with the other characters. Without question, Crag and Green’s chemistry may not be in-your-face lovable but by the end (and before Vesper’s demise) I want them to have a life together. I also feel genuinely betrayed by Vesper screwing Bond over, but then my heart breaks seeing Bond unable to save her from drowning. If someone told me that Casino Royale would take on a satisfying emotional rollercoaster before I first watched it, I would not have believed them. My favorite Craig’s take on Bond remains up in the air, but at the end of the day I stand by Casino Royale being the best of his five James Bond films (and arguably one of the best movies of the 21st century). By the time the credits were rolling, I was ready to see Bond’s revenge story in the sequel. If only the sequel lived up to the hype… Quantum of Solace (2008) I have little to say about Quantum of Solace, Marc Forster’s direct follow-up to Casino Royale. Mainly because I did not like it and do not understand why anyone does. The first twenty-ish minutes immediately caused me to put my guard up as I found the editing of the car chase in Italy to not only lack cohesion but be incredibly straining to the eyes. The hyper-rapid cutting made me damn-near nauseous to the point that I had to close my eyes for extended periods of time just to readjust my gaze on the screen. When it comes to the story of Quantum of Solace, the choice to make it more convoluted and complex than its predecessor was sorely misguided. Instead of intensely focusing on Bond’s revenge for the first two acts, we get an unengaging narrative about a coup d’etat in Brazil enacted by some faceless terrorist organization that I don’t care about at all. There are no memorable supporting characters or villains in the movie, and Bond lacks any sort of captivating character arc like he had in Casino Royale where he faced the gravity of the consequences of being a spy. Simply put, Quantum of Solace sucks and it does not deserve to be in the same franchise as Casino Royale or Skyfall (or even Spectre for that matter). But it is, so whatever. Skyfall (2012) If Casino Royale is the epitome of “slow-burn” filmmaking in a stylized action spy movie, then Skyfall multiplies the action and takes a hint from some of the more recent entries in the Mission: Impossible franchise to craft one of the best action flicks of this century. Of course, one cannot begin to discuss the greatness of Skyfall without addressing the cold-open action scene and the breathtaking title sequence. Immediately the audience is thrown into a tense action set piece where we see Craig’s version of Bond at the peak of his abilities as a super spy. And it all builds to Eve Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) inadvertently shooting (and presumably killing) Bond. As he falls into the water below the running train, we are treated to one of the best opening credits sequences that I have ever seen for a movie. Undeniably, the animation expertly captivates the eye while also telling the story of Bond’s survival and escape into early retirement. But what completes the ambiance of this sequence (and establishes the melancholic tone of the whole movie) is Adele’s rendition of the titular song. Her voice is both illuminating and haunting in a way that communicates so clearly the incredibly high stakes that Skyfall has going forward. From there, director Sam Mendes offers up a well-executed action movie with genuine stakes that harkens back to Casino Royale in terms of its grounded character dynamics but amps up the action to keep the pace fresh. Furthermore, this film puts Bond into an incredibly dangerous “cat-and-mouse” chase with ex-spy-turned-cyberterrorist Raoul Silva (Javier Bardem). But setting aside the action and story, what really allows Skyfall to transcend other films like it (in my humble opinion) is the believable and humanizing mother-son relationship between Craig’s Bond and M (Judi Dench). While I really fell in love with Craig and Green’s chemistry in Casino Royale, I actually Bond’s dynamic with M a little better in terms of his characterization. Whereas Vesper Lynd was a well-done, modernized Bond girl, M offers a look at Bond through a different lens in that it highlights his non-romantic attachments that form his core weaknesses of personality which make him so vulnerable during the film’s climax. Coming down to the last twenty minutes or so, Skyfall culminates all of the emotional stakes and high-octane action choreography into a very touching parting between Bond and M that made me feel for Bond as much (if not more) than when he watched his love drown to death in front of him in Casino Royale. Needless to say, it remains one