Poor Peetah Parkah

Rating: 5/10 (22 October 2016)

"Really? Why...?"
Yes, this was the general nonplussed audience reaction when The Amazing Spider- Man was greenlit. Sony, attempting to burn images of emo-haired, hip-thrusting Tobey Maguire from viewers' brains, opted for the post -Schumacher Batman route, by pretending it simply never happened. Cool. Fair. So: a paradigm shift privileging, y'know fun? Orrrrrr, resetting the clock with a patented (/already stale) "gritty reboot" (sigh). After all, why do something interesting or jaunty with the superhero world-famous for his cheeky sense of playfulness, when you could, once again, subject audiences to the death of Uncle Ben (spoilers! NOT), and his most hilariously cumbersome paraphrasing of "with great power comes great responsibility" yet? That said, given their abominable squandering of their most popular franchise here, it seems it's a lesson Sony, more than their audiences, could benefit from hearing.
Initially, director Marc Webb (guess how he got the job) seemed an ideal choice. Fresh off sprightly, revisionist rom-com (500) Days of Summer, his grasp of 'The Youths' seemed as intuitive as any - who better to breathe life into the neurotically lovable superhero fussing about dating and laundry while fighting crime right? Sadly, Webb's name is about as close as he gets to Spider-Savvy, with his laboured, dull, and loathsomely faux-hip super-sludge-fest. To be fair, Webb certainly embraces the 'gritty' qualifier with gusto, opting for a shady, chiaroscuro Alex Ross aesthetic, with flashes of colour streaking across the dark like paint running in the rain. It would be quite striking if he could conjure up the content to match. And no, the nauseating, instantly-dated 'first-person Spider-Cam' 3D shots (Peter Parkour?) don't count. Except for accurately emulating a lacklustre early-2000s video game.
Instead, The Amazing Spider-Man is a fundamentally confused endeavour (granted, it's at least more consistently gloomy than its bloated, tonally schizophrenic franchise-bait sequel - though this honestly isn't much of a compliment). It wants to be serious, but fumbles frantically between grim, obsessive vigilante vengeance (yawn) and mumblecore humour (double-yawn), ultimately belly-flopping with both. It distinguishes itself by focusing on the mystery of Peter's dead parents, then only pays dreary, expositional lip-service to them. Most insulting, though: it doesn't seem to understand Spider-Man at all. Instead, the clumsiness that Webb presents suggests hackneyed studio-generated attempts to morph Spidey into their perceptions of what would appeal to as widespread a group of fans as possible. But fans smell artifice. And you wouldn't like them when they're angry (wait - that was that other guy).
Our plot (evil corporation, bad science nonsense, New York in danger) is a dreary, slovenly edited remake of Sam Rami's first two Spidey flicks. Our action spurts are brief and forgettable, including a clumsy, cramped Lizard brawl in a high school, and a climax revolving around a toppling tower spire - oooh! ahh! - a set piece that even Spider-Man 3 treated superfluously in its opening action scene. Even James Horner's brassy score feels hollow and tinny rather than elating. Yet, despite its yearning to stand out, Webb's Spidey still dials up the angst and cheese factors, which drew more flack than anything in Raimi's Spiders (the cranes. THE CRANES!). At the very least, the voluminous FX budget spares no expense in making Spider-Man move masterfully, springing and swinging around like a proper super hero. Still, these are the only fleeting moments the adjective 'Amazing' remotely comes to mind, without the suffix "ly bad" ensuing.
But there's no Spider-Man without good ol' relatable, nerdy outcast Peter Parker, right? Well, see him here as you've never seen him before: kind of ...cool? Dressed like an American Apparel catalogue model, effortlessly bagging the hot girl of his dreams, and...skateboarding to Coldplay in a ship yard...?! Even worse: browsing the web (ha) with... Bing??!? Quick: another reboot! ANOTHER REBOOT!!!
It's not poor Andrew Garfield's fault that his Peter is a bit of an angsty hipster prat, though, bless 'im - chock that one up to Webb bleating 'The Youths, The YOUTHS!!!" with a studio bridle in his mouth. Garfield's Spider-Man, conversely, couldn't be more spot-on: lean, springy, earnest, and constantly wisecracking, he's enormously enjoyable enough to bring into stark perspective how miscast, albeit lovable, poor Tobey was. For his time, Garfield was the first PROPER Spider-Man we'd had to date (holla, Holland!). Even if he opts for even more senseless, unmasked public face time than Tobey. D'oh.
Still, ASM marks the first superhero jaunt where the romance subplot is its strongest element. Yes, really. Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone: by gosh they're adorable together. Their awkward, slapstick banter, and surprisingly tender chemistry practically fizzes, and breathes the only real life and energy into the film. Stone alone is already perfection, her Gwen Stacy feisty and snappy enough to practically carry a picture, but together they're unstoppable.
They're about it, though: Rhys Ifans lurks and skulks well, but he does little to punch up his Dr. Connors' vacuous obsessive scientist archetype, while saddled with a deplorably lazy CGI alter ego, unsightly for the wrong reasons (and no lizard lab coat, either. Hmpff). Denis Leary's sneering guilt barometer cop is more intolerably sour than inspirational, while Sally Field and Martin Sheen as Peter's Aunt May and Uncle Ben are both pleasant and capable enough, but barely factor in. The normally excellent Irrfan Khan's sulky Oscorp exec? Less so. But hey - at least Stan Lee's cameo is... fine? Chuckle-worthy, even? Yeah! Go Stan go.
The crown jewel of the 'senseless reboot' camp, The Amazing Spider-Man is bolstered only by Garfield and Stone's effervescent chemistry, and mites of the unquenchable joy of watching Spider-Man swinging across a screen (occasionally in third person and everything!). Still, Webb does his best to quash that joy, with his cantankerous, desperately unimaginative super-flop, choking on its own unwarranted delusions of hipness. There's no J. Jonah Jameson needed to declare this sickly smudge of a film a menace.
-4.5/10