[9.3/10] A few years ago, for some strange reason, I decided to watch every Spider-Man animated series from the 1990s. The different shows had different takes on the wall-crawler, plopping him into very distinct settings and scenarios. But I realized there were two main things about Peter Parker that united the various versions of the character across years and franchises: (1.) he chooses to do good, even when it’s difficult, because it’s the right thing to do, and (2.) he suffers for his art.
*Spider-Man: No Way Home* strives to encompass *a lot*. It is the culmination of the Jon Watts/Tom Holland version of Peter Parker and the journey through his high school years that began in *Homecoming*. It has to service broader MCU connections to Doctor Strange and Captain America. It finds grace notes and meaningful moments for M.J., Ned, Happy, Flash, Aunt May, and a host of other characters who’ve been major parts of the series. And if that weren’t enough, it brings back five villains, two heroes, one conspiratorial agitator, and scads of loose threads from the five movies that preceded this Peter’s arrival.
And yet, what makes it work, what gives *No Way Home* a clarity and a balance other mondo Spider-Man movies missed, is the way it’s built around those twin ideas, those dual core facets of the character. Despite the multiversal stakes, Spider-Man strives to live up to the values instilled in him by the people he loves, even when it’s the absolute hardest thing to do so. And endures tremendous losses, makes grand personal sacrifices, in the name of looking out for everyone but himself. It’s what bolsters this Spider-Man, and all Spider-Men, and elevates this film into one of Spidey’s very best.
It helps that what starts these multiversal problems is something smaller and personal. So much of the MCU’s Spider-Man is about this overwhelmed, undermanned kid standing in the face of grandiose events. Spider-Man trips the time-space continuum not from battling interdimensional beings or from going up against titans with reality-warping powers. Instead, he’s upset that being associated with him kept his best friends from getting into college, that they were taken in and interrogated by law enforcement, that it blew up his aunt’s life. His exposure poisoned the well for everyone around him, and he effectively asks for a wish to undo it, not for himself, but for those he cares about.
It’s a strong setup. *No Way Home* takes seriously the unmasking from the last movie, and the impact it would have on Peter’s life and those of friends. It puts this comparatively charmed version of Spider-Man into the familiar guises of his counterparts. He is broke. He is embattled. He is concerned he’s a burden and a threat to those he loves. He no longer has Iron Man, or S.H.I.E.L.D., or the other tech resources to fall back on. Half the world believes in him, but the other half, spurred by J. Jonah Jameson, thinks he’s the traditional “menace.” Exposure has ruined his life and forced him to grapple with the sort of problems so many other Spider-Men (Spiders-Man? Spider-Mans? Homines Aranearum?) have faced over the years.
So he goes to Doctor Strange for help. The dynamic between Peter and Stephen/Sir is a low-key strength of the film. It completes Sony’s presumably bargained-for requirement that at least one major MCU star have a substantial supporting role in each Web-Head film. (See also: Robert Downey Jr., Samuel L. Jackson, Martin Starr.) It provides a reasonable in-universe excuse for a non-magical, mostly street level hero to play around with parallel dimensions. And it builds on the shared experiences Spidey and Strange had in *Infinity War*. There’s antagonism between them, but also a budding mutual appreciation which pays off in unexpected ways.
When Doctor Strange tries to help Peter, though, things go awry. Peter asks that the world forget he’s Spider-Man, only he keeps trying to add exceptions for the people he wants to stay in the know. The complications disrupt the magicks involved, and while Strange is able to contain the botched spell, it manages to accidentally draw in Spidey’s foes from other corners of the multiverse, a tantalizing setup for fans who’ve been watching the wall-crawler in action since 2002.
That’s right! Dr. Octopus, The Green Goblin, The Lizard, Sandman, and Electro all pop into the MCU after the events of the original Sam Raimi trilogy and Marc Webb’s *Amazing Spider-Man* duology. It is an absolute treat for fans who’ve followed the Web-Head’s cinematic trials and travails over the years. None of the performers has lost a step (and many manage to improve on their original outings). And watching them interact with each other, not to mention a different hero than “their” Peter, has all the crossover glee that comic book stories can deliver. Peter, for his part, is tasked by Strange with rounding them up so they can be returned to their proper universes.
Their interactions are hilarious. The baddies poke fun at one another and the eccentricities of their different stories and universes. At one point the film turns them into the world’s wildest sitcom, with four supervillains and a host of their helpers playing temporary roommates in a bachelor pad. As in all of the Watts films, the banter here is consistently on point. And even as the film loses a bit of its momentum in its “Four Men and a Spidey” section, watching Peter go back and forth with this collection of villains, while they spark off one another, is still a consistent treat.
