Spider-Man, the 2002 film based on characters created by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko, and directed by Sam Raimi, is about the pains of growing up in terms of both chronological age and general maturity. In telling the tale of a young man named Peter Parker who must decide what type of life he will lead given an extraordinary set of powers, the story depicts universal struggles in an unconventional manner. What results is an exciting morsel of escapist cinema that audience members of all ages can enjoy—and at roughly equal levels of cognition.
Near the beginning of Spider-Man, Peter Parker is at a science museum on a field trip with his fellow senior classmates. After his best friend, Harry Osborn, boldly strikes up a conversation with his longtime crush and next-door neighbor Mary Jane Watson, Peter is inspired to make a similar move. It is at this point that Mary Jane finally directly acknowledges his existence, as he takes picture after picture of her posing nearby an exhibit of experimental genetically modified spiders. By no coincidence, Peter is bitten on the hand by a spider of just this type as his encounter with the object of his infatuation comes to an end. Although he has presumably been experiencing—or perhaps already experienced puberty in years prior, most of the effects of the spider bite are conspicuously similar to those found in pubescent males. While enhanced vision and growth of hair on one's fingertips are certainly not recorded in medical texts, drastic changes in muscular and overall body tone (not to mention growth of hair in other previously hairless portions of the body) are trademarks of adolescence, and Peter's reaction as he admires his brawny physique and impressive abdominals in the mirror is an obvious indicator that these are not attributes that he is accustomed to.
The allegorization of Peter's transformation into Spider-Man as the transformation every male experiences as he reaches sexual maturity is further substantiated by the nearly subtle reference to penile growth when he tells his Aunt May that there is a “big change” in how he feels compared to the day before, while peering directly down at the affected area. Indubitably the least subdued physical change effected by the spider bite is Peter's ability to sling web. While it may seem juvenile to relate the sticky, white material that he can spray at will using his hands to the similarly viscous, opaque fluid produced by a young male who is experimenting with a newfound power (and using the same tools to do so), it is absolutely appropriate when framing his transformation into Spider-Man as an allegory for puberty. One scene in particular supports this: Peter is practicing his web-shooting aim in his room, accidentally flinging the matter all over his bedroom and loudly damaging several possessions, when Aunt May arrives outside his door and inquires with regard to the source of the all the noise. As if this rather glaring masturbation reference does not suffice, Peter's Uncle Ben comments shortly thereafter about how he is a teenager with “raging hormones.” The purpose of that statement is twofold: first, it creates humor, by presenting the irony of Uncle Ben's belief that Peter really is experiencing puberty; and, second, it encourages the viewer to not only consider but also give credence to above mentioned analogy.
However, an immensely profound difference between puberty and the transformation that Peter Parker experiences is that the former necessarily brings one into the world of adulthood in society, while the latter brings one to the point of decision—obviously one that but a small percentage of people in the real world actually faces: what to do when one stumbles upon an unprecedented amount of power. Uncle Ben famously utters the aphorism, “With great power comes great responsibility,” but its initial appearance is preceded by an arguably more poignant statement: “These are the years when a man changes into the man he is going to become the rest of his life; just be careful who you change into.” Perhaps this sentiment may have been a bit more effective had it been delivered to Peter a few hours prior, but because he is already annoyed by his uncle's sudden propensity for prying into his personal life, he disregards it and shuts the old man down.
The significance of the phrase lies in Peter's character development and motivations, as well as a major theme of the film as a whole. Shortly after Peter gains his superpowers, he has a heartfelt conversation with Mary Jane in their respective backyards—a conversation which concludes only when her boyfriend pulls up outside of her house in his new, expensive car. Thus arrives Peter's first opportunity to intentionally use his abilities for personal gain. He decides he will try his luck in an amateur wrestling ring to raise funds for the purchase of a nice car of his own. After the wrestling promoter refuses to pay more than a fraction of his due prize money, Peter purposefully allows a robber to escape with said promoter's cash, and glibly dismisses him in what seems to be an attempt to enforce karma. It is not until this robber fatally wounds Uncle Ben while carjacking him that the levity of Ben's aforementioned expression comes to fruition. At this point, Peter decides that he will use his powers for the purposes of fighting crime and the promotion of general goodness in the world.
While other films might assume the notion that the universe is cruel and random, which is perpetuated by incredible and unfortunate coincidences such as having the opportunity prevent both a small crime and the loss of a dearly loved father figure and missing it completely, Spider-Man takes a decidedly more optimistic route. Peter Parker does not want to become an adult, because most of the adults (particularly those who are middle-aged) in his world are horrible, or, at the very least, unlikeable people: Norman Osborn; the man who murdered Uncle Ben; the wrestling promoter; Mr. Jameson, the editor of The Daily Bugle, and so on. His foray into normal adulthood resulted in the death of his uncle and an accompanying incredible sense of guilt and regret, so he opts for the life of a hero. What makes Spider-Man such a fantastical film is that Peter's boyishly idealistic belief that he can effect substantial positive change in the world is entirely affirmed by his overcoming the initially negative public response to his vigilantism after saving numerous innocent civilians and the woman of his dreams, and, most importantly, his defeat of his nemesis, the Green Goblin. The fact that most of the last half-dozen or so Illinois governors have been or still are incarcerated is proof enough that the world in which Peter lives is rather remote from reality. Surely Spider-Man's unabating sense of duty and insatiable appetite for doing good make him more of a superhero than does his ability to sling web.