of my favorite movies of the last two decades and holds up as one of the best action spy movies of all time. Spectre (2015) Going into the 2015 follow-up to Skyfall, I was quite certain that Mendes would simply be unable to capture lightning in a bottle twice (which ended up being true). In many respects, Spectre would probably stand out as one of the better Bond movies of the last few decades if not for the existence of its predecessors like Casino Royale and Skyfall. Largely speaking, that expectation was met for me as I found Spectre to be a decent movie but not a great one. Ultimately, much of my lackluster response to this movie comes down to just how much it pales in comparison to other Bond flicks and other movies like it. For starters, the central journey of Bond longing to retire from spy work lacks the impact that it needed for me to care because it’s been done better in films like Logan and Mission: Impossible III. While I understand why Bond wants to retire given all that he’s been through, he never felt like he was adamantly pushing for it for much of the runtime. When it comes to the villainous mastermind of Spectre personified in Ernst Blofeld (Christoph Waltz), he simply pales in comparison to Raoul Silva from the previous movie. Whereas Bardem’s character in Skyfall served as a great foil to Bond as both coming from MI6 but coming away with very different perspectives on the work that they do, Waltz’s character in this film feels like Mendes’s one example of trying to one-up something from Skyfall by creating a personal grudge between Blofeld and Bond. At the end of the day, though, this just felt forced and beneath Waltz’s talents as an actor. I also found the plot of Spectre to be (almost) as forgettable as the one in Quantum of Solace, with the roles of various characters (notably Ralph Fiennes as the new M) lacking significance or relevance to make me care enough. While I did not hate watching Spectre, by the end I was thinking to myself: “Man, I hope Craig’s run as Bond ends on a higher note than this.” No Time to Die (2021)
[NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “No Time to Die.” You have been warned.] While Craig’s final outing as Bond was not the powerful sendoff that some people are saying it is, I was pretty satisfied with No Time to Die as someone who has no childhood nostalgia or sentimental attachment to the character and his rich, complex history. There is a good deal to like about this film, but also some undeniable drawbacks. So, let’s dive in, shall we? 😊 For me, what is perhaps best about No Time to Die is the character arc that Craig is given here. While not as intellectually engaging or emotionally satisfying as his journey in Casino Royale, Bond’s grappling with his age ended up being more thoughtful and profound than I figured it would be. Unlike some other movies that tackle the protagonists confronting their mortality, Craig wrestles with more than just his physical deteriorating (not only because he still comes off as fit and physically capable as ever). In short, Bond must admit to himself that he wants a life beyond espionage with people to care about and love. While virtually any other Bond film would shroud this story in an unbelievable guise of machismo for the sake of saving his archetype from being―God forbid―humanized, director Cary Fukunaga makes Bond emotionally vulnerable. Perhaps some diehard Bond fans will find this arc unbefitting of the exemplar action star, but I thought it was refreshing and a suitable conclusion to this Bond’s journey as well as Craig’s tenure as the womanizing super spy. Aside from Craig as Bond, No Time to Die allows two specific supporting characters―one returning and one new―to shine in the film’s first act. Despite his minimal screen time, I greatly appreciated Jeffrey Wright’s return as CIA agent Felix Leiter. Not only do we see an unspoken history having developed between Leiter and Bond via their friendly interactions at a dance club in Jamaica, but his final interaction with Bond in a sinking tugboat is quite touching. Essentially, Felix is a mirror for Bond to look and see what will happen if he stays in the game too long: he will never get to live the life he wanted, just as Felix has missed his shot before his demise. The somewhat (but ultimately not) surprising standout from the supporting case was newcomer Ana de Armas as fresh-faced CIA agent Paloma. Not only is she charming as hell, but she holds her own alongside Bond and the new 007 (Lashana Lynch) in one of the film’s best fight sequences that takes place in Cuba. While de Armas initially comes off as a dolt or fangirl, she more than proves herself in a fight by shooting and kicking