Finding something to say that hasn’t already been said about Sam Raimi’s trilogy of Spider-Man movies. They’re early 2000’s cultural juggernauts with three spirits each their own that still have a collective chokehold on the entertainment industry and general moviegoing society as we know it. What Raimi did for superhero cinema with these films is evidenced in their continued influence on the genre today, and instead of trying to pick each of them apart, I’m going to try and hone in on four specific elements that play a big part in making them so special. Three for the three movies, and the fourth for the fourquel that tragically never got made. Let’s get in the swing of things.
Peter Parker
The Spider-Man stuff in these movies is great, without a doubt. The suit is fantastic, Raimi’s action is insatiable, and there are legendary, continuously relevant quips around every corner. But where these films really stand out is in their iteration of Peter Parker. From the opening moments of the first film wherein he’s chasing behind the school bus, square glasses and a meek expression planted firmly on his face, the aura is unmistakable: that’s Peter Parker, exactly as you’ve come to know him in the comics.
Tobey Maguire is the key, and Raimi’s cheekier sensibilities are the heart, which the film wears firmly on its sleeve. Throughout the trilogy, whether on a winning streak or an absolute slide (of which there are many) Peter bares all. My mind goes to his vomiting awkward poetry to Mary Jane in Spider-Man 2, as well as any given scene with Aunt May post-Ben’s death. Maguire and Rosemary Harris give such grounded, intricate performances in those moments. They’re arguably some of the best scenes in the trilogy.
I’m equally impressed by Raimi’s commitment to the inevitability of inconsistency in Peter’s life, and to an unusually harsh extent. He benefits from no main character leniency or plot armor here; in every movie, Peter loses something, somebody, or both. The way this trauma ends up impacting his ability as Spider-Man, too, is a wonderful way to illustrate his imbalance and the impossibility of him having his cake and eating it too. These movies are all about consequences, and Peter Parker is at the core of every development. It’s what makes the films feel grounded, and still remains the best adaptation of that aspect of the character even now.
Mary Jane
When it comes to consequence, Mary Jane is the embodiment of Peter’s effects on the humans in his life. She isn’t a perfect person in these films, far from it, but she suffers constantly at the right hand of Peter’s failure. Spider-Man 2 pushing past Spider-Man in the final shot and ending on a close-up of her forlorn expression, moments after she walked away from her wedding for the man who just swung out of the window, is of the wonderfully daring sort of decisions that the genre is basically void of today.
Her entanglement in the lives of so many surrounding Peter, even when the two of them aren’t together, adds to the constant uncertainty that their relationship exudes. Spider-Man 3 is spent almost in-full tearing them apart before the ambiguous ending suggests that they may climb the mountain hand-in-hand after all. Aside from that film, and specifically that arc, feeling like a metaphor for Raimi’s relationship with these films and the studioheads behind them, those final moments encapsulate not only what makes Peter and MJ’s relationship so compelling, but why she’s such a pivotal character to this series. Whether most would like to admit it or not, she’s a vital piece of the puzzle. Oh, and Kirsten Dunst is great through it all, of course. She sells MJ’s layers with no issue and serves her own fair share of memorable deliveries as well.
The Villains
In the same way that I’ve structured my thoughts on the trilogy here, I’ll consider the villains a conglomerate of sorts rather than one-by-one. The iconography of this category is certainly biased to metal aesthetics and sequences of brash momentum, but a great deal of the value is found in the smaller stuff. Green Goblin’s rooftop conversation with Peter in Spider-Man is one of the best bits in that movie, and it all comes down to the distinct dialogue and a rightfully revered performance from Dafoe.
The idea that Green Goblin and Spider-Man aren’t so different after all clashes wildly with Norman, for example, threatening to drop either Mary Jane or a tram full of children to one or the other of their respective deaths… yet in the moment, you may hear him out more than you’d like to admit. In his hubris, Norman assumes that Spider-Man has more on his mind than an unadulterated desire (responsibility) to help people, and in the end, he dies as a result of that oversight.
Dafoe’s Goblin remains a villainous pillar for the genre, but Alfred Molina’s Otto Octavius and even Thomas Haden Church’s Sandman (honorable mention to Topher Grace’s Eddie Brock for those willing to go to back for his admittedly charming cheesiness) stack up well in the bigger picture. The former is a larger than life, wannabe world-changer, and the latter the smaller size of a broken father desperate to see his sick daughter. These are real, human archetypes in the form of seething, slapstick antagonists that Sam Raimi had a truly special grasp on. They, too, stick out like neon billboards on a dirt road in the genre as it stands today.
New York
This one is weird, yet surely as special as the previous three points. Raimi’s New York is a full character, defined by street-level heroism and unforgettable interactions. Think back to the bridge full of citizens throwing whatever they could find at Goblin in Spider-Man, to the sidewalk violinist singing her pitchy variation of the Spidey cartoon theme song, or any one of the recurring cutaways to random people shouting cheers of support at Spider-Man as he swings off to fight whatever threat ails the city at that time. Raimi always takes time to drop down from a skyscraper and get the perspective of someone watching it all go down; this works for laughs, absolutely, but it also makes his New York feel like an iteration of the place that could actually exist, even considering the extrapolated, goofier mannerisms of most involved.
I hate to contribute to the overuse of an expression, but it just feels so utterly “lived-in.” Getting a sense of the people that Peter is fighting for, the folks that he flies past and overhears on a daily basis, adds so much to the stakes during the action sequences, especially when citizens get involved. If that isn’t enough, you can always go back to the end of the train fight in Spider-Man 2 and witness New Yorkers of all stripes come to an immediate agreement to keep Peter’s identity a secret after he was unmasked in the process of saving their lives. An eye for an eye, a heart for a heart. A perfect moment in a perfect movie, and the epitome of Raimi’s personification of New York.
I hope to have contributed something to the undying discussion surrounding Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy with all of this; if spilling my nerdy heart out onto the page in 1,000 words means anything, then perhaps this will count for something. With all three of the films having just circulated in and out of theaters once more, it’s great to see them ushered back into mainstream relevancy. Maybe the recent push in exposure and revenue will remind the people in charge that there is still an active audience for this series and they’ll ring Raimi to give him a real shot at that fourquel, after all. One can only dream.
Movies, long drives, and mint chocolate chip ice cream.
