For years now more than one has been pointing out a crisis in superhero cinema (I was the first). The post-Endgame journey seems to have been too uphill for a genre that not long ago was believed to be infallible. The problem may stem from an undeniable imagination problem and an excessive corporate love of seriality. Is there life after Iron Man's death for shared universes? What's the point of continuing to dedicate films to the character when they always look sideways (or even look directly) at that other character that is yet to come? Few will deny that Marvel is not going through its best moment. Except Spider-Man: Crossing the Multiverse. She does deny it.
The sequel to Spider-Man: A New Universe is one of those movies that is better to see a lot and say (or write) little. One could believe that this second part could dirty a first installment already considered cult. One would think that the purity of a first film equally interested in Miles Morales and the multiverse would be perverted in a follow-up ostentatiously focused on expansion. Nothing could be further from https://spider-manacrossthespiderverse.com/id/movie/569094/spider-m...
the truth. Spider-Man: Crossing the Multiverse is even better than its predecessor in its ability to vindicate a hyperbolic coral while demonstrating its concern for the singular. The story of Miles Morales continues to be impregnated with purity, the kind that some of the last Spider-Mans may lack.
Much to say and little page for a technically indisputable film, lucid in every frame and conscious in every gesture. That the absence of the original directors does not worry anyone. The sequel is even superior to the original in its drive to translate the specifics of the comic to the movie screen, in empathizing with textures as a diegetic tool, and in seeking photogenicity (the exact image and no other) in each frame. Spider-Man: Crossing the Multiverse is meat of stendhalazo for the fan of superhero movies. A notion of the genre that a server only finds in Sam Raimi's Spider-Man is recovered here. A casual but committed, dynamic but precise superhero cinema. A superhero cinema that, for the first time in a long time, knows that it has something (new) to tell.
But beyond its overwhelming technical section, the return to the spiderverse is accompanied by a narrative proposal that is as postmodern as it is functional, an approach to the multiverse that (finally!) is not concerned with the future but with the past. Canon becomes canon in a movie that forces the character to be aware of the cinematic archetype he is playing. Miles's conflicts generated by having to live a life choreographed by the wishes of others are transported here to the meta-cinematic terrain with the apparent simplicity of someone who hits a triple without a backboard. But what seems easy is not always.
Each of the Spider-Mans exudes a different charisma, both visually and narratively, while simultaneously functioning in their plurality as pieces of an anti-reactionary film in absolutely every way. The heterogeneity of this multiverse ends up working as the conclusion of an essay on the foundations of spider-man (get ready, film school students...) and, above all, a reflection on its future possibilities.
I am writing this text knowing that I am forgetting to write ideas that I undoubtedly feel but that I perhaps unconsciously reserve for the inkwell on my retina. I could claim the enviable electronic work that Daniel Pemberton returns to the original soundtrack, a strictly urban symphony for a strictly New York hero. I could also applaud what I consider a voice-acting masterclass, not only by the main characters, but also by the new additions in the hands of Daniel Kaluuya, Jason Schwartzman and Oscar Isaacs. But at the end of the day I don't want to worry about not wanting/knowing how to over-rationalise the experience of Spider-Man: Crossing the Multiverse, a purely hedonistic dance (or, in other words, enjoyment).