her way out of a jam while in high heels and an evening gown. While I know that Craig is done with the role of Bond, I am hopeful that de Armas returns in a future installment in a more prominent role because her badass female presence is much-needed in this franchise (and in the modern action genre as a whole). Regarding the action sequences in No Time to Die, they are few and far between but generally “punch” (pun intended 😊) when they happen. I was particularly entertained by the intense car chase through the narrow streets of Matera, Italy during the film’s extended cold open scene. I found it a great way to get back into Craig’s Bond universe after Spectre. And the action steps it up a notch in the third act with an incredibly composed one-shot shootout between Bond and the goons of Safin (Rami Malek) through several flights of stairs. If you’re looking for constant action, you won’t get it here. But if you’re fine with some punctuated action set pieces that you can count on one hand, then I think you’ll appreciate this movie. I did ultimately enjoy No Time to Die, so I don’t want to focus on the negatives as much. But there are some specific elements of the movie that I want to highlight so you’re aware of them going into it. To begin, I believed the emotional stakes of Bond’s journey via Craig’s acting but the chemistry he has with Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux) leaves something to be desired. I don’t blame Seydoux’s or Craig’s acting skills, but rather the writing of their scenes together lacks the strong gut punch needed to carry what is intended to be a tear-jerker ending for their story. Which is disappointing considering this film has an unnecessarily stretched-out runtime spanning over two-and-a-half hours. Certainly, their screentime could have been used more ergonomically to make Bond’s farewell more impactful. But it just was not. Furthermore, while I appreciated both Wright’s and de Armas’ presence in this movie I found the other supporting characters lackluster in comparison. I did like Ralph Fiennes’ “M” more interesting here than in Spectre, but his dynamic with Bond still pales in comparison to Craig’s chemistry with Dame Judi Dench from Skyfall. But he has more to do than either Ben Whishaw as “Q” or Naomie Harris as Moneypenny who ultimately fulfill their roles in the plot and make very little impression beyond that. Regarding newcomers Lashana Lynch as the new 007 and Rami Malek as the villain Safin, I came away from the movie feeling that their performances were adequate and sufficient but not super memorable or resonant. So, is No Time to Die a fitting end for Craig’s run as James Bond? In some ways it is, and I think its strengths outweigh its flaws. That being said, this is not a film that I plan on rewatching anytime soon. And without a doubt in my mind, it pales in comparison to both Casino Royale and Skyfall. At the end of the day, how will I remember Daniel Craig’s turn as James Bond? Well, my lack of attachment to this character or this franchise makes it easy to say that I’ll reminisce fondly about Casino Royale and Skyfall and not think much past those two films. Honestly, I’d be fine if the Bond franchise ended with No Time to Die because (in my humble opinion) this character has been (and will continue to be) very difficult to modernize while retaining that which defines him. But, I’m not in charge of the franchise so I guess I’ll keep my eye out for what comes next for Bond even though I’m in no way, shape, or form eager for it. With all that said, here is my official ranking of Daniel Craig’s five “James Bond” films:
What is your favorite Daniel Craig appearance as Bond? Who do you want to see play the next Bond? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst Image by Jason King from Pixabay I’ve mentioned in several previous blogs that the only superhero movies that I grew up with were Sam Raimi’s three Spider-Man flicks released from 2002 to 2007. At that age, I’m quite certain that I could not tell between good and bad movies. So, looking back on these three films, I wonder what about them that I enjoyed. Furthermore, by the time that Tom Holland entered the Marvel Cinematic Universe as the web-slinging teenager in Captain America: Civil War, my love for Spider-Man was rekindled. And yet, I found myself again thinking: what is it about this character on the silver screen that continues to fascinate audiences to this day?
