Spider-Man 2 Taught Me How To Adult

20 years later, it might seem tempting to incriminate Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2 for the onslaught of superhero entertainment that’s monopolized the cinematic landscape. Released before Christopher Nolan’s prestigious Dark Knight Trilogy and before the MCU turned disgraced actor Robert Downey Jr. into a Rock Star, Sam Raimi proved the staying power of Comic Book IP with his first two Spider-Man films starring Tobey Maguire, whose buddy Leo DiCaprio had been considered for the role just years before.

Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man films were released during an awkward period for the genre, right in that Growing Pains chapter post-Joel Schumacher’s Batman duology. The commercial success and critical respect for Comic Book Movies had been proven by Richard Donner’s Superman and Tim Burton’s Batman, but by the New Millennium, those two appeared to be the exceptions, not the rules. The cinematic debuts of Supergirl, Captain America, Judge Dredd, and Spawn flopped, and they flopped hard. Statistically speaking, any feature film that was preceded by either the DC Comics or Marvel logos was statistically likely to be a commercial and critical disaster.

Ironically, the superhero flicks that had largely succeeded with the public were either based on more obscure properties like The Crow or were original inventions altogether a la Robocop. My personal favorite example of the latter would be 1990’s Darkman, a pastiche of pulp hero serials and Universal Monster pathos that was helmed by Sam Raimi, then largely known as the boy wonder behind the popular Evil Dead movies.

A decade later, Sam Raimi would be assigned the task of bringing everybody’s favorite webhead to the big screen. Previous attempts to turn Spider-Man into a theatrical film had failed at various stages of development, though there was a short-lived television series that produced a number of TV Movies. Let’s say that Spidey’s best days were yet to come. After James Cameron pitched a treatment for a Spider-Man film that has since garnered infamy, Sam Raimi was hired to direct 2002’s Spider-Man in what could either be the greatest triumph or the most public disaster of his career.

It proved to be not only his most resounding commercial success, but one of the most profitable films ever made, having been the first film to ever score $100 million on its opening weekend alone.

My parents tell me that I saw the original Spider-Man no less than eight times in theaters. So you can imagine how much I was dying to see the sequel. In fact, I’m fairly certain that the existence of Spider-Man 2 taught me what sequels even were. You’re telling me that they’re making another one?! It didn’t even cross my infantile mind that the sequel might not be as good as the first movie.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to learn that lesson with Spider-Man 2. The immediate consensus was that this was a rare sequel that surpassed the original in virtually every conceivable way. The special effects were more sophisticated, the action more visceral, the characters had depth and pathos considered rarely seen in blockbuster cinema. Raimi also learned from his mistakes in the prior entry, maturing out of the film’s more heightened and at times juveline aesthetic to a less saturated but tastefully romantic color grading. It also helped that the lameness of The Green Goblin was nowhere in sight, though Willem Dafoe made a welcome cameo.

Some of the fervor surrounding Spider-Man 2 was somewhat eclipsed by The Dark Knight, which was instantly crowned as the best comic-book film ever made. Sam Raimi’s legacy was also threatened unfortunately by the, let’s say, subpar follow-up in Spider-Man 3. While his third installment still conquered the box office, Raimi’s supposed mishandling of the fan-favorite Venom and awkward balance of goofball Peter Parker and woman-beater Peter Parker caused a backlash that eventually led Sony Pictures to reboot their cash-cow franchise with Andrew Garfield in the titular role.

As someone who remained loyal to Sam Raimi’s trilogy, I remember a dark period where it appeared that its stature would be diminished over time after the boom of the MCU. How many times can audiences see Uncle Ben die or watch Peter learn that “With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility”? Furthermore, fanboys started getting scrupulous about comic-book lore accuracy and retroactively condemned Sam Raimi’s version for the liberties he took with the source material. Some critiques were surface-level, like Peter now having organic web shooters instead of mechanical ones. But some sectors of the fandom took issue with Sam Raimi’s fundamental vision of Spider-Man as not being a quippy swashbuckler who was juggling chicks out of his league, but as a put-upon dweeb that couldn’t even make being a superhero look cool.