There’s a catch though. Peter soon discovers that each of these baddies was pulled from their timelines right before they were about to perish, so sending them back is a death sentence. Dr. Strange is unmoved, but Aunt May pushes her nephew and surrogate son to give them the help they need. When push comes to shove, Peter can’t sit idly by and send these men to their dooms, even if it means another cool psychedelic, fractal-based fight with “Stephen” to get the time and space to try to heal them.
I love that twist so much. The only thing cooler than Spider-Man fighting a multi-dimensional version of the Sinister SIx is Spider-Man trying to *save* each of these villains who came to bad ends in each of the films that spawned it. It’s true to the spirit of the character, understanding his responsibility not just to protect the city or stop evil, but to try to show compassion and decency to those who need it. It’s a wonderful affirmation of the values that have undergirded Spider-Man from the beginning, with a challenge that cannot be encompassed by a simple smash-fest, but requires more altruistic motives, unique strategies, and psychological challenges for Peter.
It’s just as wonderful that the push toward kindness, the warning against “not my responsibility” thinking from Peter, comes from his Aunt May. Peter tries so hard to help these people, even though there’s an easy way out, because of her encouragement. And it comes at the cost of her life.
The most brutal gut punch in the film comes when the avuncular, seemingly reformed Norman Osborn turns out to have been plotting and scheming the whole time. At the moment of truth, he reveals his true intentions, powers up, and goes on the attack. It’s a hell of a turn, sold by Willem Dafoe’s convincing performance as a penitent Norman to that point. Even though the ensuing super-fight between him and Spider-Man is a fairly generic building-buster, the threat to Aunt May, and her eventual death at the Goblin’s hands, gives it a greater force.
In that, the sharpest choice in all of *No Way Home* turns out to be making Aunt May into Uncle Ben. The MCU spider-flicks have conspicuously avoided Peter’s overplayed origin story to this point. No scenes of spider bites. No uncle’s dying words. Nothing more than initials on a suitcase to suggest that traditional part of the character’s mythos is even a factor in this universe.
In one fell swoop, *No Way Home* fills in that gap with flying colors. We know Marissa Tomei’s Aunt May. We’ve watched her guide and care for Peter through two films. So when she’s the one who urges him to do good even when you’re inclined to look the other way, when she’s the one who tells him that with great power comes responsibility, when she’s the one who dies because of her nephew’s choices, it has more meaning and wounding force than any other cinematic depiction of Peter losing his mentor and inspiration. A smart, almost clockwork choice, brings this Spider-Man in line with his predecessors in devastating fashion.
It also speaks to the smart construction of *No Way Home*’s script, penned by Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers. Spider-Man reaches his lowest point, as all heroes seemingly must at the two-thirds mark of their movies. He’s tried his best, to help his friends, to save the bad guys, to put everything on the line for the greater good. And he not only failed but lost the most important person in the world to him in the process.
So who can lift from this funk, who can give him the wisdom and insight to go on? Two other Spider-Men, of course! McKenna and Sommers smartly make most of *No Way Home* a story that belongs to the MCU’s Peter. Sure, we get the dimension-crossing villains in play, and references to past adventures, but they’re all *this* Peter’s responsibility and cross to bear for most of the runtime. Only when he needs them most do the Web-Heads played by Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire show up.
And they are utterly fantastic! The script smartly introduces them apart from our Peter, giving the audiences a chance to reorient themselves to the characters and have a few laughs. There’s such cheer-worthy moments when each arrives, and such hilarious interactions when M.J. and Ned try to figure out what’s happening and each Spider-Man tries to prove they are who they say they are, to Peter’s friends.
But when push comes to shove, they find this universe’s Spidey lost and ready to give up on the roof of his school. His friends give him comfort, but his alternate universe counterparts give him perspective. Tobey and Andrew (you’ll have to forgive the naming convention in the spirit of clarity) speak of their losses, of Uncle Ben and Gwen Stacey. They tell Tom how those deaths led them down the wrong path, to things they ended up regretting, and how they want better for him. It’s the sort of comfort only a fellow Spider-Man could provide, with resonant words that speak to truths that stretch across their experiences and lift each of them up out of darkness.