What better way to reflect on this question than to delve into all of the (non-MCU) iterations of Spider-Man, from Raimi’s trilogy starring Tobey Maguire to the modern Venom-centric franchise serving as Sony’s attempt to compete with Marvel Studios and Warner Brothers for a commercially and critically successful comic book film universe. Is Spider-Man 3 truly the worst iteration on the character? Is The Amazing Spider-Man 2 underrated, and The Amazing Spider-Man overrated? Is Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse one of the greatest comic book films ever made? You’ll have to keep reading to find out my takes on these essential questions of cinematic nerddom. 😉 So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! The Sam Raimi Trilogy (2002-2007) Growing up with the original Spider-Man trilogy directed by the one and only Sam Raimi (The Evil Dead, A Simple Plan), I was both incredibly excited and rather nervous about revisiting them nearly twenty years later with what I believe are my more sophisticated cinematic sensibilities. While admittedly these movies (notably the middle entry) influenced the direction of the comic book genre today, the prospect of them failing to hold up relative to films from Marvel Studios and Warner Brothers seemed palpable. Still, I dove headfirst and decided to rewatch the trilogy in one day as part of a weekend movie extravaganza. Before I delve into my criticisms of these films, I greatly encourage those who also grew up with them to go back and rewatch them. If nothing else, the experience will be filled with smiles and laughter if one has the right mindset. That being said, there’s no use holding off any longer. What did I think of Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy? … Man, if these movies aren’t the pinnacle of “so bad it’s good” then I’m not sure I understand that phrase anymore. While I did my best to toss the rose-colored, nostalgia-soaked glasses aside, it was difficult to remove my personal biases in favor of these movies. I was simply having too much fun revisiting these characters and reliving the cinematic time capsule that was the mid-2000s defined by retrospectively questionable CGI and special effects, charming homage to old-school acting that now comes off as over-the-top, and the dried-out paper towel of a character that is Tobey Maguire’s Peter Parker. Needless to say, I don’t think there was a break in me laughing shorter than 30 seconds while rewatching 2002’s Spider-Man. There is so much that does not hold up in the best way in terms of the characterization of Peter Parker/Spider-Man, his creepy and inappropriate relationship with Mary-Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst), his quasi-1950s/overtly “Americana” dynamic with Uncle Ben (Cliff Robertson) and Aunt May (Rosemary Harris), and the utterly cartoonish performance of the one and only Willem Dafoe as Norman Osborn/Green Goblin. I figured going into Spider-Man that I would find the fight scenes to be the most absurd elements of the film. But there were a number of thoroughly enjoyable character interactions (particularly between Peter & Norman or Spidey and Goblin) that put me into tear-inducing jerks of laughter. No offense to the actors (except Tobey Maguire), but I simply cannot understand how Sam Raimi signed off on these performances in all three films. There is so little humanity to grasp onto as so much of both the 2002 film and its two sequels feels pulled straight out of the original comic book or a Saturday morning cartoon. Again, I had loads of fun watching the movies in this new light. But it doesn’t make them good movies. I do want to devote some time in this section of my blog to the question that (in my humble opinion) not enough comic book movie nerds have been asking recently: is Spider-Man 2 actually good? The short answer is no, but I feel compelled to explain my reasoning based on my rewatch because there appears to be a vocal minority that continues to defend this movie as one of the best comic book movies ever made in spite of films such as The Dark Knight, The Avengers, and Logan existing now. To highlight the best aspects of Spider-Man 2, it is undeniably a fairly well-structured story focusing on Spidey’s fall with some truly compelling action sequences between him and Doctor Octopus (Alfred Molina) such as the famous train sequence. Furthermore, it is the only film in Raimi’s trilogy where Peter has some actually good character moments (I really like seeing him run into the burning building to save those children without his powers because it’s basically the only time we see Peter Parker prove that he’s the hero and not Spider-Man). But everything else about the movie is passable, mediocre or straight-up bad. The humor is very hit-or-miss, Doc Ock’s character leaves something to be desired in light of other comic book movie villains in recent memory (Two-Face in The Dark Knight and Michael