Thankfully, the clouds have parted, and my generation has kept the memory of Spider-Man 2 alive and well. It went from being proclaimed as the “best superhero movie ever made” to representing a pre-MCU era when superhero flicks could still be the vehicle for auteurs who prioritized thematic storytelling over Cameos and Easter Eggs. It’s actually incredible to rewatch Spider-Man 2 and realize just how restrained and focused it was. While it makes cute allusions to greater Marvel lore by jokingly referring to Dr. Octopus as “Dr. Strange,” it has no fat to its story or characterizations. The only indulgences Sam Raimi makes was with his own style, which tends to make some audiences groan, but delights the rest of us. What other filmmaker would dare needle-drop “Raindrops Are Falling On My Head” in his superhero sequel? Sam Raimi, that’s who.

So the question is, why does Spider-Man 2 endure amidst an increasingly commercialized and oversaturated ecosystem? Why has it stayed with those young viewers like myself who were then spoiled with an avalanche of Superhero Content that pandered so flagrantly to the nerd in all of us? This second wind for Spider-Man 2 is the result of my generation realizing that, more than any work of pop art that we grew up with, it essentially taught us what it meant to be an adult. 

While I can’t overstate what a profound effect Spider-Man 2 had upon me in its initial release, I can also remember being distanced from the more mature components of the film. I appreciated Peter Parker’s struggle to balance his Superhero Chores with his personal life in so far as I cared how much said personal life threatened his ability to be Spider-Man. I lamented his inability to attend Mary Jane’s Broadway play, not because I hated to see him disappoint her (though I did have one hell of a crush on Kirsten Dunst at the time), but because the more he disappointed her, the closer he was to quitting being Spider-Man.

It’s actually remarkable that I was as patient with it as I was because, on rewatch, it’s more sparse with Spider-Man screentime than I remembered. Of course, the Spider-Man action that we do get is some of the finest Superheroics ever put to film. We all remember the L-Train battle, particularly the oft-memed image of Tobey Maguire stopping the runaway train with his bare hands. I might prefer the fight scene when Spidey and Doc Ock duke it out on the side of a skyscraper.

Slow down, kiddo. First, you’re going to watch Peter realize that Aunt May is having money problems. Money problems that he’s completely unequipped to solve, despite being the hero of New York City. After that, you’ll have to watch a drunken Harry Osborn slap our protagonist across the face. Oh, and Spider-Man’s going to lose his powers, too. And deal with existential questions of identity, choice, and responsibility.

So why wasn’t I bored as a kid? And why are those the scenes that resonate with me the most as an adult?

Rewatching Spider-Man 2 as a married man who’s paying off an auto loan and playing the nasty game of freelancing, my heart can barely handle the scenes between Peter and Mary Jane. They give me PTSD flashbacks to every spousal argument I’ve ever had. I cringe when he’s chewed out by Dr. Connors, played thanklessly by Dylan Baker, who reminds him of the hard fact that you can’t miss class. No matter the excuse. That’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way, years and years after I first saw this exchange in theaters.

Simply put, I *want* Peter to hang up the tights now. Who cares about a couple of bank robbers in Lower East Side Manhattan? Peter has to make it to Mary Jane’s play. He promised! Being Spider-Man won’t even let him hold down a steady job. The median rent in Manhattan is over $4,000, and Peter’s supposed to make do by taking photos for the Daily Bugle? Not to mention that it’s ruining his friendship with Harry. Then again, I’m not sure how close I’d wanna be with James Franco, so scratch out that last part. 

The drudgery of Spider-Man no longer seems like a Higher Calling, even as Peter remembers the famous if not overquoted words of his Uncle Ben. And why would it? How often do we feel fulfilled just by being productive members of society? Paying taxes so that strangers can benefit from social programs, working jobs we hate so that we can provide for our loved ones? How does that stack up to being with the girl of your dreams?