Herein lies *No Way Home*’s arguably greatest achievement. It would be so easy to do less than this. It would be so easy to have Maguire and Garfield simply swing in for a cameo, or just jump into the fray for the usual “save the world” reasons, and expect audiences to cheer based on recognition alone. But this film not only builds on the stories and character growth these figures have already experienced, but uses their histories to inspire, caution, and comfort the latest Spider-Man in his darkest hour.
It works! The pep-talk gives MCU Spidey the motivation he needs to keep trying. He, his friends, and his new arachnid allies all work together to cure the remaining villains, and it is absolutely delightful. The multi-Peter team-up provides something I didn’t know I needed. At one point, Garfield’s character says he always wanted brothers, and it’s the perfect way to describe the dynamic between the different Spider-Men. There’s a sweetness, an easy familiarity, a source of mutual support among that simply snaps into place. A Spider-Verse team-up could thrive on novelty alone, but these three Peter Parkers make sense together in a way I wasn’t expecting, but ends up being the most endearing part of the film.
It’s also the most hilarious. The rapport among the various Spidies is outstanding on its own, leading to a host of great lines. But the film also pokes fun at the differences and eccentricities of the different movies cross-pollinating. Holland and Garfield marvel at Maguire’s organic web-shooters. Ned blanches when he finds out the fate of another Peter’s best friend. A call to “Peter Parker” elicits three simultaneous responses. There’s even some delightful meta-gags, like when Garfield laments feeling like a lesser Spider-Man only to be reassured that he’s amazing, or Maguire once again complaining about his wall-crawling back pain. There’s all sorts of little touches and great jokes that play on the unique scenario of continuities colliding and popular commentary on this uber-series of films.
Of course, it can’t all be fun and games. The group has to collaborate to lure in, battle, and ultimately cure the quartet of remaining baddies, each of whom gets a moment in the sun. The Statue of Liberty (remodeled to include Captain America’s shield) makes for a good home base of the climactic final set piece. And the ensuing multiball battle among Spider-Men and super villains finds a way to give the MCU Peter an edge and a reason to lead despite his comparative youth -- unlike the other Spideys, he knows how to work as part of a team.
The ensuing battle is fun, if occasionally confounding given the number of similarly-dressed heroes and a blur of villains smattered across indistinct scaffolding. It mainly works thanks to the continually entertaining dynamic of the different Peter Parkers working together, and the villains receiving their grace notes. The CGI lizard is still an ugly design, but this Dr. Connors gets to make a personal history-backed point about trying to fix people, and have a moment of recognition with his Peter. Sandman doesn’t have much in the way of a character arc, but still gets to swirl and impress with particle effects more than a decade since his last outing.
Electro comes out the best for his transition from one film series to another, as this universe’s “different energy” magically makes him into a much better (and better-looking) character, something the script wryly comments on. Sporting a modern, but more traditional design, Jamie Foxx finally gets to have real fun in the role, as basically an entirely new character. And he’s stopped by none other than Doc Ock, the only villain MCU Spidey managed to fix earlier, in a wonderful mini-twist. Alfred Molina, who fared the best of any of his counterparts in his original movie, continues to soar in the role here. And his arriving to help save the day is an excellent, minor tribute to the idea that not all of Peter’s good deeds go unpunished; some of them come back to him right when he needs them.
It speaks to how this movie gets both the big and the little things right here. So many of its choices not only delight you, they feel right. The energy-focused Electro is drawn to one of Iron Man’s arc reactors. Dr. Octavius grasps it and declares, “the power of the sun, in the palm of your hand,” the thing he was hoping to achieve in Spider-Man 2. He and Maguire’s wall-crawler share a moment of recognition, where Otto’s touched to see how this “dear boy” is all grown up. Ned discovers that his grandmother is right, he *is*, in fact, magic. M.J. goes from the eternal pessimist, preferring to expect disappointment rather than be blindsided by it, to reassuring her friends that they’ll go forth and kick ass here. There’s something worthwhile for anyone and everyone here.
There’s even brilliant visual echoes to prior movies. Garfield’s Spider-Man, who nearly steals the show both comedically and dramatically, manages to save this universe’s M.J. in the exact way he couldn’t save his universe’s Gwen. It’s an emotional payoff to a seven year old movie that still lands like gangbusters. It’s emblematic of *No Way Home*’s remarkable ability to not only invoke past events and characters from the Raimi and Webb films, but to pay them off, round them out, and in some cases even fix them. It extends Peter’s desire to save all of these lost souls and see the best in them to a meta level, evincing a similar wish in the heart of Watts and his collaborators with regards to the films that paved their way.