Keaton in Spider-Man: Homecoming, just to name a few), and Raimi’s exploration of the theme of what it takes to be Spider-Man lacks a fulfilling end. The answer is essentially that Peter Parker just has to sacrifice being any semblance of normality for his future in order to be Spider-Man, which is a pretty unsatisfying conclusion for the middle entry in this trilogy. Which brings us to one of the contenders for the “black sheep” of comic book movies that is 2007’s Spider-Man 3. To be clear, I am not going to defend this movie as being objectively better than the other two of Raimi’s trilogy. But does it have some redeeming qualities? I think so, and those who have piledrove this movie into the abyss of rejection over the years have failed to acknowledge what it does just as well (in some cases better) than its two predecessors. Notably, Spider-Man 3 is easily the best looking of the films. Not just in terms of special effects and CGI, but its cinematography is damn good (which makes sense as it was done by Bill Pope who also shot The Matrix, 2016’s The Jungle Book, and Baby Driver). I also found the sympathetic angle on the villain Sandman (Thomas Haden Church) to be refreshing as it was severely lacking in the first two films (I particularly appreciated Sandman’s “birth” scene that holds up to this day and is also emotionally resonant). Finally, I am a sucker for Spider-Man teaming up with Harry Osborn/New Goblin (James Franco) in the third act even though it’s pretty unearned. On that note, shout-out to Peter’s fight scenes with Harry which stand out as some of the better action sequences of the trilogy. All in all, Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy is stuck in a moment in time in so many respects that they fail to outmatch many other comic book movies from this century. But, at the end of the day, they are quite rewatchable for the sheer fun of seeing some ridiculous superhero antics play out on screen. They’re by no means quality films, but (in my humble opinion) they perfectly fit the popular concept of movies that come full circle from being so bad that they actually become good again. The Marc Webb Duology (2012-2014) While I grew up with Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy, the opposite is true for Marc Webb’s two Amazing Spider-Man movies from the early 2010s starring Andrew Garfield. I never saw them in theaters nor on television or DVD. Simply put, I had never seen either of these films until this year. I had heard a plethora of mixed opinions about their strengths and weaknesses, and thus kept an open mind while watching them. I was pleasantly surprised by 2012’s The Amazing Spider-Man for a number of reasons. First and foremost, the caliber of actors is top-notch thanks to the sweet, father-son-like chemistry between Garfield’s Peter Parker and Uncle Ben (Martin Sheen) and the charming, youthful dynamic that Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone) has with Garfield. These three actors make Peter’s struggle to accept Uncle Ben’s death and the refreshingly modern take on Peter’s love life palpable and enjoyable to watch. As an origin film, I think that The Amazing Spider-Man does some things better than the 2002 film and some things equally amateurish. For example, the scene where Peter’s powers kick in on the subway was certainly different and less cheesy than Tobey Maguire’s spider-infested dream state in 2002’s Spider-Man. However, it was still pretty awkward and felt out-of-place in what ended up being a fairly dramatic movie. On that point, I know that some people find the darker origin story for Spider-Man to be blasphemous to his comic-book roots. But like other elements of The Amazing Spider-Man it came off as refreshing to me. It added to the movie’s (somewhat) unique identity in the pantheon of superhero films. Certainly not all of it worked, however, such as the involvement of Peter’s parents (which I’ll address more with the second Marc Webb film). I don’t want to move on without highlight the superior writing of Gwen Stacy as an intelligent woman with agency who recognizes when Peter or her father (Denis Leary) are undermining her. I particularly appreciated the moment towards the end when Gwen realizes why Peter is trying to distance himself from her. Such a small change from the stereotypical portrayal of Mary-Jane that we got in Raimi’s trilogy, but it resonated with me and enhanced The Amazing Spider-Man even more for me. I also thought that Peter’s relationship with the villain, Dr. Curt Connors/The Lizard (Rhys Ifans), achieved what the Spidey/Doc Ock relationship in Spider-Man 2 failed to do in fostering a genuine, believable sympathy that Spider-Man has