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Spider-Man 2 directed by Sam Raimi. Sony
Pictures, 2004, 127 minutes.
It's Not Easy Being
Spidey by Jo Ann Skousen
"Spider-Man 2," the summer blockbuster that many critics
call the best superhero flick ever, focuses on the underside of being a
superhero: no one appreciates you. No one knows your real name. It's an unpaid
volunteer position that dominates your time, making it impossible to hold down a
real job. Money is short. Personal relationships are limited. You have to drop
what you're doing whenever you hear someone cry out for help. In short, being a
superhero is a little bit like being a mother.
| | Jo Ann
Skousen is a writer and critic living in New York.
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Is "Spider-Man 2" the best superhero flick ever? Well, it's good. But not for
the reasons you might think. The graphics are stunning, but we've come to expect
that now that computers make it so easy. Tobey Maguire looks terrific in his
Spiderman suit — or is that his stunt double crouching on top of the
speeding train? The battle scenes are scary, in a Jurassic Park kind of way,
terrifying the single-digit kids sitting in the row ahead of me. But the dialogue
between the fight scenes gets a little long, boring those same little kids. As
the love interest for a superhero, Kirsten Dunst lacks the feistiness of a Lois
Lane or the glamor of a Catwoman. But after a hard day of saving the world, maybe
a superhero just needs an ordinary little woman waiting for him at home.
One of the characteristics that makes Spiderman and Batman more satisfying
dramatically than Super-man is that they are not invincible. They are ordinary
humans who have developed incredible powers, but they have to work at it, and
their lives are at risk. Superman loved jumping in front of speeding bullets,
shaking his head with paternalistic disgust when the bad guys learned once again
that his body was impervious to pain, strain, or intrusion. By contrast, in
"Spider-Man 2" we see Tobey Maguire's face contort with genuine effort as he
lifts, pulls, reaches, fights. At one point he grimaces, "This is really heavy!"
We know that at any point he might lose. Well, okay, we know that he won't
lose. But we know that he could, and that makes the conflict more
satisfying. As Achilles remarks in "Troy": "The gods envy us because we are
mortal. Every moment may be our last."
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| After a hard day of
saving the world, maybe a superhero just needs an ordinary little woman waiting
for him at home. |
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What makes "Spider-Man 2" more than just a summer flick for me is that it
addresses the debate between self-interest and social obligation. Can a true
libertarian be a superhero? Or is "libertarian superhero" an oxymoron? Like Paul
Newman's character in "Hombre" (1967), Peter Parker (aka Spiderman) must decide
whether he is willing to give up his private personal pursuits to risk his life
for a community that neither cares about him nor appreciates him. "Hombre" often
makes the list of top libertarian movies because Paul Newman expresses many
libertarian values as he rejects the pressure applied by his fellow stagecoach
travelers to protect them from the outlaws, simply because he has the strength,
daring, and skills they lack. Similarly, Peter Parker questions whether he is
willing to continue being Spiderman simply because he has superhuman powers. Is
he obligated to give up financial gain, romance, a satisfying career, and hobbies
simply because other people need his help? John Adams said to Thomas Jefferson as
he urged him to write the Declaration of Independence, "It's your duty, damn it!"
Peter's wise Uncle Ben tells him during a moment of personal angst, "People who
have such a gift have an obligation to use it for the good of others." Uncle Ben
is speaking from the Great Beyond, of course; he was killed in the first film
trying to protect the world from a robber. Apparently, based on the bright white
light behind Uncle Ben's head, we can assume that he has gone on to a happy
reward, but is this promise of future benefits enough to warrant sacrifice in
this life?
| We know that Spiderman
won't lose. But we know that he could, and that makes the conflict more
satisfying. |
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I couldn't help but note the implications of Spiderman as an archetypal Christ
figure as well. He faces a Gethsemane, groaning from the weight of having to
protect all those souls residing in his community, many of them undeserving and
unappreciative. He has the power to reject his calling and rails against it,
begging for another way. He is not forced to fulfill his role as a savior; he
must choose for himself which path he will take.
Eventually, Paul Newman gives in and accepts his duty, protecting the
ungrateful, and in many ways undeserving, society to which he belongs simply by
virtue of a stagecoach ticket. Like Christ, he determines that he is willing to
die for someone else's mistakes. Similarly, I don't think it would be giving away
a plot twist to tell you that Peter Parker chooses to resume his Spiderman role,
interrupting his personal life and interests to risk his life at the drop of a
hat or the sound of a siren. That's fine for him. But what about our question? Is
it philosophically consistent for a good libertarian to be a self-sacrificing
superhero? The key word here is "chooses." No one coerces Peter Parker — or
Hombre or Jesus or Thomas Jefferson — into fulfilling the superhero role. He
examines his life both as a superhero and as an ordinary human, and he discovers
that he prefers the thrill and the personal satisfaction of doing good for
others. He may not get paid money for his work, but he receives psychic benefits
with each heroic act. Moreover, his time preference extends far into the future,
where he will indeed be paid. Like Achilles, who rejected marriage and family
life for the life of a war hero, he knows that "they will remember us a thousand
years from now." For some heroes, and mothers for that matter, that's payment
enough.
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