More important than the film's inherent lack of realism, though, is the effect of such a quixotic story on its audience. Spider-Man being the good-natured protagonist of the film automatically encourages attachment, as does use of point-of-view shots when Peter is taking photographs at the museum, just before he is bitten. Being incessantly bullied only to exact revenge upon his large and aggressively mean peers certainly encourages sympathy, and, though the previously mentioned motivation to act virtuously may repudiate his status as a mature adult, it also makes him extremely likeable. The list of positive attributes goes on and on, because Peter is an entirely good character. In the same regard, most of the characters in Spider-Man avoid any and all ambivalence as they are each either wholly good or wholly bad. This setup of numerous binary oppositions makes for straightforward character attachment as well as simplistic and predictable conflicts, the most dominant of which are intergenerational.
Three disparate groups are represented in Spider-Man: young adults of questionable maturity, evil middle-aged adults, and sage senior citizens. Peter and his friends and peers of course comprise the first group: they are all intrinsically good people who possess some degree of naïveté and ignorance. Even the massive guys who torment Peter and Harry seem to be doing so mostly out of immaturity rather than out of hatred, let alone out of sheer evil. Greatly separated from the young adults by age but tied closely in virtue are the sage senior citizens. Aunt May and Uncle Ben are model examples, with May's saccharine sentimentalism, and Ben's bountiful maxims. This group is also embodied by Norman Osborn's older associate who vocally doubts Norman's ethics and scientific integrity and is murdered as a result.
Aunt May and Uncle Ben find themselves in similar conflicts with Norman Osborn—who personifies the group of evil middle-aged adults, along with the man who murders Ben, the wrestling promoter, Mary Jane's father, and Mr. Jameson, among others. Early in the film, Uncle Ben laments his unemployment and the dominance of computer-related job opportunities for which he is unqualified, which is contrasted by Norman Osborn, who works on the cutting edge of technological and scientific developments. Though they never directly influence each other, the world seems more apt for the success of a Norman Osborn than that of an Uncle Ben, as indicated by the early (in regard to the narrative) demise of the latter.
Aunt May, on the other hand, has a much more direct, physical, and prolonged confrontation with Norman. The Thanksgiving dinner scene (or, at least, the several minutes leading up to the actual dinner) late in the film in which Peter, Mary Jane, Harry, Norman, and Aunt May come together is important on multiple levels. Not only is Peter nearly spotted in his Spider-Man get-up by the others, but Norman's suspicions of his double identity arise and then crest as he is moved to leave the dinner table after a gash in Peter's arm confirms it. This gives Norman an enormous upper hand in gaining leverage with Spider-Man because he knows how to, as he himself puts it, “Attack the heart.” Norman's abrupt departure also results in a confrontation between him and Harry and, in turn, between Harry and Mary Jane, which permanently damages their relationship.
The most foreboding element of the scene, however, is the tension between Aunt May and Norman. Norman's descent into madness, seemingly dictated by the Green Goblin mask, has slowly stripped away his social skills, as earlier evinced by the creepy looks he directs toward Mary Jane. This culminates in Norman sticking his index finger into a dish of food before grace is said, for which he is reprimanded by Aunt May. The tension between the two is heavily emphasized by the editing and the soundtrack in this sequence; brisk shot reverse shot of their respective faces, staring each other down, all over a low, unsettling tone that confirms in the minds of the audience members that the two will certainly meet again in the near future.
And meet again they do: with his new knowledge of the identity of Spider-Man, Norman attempts to manipulate him by attacking Aunt May. It just so happens that she is kneeling at her bed, praying the Our Father when he bursts through her window. In a manner highly reminiscent of the first instance of conflict between the two, Norman points at Aunt May and forces her to shout the final line of the prayer, “And deliver us from evil” while she is essentially staring evil in the face. Aunt May manages to survive her encounter with Norman and, though she is hospitalized for some time afterward, she ultimately outlasts Norman, as Spider-Man takes care of him in the end, yet again depicting the miraculous triumph of good over evil.
The commercial success of Sam Raimi's Spider-Man in 2002 was both unprecedented and unsurprising. After all, it has massive appeal: famous and attractive actors and actresses, impressive special effects, the portrayal of a common struggle told in a unique way, a happy ending, and the championing of childhood starry-eyed wonderment. It may seem odd that adults would pay money to see themselves demonized at 24 frames-per-second, but the fact that they do just that, time and time again, perhaps legitimizes the tendency of the Hollywood blockbuster to treat them like children.