for his nemesis. Again, just another example of the better writing in this movie compared to other attempts by Sony Pictures to bring the famous web crawler to the silver screen. Unfortunately, my unexpected respect for The Amazing Spider-Man was significantly undermined by the utter travesty that is 2014’s The Amazing Spider-Man 2. With so many solid emotional stakes that were left hanging at the end of the first film, the sequel essentially threw it all out the window in favor of what amounts to a high-budget cartoonish continuation of Garfield’s Spider-Man with a superfluously long runtime. I was really hoping that I would like The Amazing Spider-Man 2, but it just squandered any hope I had for Webb’s duology having anything akin to timeless appeal. From the underwhelming use of Electro (Jamie Foxx) failing to fulfill the potential of the villain’s presence to Peter’s distracting investigation into his parents’ past to the cheap use of Gwen’s death in the climax in an attempt to evoke sadness out of the audience, the film felt like it was trying to do so much without putting any serious effort into any of it. It stretched itself too thin, and fell flat on its face as a result. So, compared to Raimi’s trilogy, Marc Webb’s The Amazing Spider-Man films ultimately lack a cohesive identity of their own to help them stand apart. Despite some intriguing elements from the first film and some well-done action in both films, they ended up doing very little for me in the long run. I may rewatch Raimi’s trilogy in ten or twenty years just to laugh out loud; I’ll probably never rewatch these movies again. Venom (2018) When it comes to Sony’s latest attempt to jumpstart a cinematic universe of its own, the 2018 Tom Hardy vehicle Venom is a blasé place to begin. Despite its unforeseen (and, in my humble opinion, undeserving) financial success (it grossed over 850 million dollars at the box office), Venom was critically panned when it was released yet retains some devoted defenders of it to this day. Is it the new Spider-Man 2? Perhaps. 😊 To speak first of the positives, I was somewhat entertained by the quirky relationship between Hardy’s Eddie Brock and the symbiote that infects him. It was certainly a different angle characterizing a parasitic and sadistic alien creature as a lonely underdog who becomes emotionally attached to helping Brock in his fight against Carlton Drake/Riot (Riz Ahmed). Their back-and-forth (particularly in the back half of the movie) was mildly amusing at times. Also, I noticed on my rewatch of the movie about a year ago that Eddie never goes through some sort of fantastical physical transformation into something akin to Chris Evans in Captain America: The First Avenger. He is never sexualized or objectified in that way, which felt different and needed in this modern environment so keen on doing so with many other male superheroes. Onto the negatives, which are plentiful. Overall, I think that Venom is not an utterly horrible and irredeemable movie. But it is nothing if not uninspired, unoriginal, and bland. First off, Brock’s origin story becoming Venom lacks any engaging beats (besides the grim, whacky humor that defines his relationship with Venom) which is never bolstered by nor supplemented with a compelling villain performance from Ahmed. If anything, I would have loved to see a Willem Dafoe-esque performance for Ahmed’s character to at least add some charming camp to the mix of this movie. Instead, he plays it aggressively straight so as to avoid being anything more than a piece of emotional cardboard whenever he’s on screen. Venom is also a prime example of relying far too much on fight scenes dripping with CGI. Obviously, this is needed to an extent when showing a fight between two non-existent alien slime monsters but a more creative and inspired approach to this story would have done unexpected things to make the action more fun and interesting to watch. Alas, we never really get that here. Finally, in terms of its central character and protagonist, Hardy’s Brock lacks any semblance of charm or likeability so as to make him an endearing anti-hero. Rather, he’s a washed-up, incompetent failure of a journalist and relationship partner that I never was rooting for in the film. But maybe I’m being too harsh, and Venom actually is the masterpiece that some people claim it is. How does the sequel fare? Does Venom: Let There Be Carnage justify Sony’s attempt at a Spider-Man cinematic universe without Spider-Man? Before I get to that, I want to first talk about a good Sony Spider-Man movie. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) I recall walking out of the theater nearly three years ago after seeing Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse and knowing that I liked it. But I thought very little about it again until a couple of months ago when I decided to rewatch it for this blog. While I enjoyed the movie in the theater, I did not necessarily believe it to be the true masterpiece that many people thought it was. So, have my opinions of Into the Spider-Verse changed with a rewatch? In some ways, yes. Having developed a keener appreciation for the visual art of film animation (from impressive Japanese anime like Only Yesterday and Your Name to breathtaking CG animation like Finding Nemo and How to Train Your Dragon), I did come away this time really loving how Into the Spider-Verse serves up a truly one-of-a-kind style of animation. Not only is it a stunning visual feast (albeit a bit of sensory overload at times), but it succeeds at putting the style of comic book illustrating to the big screen in a way that no other movie that I’ve seen has done and may never will (at least for the foreseeable future). In terms of its story, Into the Spider-Verse may not be the most revolutionary origin story but certainly stands toe to toe with the number of great superhero origin movies made in the last decade plus. It is certainly original in that it uses the premise of a multiverse with other Spider-People to show smart yet reluctantly brave Miles Morales (Shameik Moore) what it means to be a hero. Of course, the standout Spidey mentors are the lonely sad sap Peter B. Parker (Jake Johnson) and the kick-ass, empathetic web slinger Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld) whose experience and youth, respectively, balance out well to offer Miles two compelling versions of the kind of hero he could become (and a taste of what to avoid later in life, in the case of Peter B. Parker’s hilarious apathy). Unlike most of the other Spider-Man movies that Sony has given us, Into the Spider-Verse grounds Miles’s burgeoning superhero life with the presence of his family who serve to either inspire him or challenge him. On this second viewing, I particularly enjoyed Miles’s dad Jefferson Davis (Brian Tyree Henry) reaching out to Miles in the wake of his uncle’s death and the morally complex dynamic between Miles as an emerging hero and his Uncle Aaron (Mahershala Ali) as the Prowler. For Miles, seeing these two very different yet equally important father figures take different paths and have different outlooks on life was really effective at making his choice to be a hero both convincing and a great bouncing-off point. At the end of the day, I think that my favorite element of Into the Spider-Verse was how the filmmakers knew what they were doing and the time and place they were in. By 2018, so many moviegoers are intimately familiar with the basic structure of a superhero origin story on film and have it seen it done expertly, competently, and poorly many times over. So, instead of do that exact same template again with Miles, they subvert our expectations. Not only do they acknowledge how smart their audience is in the first five minutes by making fun of other takes on Spidey’s movie origins (notably the Raimi trilogy), but they introduce these whacky variants of it like Penny Parker (Kimiko Glenn), Peter Porker/Spider-Ham (John Mulaney), and Spider-Man Noir (Nicolas Cage) to go all-out insane with how the Spider-Man character can be done in fun ways that we haven’t seen before. All that being said, I understand why many fans of the character and of comic book movies in general hold up Into the Spider-Verse as one of the greatest comic book movies ever made. In terms of its cinematography and visual style, I wholeheartedly agree. In terms of its story and characters…let’s just say I like the movie. But I don’t love it. In fairness, I can’t quite put the words why this film doesn’t hit with me in the way it does for others. I respect what it’s doing for the genre and have fun with it every time I watch it, but there’s something about the sum of its parts that leave me expecting something more that I can describe as pure, undeniable greatness. Venom: Let There Be Carnage (2021) [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “Venom: Let There Be Carnage.” You have been warned.] Going into the movie theater to watch Venom: Let There Be Carnage, I was hopeful that director Andy Serkis and star Tom Hardy would double down on the off-beat “bromance” between Eddie Brock and his symbiote, improve the action set pieces, and rid themselves of the rest of the poorly-executed trash from its predecessor. And while it mostly did that, it also had some other problems that keeps it from surpassing Sony’s other Marvel movies that are now nearly two