Choose your own plot thread (geddit?)

Rating: 5/10 (22 July 2015)

The most amazing thing about The Amazing Spider-Man 2 is how short a memory Hollywood has. Only seven years prior, Sam Raimi's Spider-Man 3 caused a shock wave of contempt so cataclysmic the only feasible recover was to stall for five years, then reboot the series. "Never again," intoned Sony executives, fearfully, "will we stuff a Spider-Man film with so many subplots, villains, and extraneous Goblins! We've learned our lesson. Never again!"
Heh.
I could pontificate about how overcrowded, unfocused, and tonally imbalanced Mark Webb's follow-up to his first Amazingly-mishandled Spider-Man is, but that's self-evident (consolation: no skateboarding to Coldplay montage here. Shudder). Instead, I propose an alternate means of consumption. Seeing as Webb's Big Mac of a superhero film contains at least three shorter, more cohesive films therein, and since we, thanks to the magic of blu-ray, have the option of fast-forwarding at liberty, I propose you pick the Spider-Man film you'd most like to see, skip all the redundant mush, and just watch that film instead. Think of it as a cinematic 'choose your own adventure story'!
Personally, I'm a fan of the first option: a lilting, lighthearted action-comedy vignette, just like the Spider-Man I grew up with! We open with Spider-Man swinging through the city, whooping away, the cheerful score of Hans Zimmer and his five co-composer buddies (no joke) chirping along, in pursuit of bad ol' puddy-tat Paul Giamatti and his truck full of stolen plutonium. This is about as close as cinema has ever gotten to a live-action cartoon: pastel colours, slapstick, insane action (including a police car pileup that hilariously upstages The Blues Brothers), and all-around fun. Andrew Garfield bouncing around, firing off dad jokes, is spot-on as Spidey, and Giamatti, spittle flying left and right as he grunts and snorts in his goofy Russian accent like a real rhinoceros, has surely tapped into some kind of method genius. Then, instead of the plodding middle two hours, maintain the fun and cut to the end. Oh no! Giamatti's back, nonsensically sporting a ridiculously daft mechanical suit, and helpfully naming his action figure by bellowing "Ayy Hyam de Rchynooooo!" You couldn't ask for a more heightened, cartoon climax: a standoff between Giamatti's knave and a bespectacled boy. Just in time: rack-focus to the real Spider-Man, who fist-bumps the kid and takes over. Genuinely affecting tears and cheers, and a heroic anticlimax urges you to tune in next week, same Spider-time, same Spider-channel. Magnificent.
Some may prefer the second film-within-a-film: a wacky, campy body-horror action thriller, as if concocted by David Cronenberg at a Skrillex concert. Meet Jamie Foxx's Max Dillon: an earnest, super-nerd so imbalanced we are subjected to an excruciatingly long sequence of him having an imaginary conversation with Spider-Man, straight into the camera (my second-hand-embarrassment senses are tingling!). Max predictably meets with a horrible accident, being bitten by (um) genetically-modified electric eels, and becoming the frightful, glowing, blue Mr. FreezElectro. Who controls electricity. Electro is a misunderstood monster, but quickly notices how his vilification grants his lonely existence exposure for the first time. But just when the film verges on momentary profundity, Spider-Man arrives to bash him about. In the ensuing (fairly exciting) battles, Max discovers his true calling as a dubstep artist, now providing the film with its wub-wub-wub-soundtrack in a creative choice so batsh*t it's either inspired or risible, depending on how stupefied the viewer already is. Max is subsequently tormented in prison by Martin Czokas' disturbingly over-the-top "Europeeank" Dr. Kafka, before he and his silly wet-suit are finally short-circuited by our hissable villain, Spider-Man. RIP Max.
Finally, for those three audience members who still jeer that our enjoyment-based comic book superhero jaunts still aren't gosh-darned serious enough, we have film number three: the melodrama. Behold: the trials of Peter Parker, haunted by the childhood disappearance of his parents and the stupid guilt-ghost of Dennis Leary. Even his girlfriend, Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone, tragicomic perfection) is leaving to pursue a prestigious scholarship in England (how selfish). Appropriately, the film's lighting is so grimly grey it's like Peter's Instagram filter is set to 'tar pit'. Thankfully, relief comes in the form of clumsily integrated ol' buddy Harry Osborn (Dane DeHaan, valiantly out-acting his asinine dialogue), whohas a dying father. And has inherited his rare, debilitating disease. And decides he needs Spider-Man's super-blood to cure him(?!) Drat. Thankfully, we take a break from the drama llama to adventure with Peter in an embarrassingly contrived subplot to a mysterious deserted subway lab so the script can awkwardly tie off the ill-advised 'parents' preoccupation everyone had already forgotten about. Finally, Peter and Gwen are confronted by a deformed, mutated, screeching Harry, whose conflict is also rushed along by the miracle discovery of a disease-suppressing Power Rangers suit and goblin glider (duh). But this is a SERIOUS fight, involving sharp things, stentorian pleading, and tragic collateral damage: a helpless clock tower suffers for their sins! Oops – I mean the film briefly blinks awake as one of the comic's most iconic moments is realized: Gwen plummets to her death with a shockingly visceral crunch, handled powerfully enough to stun even fans with the original panel breakdown memorized. Garfield is finally allowed to flex his dramatic muscles, and his sobs of disbelief are enough to wrench tears from the most cynical viewer. The film ends on this exquisite heartbreak. Darkness. No parents. Roll credits.
Still. The Amazing Spider-Man 2 should be considered a cautionary tale for the producers of (you guessed it) the next upcoming Spider-Reboot. On behalf of all the spider-fans and real rhinos everywhere who have slumped through a decade of committee-scripted spider-trash: learn from your mistakes. Pick a tone. Stick to ONE storyline and antagonist. And, for heaven's sakes, leave time for re-writes. Better yet: conclusively release the character rights back to Marvel Studios, who are capable of making respectful and fun superhero flicks without such hand-holding.
Excelsior.
-5/10