MOVIE REVIEW: Spider-Man 3 - The Latest Installment in the Formulaic yet Enjoyable Superhero Series

By Brian Abrams

For a larger-than-life adaptation based on Marvel comic book characters, Spider-Man 3 isn’t bad, necessarily; it’s just a bit much.

The most common problem among these blockbuster superhero series is that, by the third installment, the screenwriters have painted themselves in a corner. Tim Burton’s Batman movies held strong through the first two titles (the convincing back-stories of The Joker, The Penguin, and Catwoman were pretty sweet, let’s admit), but, by the time actors like Jim Carrey and Arnold Schwarzenegger slapped on some costumes, the whole Gotham City vibe wore off. The series went from sexy to silly after just two titles.

Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man films haven’t gone as wayward as the former caped crusader’s flicks, but they might be headed in that direction. Really, how many more heavies can the scribes extract from Stan Lee’s vintage comics? How many different ways can Spidey swoop across the Manhattan skyline? And, how, how much longer must we watch his damsel-always-in-distress Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst) kick and scream and cry for help? By now she should either be in therapy or go shopping for a vigilante costume of her own.

At 139 minutes, Spider-Man 3 doesn’t deal with anything epic – only more of what the previous two flicks have shown. Like in the last two movies, Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) struggles with a post-adolescent identity crisis, the death of his Uncle Ben, saving New York City from a gaggle of baddies, and an exhausting love triangle between M.J., his pal Harry Osborn (James Franco), and himself.

Only this time, instead of the dastardly doers being Harry’s deranged dad (Willem Dafoe’s Green Goblin) or Peter’s much admired physics professor Otto Octavius (Alfred Molina’s Dr. Octopus), we get a pair of more random villains, but ones that, as the screenwriters would have it, have yet another personal connection to our web-slinging friend.

SM3 introduces us to Flint Marko (Thomas Haden Church), the prison escapee charged for shooting and killing Uncle Ben, and to Eddie Brock, a manipulative freelance photographer who gives Peter a run for his money at The Daily Bugle for an upcoming staff position. Both conmen, of course, eventually find themselves in scenarios where biology and the supernatural get the best of them – Marko, running interference with some scientific experiment that changes him into the Sandman; Brock, getting some mysterious goo on his shoe that turns the little prick into Venom.

Witnessing the tragic geneses of these characters isn’t anything new. Green Goblin and Dr. Octopus were no saints, either, and they, too, inherited superpowers through the miracle of science (and rather sloppy science experiments). And, of course, Sandman and Venom fuck with Peter’s life, his girlfriend, his reputation as a superhero, you get the picture: cookie-cutter cinema, folks.

We can take comfort in that fact, though. SM3 may not have as much originality as, say, Batman Returns, The Empire Strikes Back, or any other outstanding sequel, but it promises to give you more of the same. Take it as a negative or positive, I suppose, depending on how well you enjoyed the previous two. Myself, I think the Spidey trilogy is good, old-fashioned brainless fun. But six hours’ worth is more than an overdose.