decades old. Regarding Eddie’s “bromance” with Venom, much of it worked for me in this movie. In many ways, Hardy’s fairly impressive performance playing off his own disembodied voice keeps the first act moving pretty well. And their “break-up” scene is ridiculous enough to be amusing and enjoyable (even though their third-act reunion feels rushed and forced just to get the two of them to the final action sequence). Without question for me, the other star of this film besides Hardy is Woody Harrelson as Cletus Kasady/Carnage. Is his characterization well-written or well-executed in this movie? Not at all. But Harrelson does his damnedest to distract me from thinking about the piss-poor writing behind his demented serial-killer character by having a blast mocking Eddie Brock from behind a jail cell, breaking out his psychotic lover Frances/Shriek (Naomie Harris), and joy-riding around San Francisco while running from the police and FBI. Easily for me, however, the standout scene of this ultimately mediocre film was the full-on introduction of our villainous symbiote Carnage. During Kasady’s execution scene, he holds nothing back to help him break out of San Quentin while murdering as many prison guards (and causing as much chaos) as humanly possible…off-screen. Which gets to one of my major issues with Venom: Let There Be Carnage: its PG-13 rating. For some reason, I didn’t care as much about this in the 2018 Venom movie, but it felt much more noticeable here due to the nature of Kasady’s character and Carnage’s love of murder sprees. There were just too many times where Serkis cut away from Carnage right before he bites someone’s head off or rips someone apart. It felt cheap, and I wanted Sony to differentiate themselves from Marvel Studios by committing to a more serious, violent aesthetic but they did not. My more minor critiques of Venom: Let There Be Carnage have to do with the movie’s unbalanced tone and its supporting characters. Regarding the latter, Eddie’s subplot involving him trying to make amends with his ex-fiancée Anne (Michelle Williams) treads too much familiar ground from the 2018 film and feels just unnecessary in this specific movie. I also feel so bad for Naomie Harris because she deserved better treatment as Tia Dalma in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies and certainly deserves better in this movie. But her side-villain status lacks justification to be there. Regarding the former, while Venom and Eddie’s dynamic carried this movie’s first act the consequences of their “break-up” in the second act is some of the worst examples of this rom-com trope wherein the two characters spend time alone to help them realize that they need each other. While I won’t delve too deep into this, all I’ll say is watching Venom give an inspirational speech at an underground rave is far too cringe to be funny or entertaining in any way, shape, or form. The last thing I want to say about Venom: Let There Be Carnage is MAJOR SPOILERS regarding the post-credits scene. STOP NOW IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW. … After reflecting on the reveal of Eddie/Venom being transported to the Marvel Cinematic Universe on the drive home, I’ve decided that I have enough faith in Kevin Feige and his creative team to integrate Hardy’s absurd take on the character into the world of Tom Holland’s Spider-Man well enough. However, I fear this is a sign that Sony has gained too much power due to their ownership of Spidey’s film rights to the point that this Venom’s presence in New York City post-Avengers: Endgame will inevitably taint Holland’s very special corner of a fantastic film franchise. But, I suppose only time will tell. … So, when it comes to movies featuring Marvel’s various web-crawlers, my favorite remains Spider-Man Homecoming for reasons that I have addressed before and will address in the near future (CAN’T WAIT for Spider-Man: No Way Home!!). Simply put, the Raimi movies are anachronistic, the Webb movies are disjointed, the Venom films are bland and boring, and Into the Spider-Verse is very good but lacks the emotional punch that better superhero films give me. Will Sony put something forward outside of their collaborations with Marvel Studios that will top Homecoming for me? I doubt it, but I would love my faith in this studio’s mixed bag of a cinematic universe to be restored someday. With all that being said, here is my ranking of Sony’s Spider-Man films:
What are your thoughts on Sony’s Spider-Man films? Who is your preferred Spider-Man? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst |
Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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