The ultimate challenge, though, comes in the form of the Green Goblin, the original Spider-Man villain, and the one who’s taken the most from Holland’s Peter Parker. The fight here is not a physical one, even as Spidey and Gobby do go toe-to-toe once more with our hero coming out on top. It’s a personal one, as the MCU Spider-Man must decide whether to exact vengeance upon this dastard who killed his surrogate mother, or to relent and try to fix him too.
It must be said that Dafoe gives a tour de force performance here, rivaling Molina himself and Michael Keaton among Spidey’s cinematic antagonists. He’s entirely plausible as an apologetic Norman desperate to be reformed, warming to this Peter as another surrogate son. And he’s an equal and opposite terror as the Green Goblin, menacing and insidious in ways that go beyond frightening, instead cutting to the bone. He growls at Holland’s Spider-Man that the altruism his aunt preached and which Peter himself has taken up, is a weakness, a pathology. He blames Peter for May’s death, arguing that it was Peter’s compassion, his willingness to try to help rather than just solve the problem by the simplest means necessary, that led to his aunt’s demise. These words carry extra sting in the shadow of Peter’s lingering sense of guilt for how his “controversies” have ruined the lives of those close to him.
As a lego figure in the film’s aftermath hints, Osborn is basically demanding that Peter turn to the dark side. And like the other fresh-faced heroes before him, he stays strong in the light. Only he’s not alone. The other Spideys figure into the finish in ways that are meaningful without stealing the spotlight. Maguire’s Spider-Man holds back a vengeful Peter from stabbing his foe with the Goblin’s glider, a weapon whose deepest cuts he knows all too well, and Garfield’s wall-crawler delivers him the cure. Despite everything, despite his justified anger and the ease with which he could give into it, Peter instead decides to save and forgive even his aunt’s killer, a man who can then only sit and wonder “What have I done?”
I can think of no greater tribute to the spirit of Spider-Man and the character’s legacy across a multi-media empire. The choice to save someone when you have every reason not to, when you’d rather vindicate the values of your lost mentor rather than merely avenge them, is a triumph of the character’s abounding heart and compassionate ethos. Peter chooses to do good, when his powers make it physically easy, but his life makes it emotionally impossible. That, more than anything, is Spider-Man.
Only he’s not done. The ongoing wrinkles of Doctor Strange’s original spell are tearing reality apart, and the only way to stop it is a counter-spell with a tremendous cost: everyone must forget Peter Parker entirely. His best friend, his young love, his allies from across the universe, will no longer know him. And he suggests it, chooses it, because he’ll willingly lose everything to save everyone.
I’m always hesitant about uber-magic as the solution to problems, but there’s an emotional logic here that lets this tack succeed. What matters here isn’t Strange’s spell, which runs into all sorts of logical problems if you start to try to untangle what it means in practice. What matters is Peter’s willingness to give up his life, the friendships that have sustained him, the resources that have helped him, in the name of the greater good.
There’s something profoundly heartening-yet-melancholy in that. In a small way, the Goblin wins, convincing Peter that he is, in fact, a source of hardship to those close to him. Even when he walks into the donut shop where M.J. works, a speech in hand to try to find his way back into her good graces despite the erasure of their shared history, he relents when he sees how happy she and Ned are. He is, like so many Spider-Men before him, unwilling to make even people he cares deeply about a part of his life if it means disrupting their joy and putting them at risk. There as well rests the heart of what Spider-Man is about: great sacrifice, immense suffering, enduring karmic unfairness, in the name of doing the most good.
With that, *No Way Home* is one of those miraculous films that takes on so much and yet somehow achieves everything it sets out to do. It tells a compelling story of the MCU Spidey losing everything and still striving to uphold his Aunt’s values. It takes on the chief criticisms of this version of the character, bringing him more in line with traditional depictions. It honors eight films’ and three continuities' worth of stories and characters, integrating them into a seamless whole. It pays off and even fixes dangling threads and broken character arcs from prior movies, providing rousing, cathartic endings for familiar heroes and villains alike. And despite feeling like the culmination of so much, it forges a new origin story for Spider-Man, one that clears the board for more adventures while still offering a heartening conclusion to the ones of old.
In the end, Peter chooses mercy over vengeance. He chooses tremendous self-sacrifice over personal gain. He finds strength in his closest friends and likeminded counterparts. He saves those even his would-be teacher thinks unsalvageable. He gives up everything, loses everything, and despite it all, chooses to start again and help people, to carry on the spirit of the lost parent who molded him into the extraordinary person he became. If that’s not Spider-Man, I don’t know what is.
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