That’s where Alfred Molina’s Doc Ock comes into the equation. Upon first impression, he’s the ultimate altruist and a man who could very well be the poster child for responsibility. Dr. Otto Octavius is an esteemed scientist working to create a self-sustaining energy source that could enrich a world that’s dependent on fossil fuels. Those four deadly arms aren’t his weapon of choice, but his tools for creating a better tomorrow. What a noble ambition. Not to mention that the affable Octavius also has a loving wife who works with him side-by-side. Peter can only watch with envy. Octavius is a man he’ll never be and has a life that he’ll never have.

Except that Dr. Otto Octavius represents a misunderstanding of responsibility. He puts his own ambitions, as benevolent as they are, over the people he cares for. He carries on with the experiments that killed his wife, and he terrorizes the people of New York City whom he’s supposedly trying to save. It’s tragic, and there’s a reason why Alfred Molina’s Doc Ock is often considered one of the most sympathetic movie villains of the 21st Century. But his fatal flaw provides a contrast to Peter’s dilemma that clarifies the nobility of responsibility, no matter how mundane and even harsh it can be.

No, responsibility isn’t hubris. It’s swallowing bitter truths, owning up to your mistakes, and doing right by people. Peter’s breakthrough moment of growth doesn’t come from any scene of him swinging around and saving people from evildoers. It comes at a critical point, after he’s lost his powers due to emotional impotence and sworn off his life as Spider-Man.

It’s when he finally confesses to Aunt May what “really” happened the night of Uncle Ben’s murder. He’s had the courage to face off against supervillains, but he only found the strength to tell Aunt May this just now. When he’s being confronted with the question of what kind of man he wants to be, superpowers or not. It’s Tobey Maguire’s most immaculate piece of acting in any of the Spider-Man films, and possibly his entire career.

All of this speaks to the core reason why I’m so indebted to Spider-Man 2: because it turns even the most banal chores of adulthood into a grandiose adventure. I reflect upon Peter’s struggle to stop the L-Train and think about how tired he is. How he’s not even sure that it’s going to work. These people aboard this train might be doomed, and Peter could be exhausting himself to save them in vain. But is that an excuse not to try? 

To be an adult in 2024 at first seems daunting, then it seems downright impossible. “From 1985 to 2020, the median U.S. rent-to-income ratio nearly doubled from 9% to 17%,” according to Real Estate Switch. “From 2000 to 2022, median home prices increased 156% nationwide, while median rent prices increased 90%.” According to Health System Tracker, “Since the end of 2007, healthcare [costs] have grown 21.6%.” Meanwhile, wages remain virtually stagnant.

Those who are Peter Parker’s age now are inheriting an economy that overworks them and underpays them. Not to mention to burden of student loans that would befall a college student like Peter Parker. 

Adulthood can feel like little more than a costume or a cape that we youths put on to confront the evils of daily life. Maybe we can defeat them, but we’re always bruised. And it’ll always come at a price. A relationship that didn’t work out because you couldn't commit to it, a dream job you couldn’t pursue because of obligations, or just the mental and physical taxation of work. 

But Sam Raimi assures us that there might not be a so-called “reward” for our work, but there is validation. And if you’re honest with not only yourself but the people you commit to, we could even get those things just out of reach. Peter doesn’t think he can be with Mary Jane until she inadvertently learns of his real identity. Unfortunately, future events in Spider-Man 3 spoil this analysis somewhat, but the ending of Spider-Man 2 leaves you confident but sober. Peter gets to embrace the woman he loves for a moment before being called again to the rescue. Mary Jane supports him with the iconic line: “Go Get ‘Em Tiger.” Neither of them is under the delusion that this will come easily. But what they have is worth fighting for.

We might not be superheroes thwarting the plot of an eight-armed madman, but I guarantee you that you have something worth fighting for, too.