Spider-Man 3

Spider-Man 3 started off strong. I really liked the comic-booky creation story of the Sandman (Thomas Haden Church - Yeow! What a transformation from his character in Sideways!) And the fight between Spiderman and Harry (is he really called "New Goblin"? Why not "lil' Goblin"?) was slick and exciting. But at 2 hours and 20 minutes, I'd say it was about 1 hour too long. The bits with Mary Jane and her flopping career were so dull. Every time there was a long shot of something stupid, like eggs frying in a pan, or Stan Lee saying some crap I-never-did-mind-about-the-little-things, I found myself looking around for something to claw out my eyes.

I really have to quibble with this conceit that Black=Evil. Sure, sure, maybe it's just what color his evil-suit happened to be, but we can't keep reinforcing these worn-out, Disney-style stereotypes that, however subconsciously, are culturally hurtful.


Also, how insane was it that when Parker starts getting infected by the black spidersuit, he like, turns into a '70's porn star, walking down the street, doin' the hustle? And, ooh, see, he wears his hair all in his eyes. Only a ruffian would do that.

Former indie stars Maguire, Dunst and Howard must have had a terrible time keeping a straight face through such brilliant dialogue as:

Parker: Are you OK?
Watson: Yeah.

That gem was uttered after Mary Jane was nearly smashed by a dump truck, then a taxi, having been suspended in the air perhaps 100 stories high, and then plummeting most of that distance only to be rescued at the last possible moment while onlookers below gasped and then, yes, applauded. "Yea! You caught the girl, and didn't allow her to be dashed before our eyes and the eyes of our children, with whom we are standing on the street, watching an epic battle take place!" Hackneyed, is what it is!