I had the good fortune to see Spider-Man 3 for free the other day. I say “good fortune” because it didn’t cost me anything other than three hours of my life.
Awful just doesn’t begin to describe it. Somehow Sam Raimi has managed in three years and one movie what it took George Lucas around 20 years to do – destroy a franchise with a sequel so excruciatingly poor that it actually weakens the movies that went before it.
I loved Spider-Man 1 & 2, even if 2 was a little on the cheesy side in places… that and dumbed down at times, too. But 3… where to begin… with Spider-Man 3, Raimi has somehow managed to create characters more two dimensional than their comic book counterparts. He also feels the need to remind the audience, in flashback form, of events that happened only fifteen or twenty minutes before.
Because he thinks we’re stupid, obviously.
It’s actually just the movie that’s stupid. From the cringe-making “comedy” moments that portray Peter Parker as nothing more than an idiot, to the implausible finale that would have us believe a creature that arrived on Earth in a blazing meteor shower is seemingly vapourised by a small grenade that, curiously, does not have the explosive power necessary to even ruffle the hair of the unmasked hero, despite the fact he’s standing eight feet away.
It’s best I don’t dwell on it… or I’ll start to convulse at the thought of the slow-motion shot of Spider-Man gliding past the Stars & Stripes… or wretch at the memory of scene where Harry and MJ dance to The Twist whilst cooking lunch… or fret that they might be convinced to make a fourth movie, just to ensure that my childhood hero is well and truly tarnished forever.
With great power comes great responsibility. Somebody should have told Sam Raimi that.