Despite being an rabid comic book nerd most of my life, Spider-Man is sorely lacking in representation in my collection. The character never truly appealed to me, and I've never been able to pinpoint why. Perhaps like Barry Allen Flash or Hal Jordan Green Lantern, Peter Parker Spider-Man is just that dull, square slice of American whitebread that the 1960's seemed to churn out in its entertainment. His rogues gallery and adjacent heroes like Spider-Woman have appealed to me far more than Peter Parker ever did.
I found myself avidly reading the adventures of Miles Morales when he emerged on the scene in 2012, even though as a character he's not all that different from Peter Parker, ethnicity aside: he's a glib, fast-talking teen with a science acumen, supreme agility and spider powers. But he's just different enough, his story is not the same regurgitated "with great power" pablum that we've seen for 50 years, and his ethnicity does matter in making a difference and informing who Miles is. On top of it, Miles' story as Spider-Man is one of a hero continuing a legacy, which is one of my absolute favourite things in superhero stories.
This film introduces a much larger audience to Miles, adapting to a new elite private school which he landed thanks to a scholarship. Suddenly developing spider-powers plays into the notion of pubescent anxiety not helping the situation. Already feeling the outsider and a bit of a weirdo, Miles' abilities seem an absolute burden. Miles also has a difficult relationship with his father, a police officer disapproving of Miles' aptitude for street art, but a much more congenial one with his uncle (otherwise estranged from the family).
When Peter Parker is killed stopping the Kingpin from opening a bridge to the multiverse, Miles feels a pull to use his talents in tribute. Kingpin's experiment, however created a crisis of its own, plucking an older, glummer Peter Parker from another dimension into Miles' life, serving as a reluctant mentor.
Not only does the film open this concept of multiple iterations of a character, and the differing realities they live in, it brings in a few other surprising players in the Spider-pantheon that could possibly stretch credibility with a larger audience. Spider-Man Noir is always illustrated in black and white, Peni Parker and her pet SP//DR robot are both anime inspired, and Spider-Ham is a Looney Toons-styled cartoon pig in a Spider-Man costume. If the film wasn't completely willing to lean into the oddness of it, it would be hard to buy into.
While the idea of the multiverse has been something prevalent in comics for decades, it is still something mass audiences have only been recently exposed to. Most of the time, it's alternate timelines, or when Star Trek did it, evil mirror universes... a very binary version of the multiverse conceit. Not only does Into The Spider-Verse dive head-first into presenting multiple realities, and multiple iterations of Spider-Man, but it does so without any hand-holding. It assumes that the audience is savvy enough to keep up, and it goes for the hard sell on with its bizarreness and absurdity.
Produced by Phil Lord and Chris Miller (with Lord co-writing the script with Rodney Rothman), it makes sense. This is a duo that knows how to play with cliches and storytelling tropes for comedic (and sometimes dramatic) effect without undercutting the characters or story they're telling. The Jump Street movies, the Lego Movie, Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs are all excellent examples of Lord and Miller's ability to make something fantastic out of what seems otherwise impossibly complex, dumb, or just a bad idea. With them it's not just about making fun of something like a Scary Movie would, it's about appreciating what the joke is about, and letting the audience in on both the appreciation and the humour. Their comedy comes from reverence, not mockery.
Beyond just humour, with Into the Spider-Verse, Lord and Miller seemed concerned with artistry. The visual design of the film is absolutely stunning, paying homage to multiple animation styles from the past, while also developing techniques absolutely unique to it. The film also captures multiple artistic styles, replicating the comic-book artist who have put their stamp on Miles, Spider-Gwen and others. They also employ zip-a-tone effect replicating the coloring style of comics pre-1970's, and when the multiverse gate starts impacting and fracturing the reality of the film, there's the jaggedness of digital disruption, like a scratched DVD or faulty video game.
With an amazing cast, a killer soundtrack, some big laughs and even a few tears, the film really is an amazing ride. It's the type of bold experiment that superheroes in film really needs to stave off the perceived fatigue. If the film falters at all, its in the fact that we don't have enough time with all the variant Spider-people. They're barely there as characters, but so intriguing we want to know more. As well, Miles' transition from reluctant to completely capable in the third act was pretty abrupt (but quite typical of superhero films). This film could have worked so much better, storytelling-wise, as a TV miniseries, but likely at the expense of the breathtaking animation. I don't think it'd be a worthwhile trade-off in the end.
