Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse
Credit: Sony
Personal Meets Multi-Versal: How Across The Spider-Verse One-Ups Its Prequel
Across the Spider-Verse is the rare breed of sequel that warrants unironic applause when the credits roll. Not the kind of auteur-worship homage when a director is present. The sincerely unanimous praise for a shared experience that exceeds expectations. Pure electricity.
Back in 2018, the original Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, didn’t just dazzle audiences. It defied the canon of Hollywood animation. Pixar’s smooth photorealism was replaced by choppy expressionism and experimental textures, a look closer in feel to Marvel comics. After the film’s success, more stylized animated features followed, including The Mitchells vs. the Machines and Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. Sure, no particular look is more valid than another—but in a risk-averse industry, bold experimentation can inspire awe. Fast forward to 2023 and an even higher bar: at the risk of overhyping a universal crowd-pleaser, this sequel is that good.
Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is a visually breathtaking, keenly funny and genuinely thrilling masterpiece ... even beyond its predecessor. A rare experiment that commandeers both pop art and fine art, it threads the needle between broad appeal and risk-taking. It’s no coincidence that the film’s first big fight destroys the Guggenheim. With the help of a sharply intelligent screenplay (by Phil Lord, Christopher Miller and Dave Callaham), directors Joaquim Dos Santos, Kemp Powers and Justin K. Thompson push animation’s creative envelope; the result is 140 boldly inventive minutes of whirling colors and belly-laughs, a visual feast with more courses than we can digest.
And yet we hunger for more. The latest Spider-Verse reminds us of the power of movies, and the responsibility that comes with it.
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Credit: Sony
How does lightning strike twice?
The latest in Sony’s prolific series of Spider-Man sagas, some more blockbuster, some less, Across the Spider-Verse picks up one year and four months after Into The Spider-Verse. Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld) and Miles Morales (Shameik Moore) fight crime in their respective ‘verses; each senses a piece missing. An introductory recap, plus subtly updated character design and voice work denote the passage of time: a cockier Miles and a wiser, warier Gwen. Before long, a multiverse-threatening glitch leads the pair to team up with Spideys from other universes.
If this sounds par for the course, remember, this film is still a superhero movie complete with familiar beats: skipping school to fight bad guys, hiding secrets from loved ones, assembling a kooky team. But like a kid drawing doodles, Across the Spider-Verse follows new ideas like electric currents, channeling flashes of unrestrained imagination. Every scene evolves into delightfully unpredictable territory—and leaves you grinning from ear-to-ear.
Many of the film’s best surprises can be credited to stellar vocal performances across the board. Returning cast—Moore, Steinfeld, Brian Tyree Henry, Luna Lauren Velez, Jake Johnson, etc.—are joined by newcomers who are better heard than spoiled. To single out any member of the cast or specifics of their performance would be foolish: they all rock. (I’m leaning toward Daniel Kaluuya / Spider-Punk or Jason Schwartzman / The Spot as frontrunners…) These characters are as multi-dimensional as the film’s settings, and each is affectionately designed with their own distinct body language (“motion signature” is the technical term).
Across the Spider-Verse’s vibrant visuals are, of course, the crown jewel.
Led by Nick Kondo, a team of over 1000 animators fires on all cylinders, evoking multiple art styles from Da Vinci’s Renaissance-era sketches to rough-hewn Flash animations of the early aughts. Their cinematic language operates via synesthesia: an emotional father-daughter exchange is framed by impressionistic neon brushstrokes; a black-and-white premonition vibrates with the DIY sketchiness of “creepypasta” fan art; a roof tarp undulates like Miyazaki’s ocean waves. Shapeshifting auteurial touches help distinguish the separate ‘verses, endowing each new scene and character with a genuine feeling of discovery.
There’s even a kinship with Anime. Now that animation is being taken more seriously as an art-form (video games next!), the boundaries of what fits into a frame or a story disappear—and this film is proof. Kondo’s animators simulate camera moves and blocking better than most live-action movies. In contrast to the muddiness of commonplace CGI, Across the Spider-Verse’s supercharged action is delivered with stunning clarity: even trippier than Into the Spider-Verse, yet never hard to follow. The film’s quieter scenes are no less expressive, proving that heroes don’t always need to be web-slinging to capture our imagination.
Fact is, it does take a village—and in the case of this opus, fistfuls of artists played a pivotal role in each frame.
Even the soundtrack surpasses the original. A playlist of needle-drops produced and curated by Metro Boomin never misses a beat. Daniel Pemberton’s score levels up too, balancing callbacks to the prequel’s leitmotifs with fresh ones. A new villainous theme combines electric strings and pitch-dilating synths to create an ominous, canine wail; other instantly memorable melodies find synergy between Vangelis’s Blade Runner and ABBA’s Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!
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Credit: Sony
Across the Spider-Verse is a meta-movie that knows its film history and rewrites its own story.
In our own never-ending Sequel-Verse, this series gets fanservice right—thanks to self-awareness. Callbacks to earlier films and set-ups for future sequels are always savvy and tongue-in-cheek, never alienating. In one dimension-bending moment—apparently a nod to the Venom franchise—a cartoon character pops into a live-action scene à la Roger Rabbit. For the uninitiated (who haven’t yet read a listicle about “Easter Eggs You Missed in Across the Spider-Verse”), this plays as a commentary about filmgoers unimpressed by yet another multiverse saga. The same is true when another character quips, “Every time you say ‘the fate of the multiverse,’ something inside me dies.”
Just as Jon Watts’ winsome Spider-Man: No Way Home served as a conclusion for three generations worth of incomplete franchise re-boots, the Spider-Verse series serves as a response to all superhero movies whose plots are writ large. Like The Dark Knight and The Empire Strikes Back—both equipped with climactic cliffhangers that set up surefire sequels—this film earns its open-endedness with a self-contained story. Never have the words “To Be Continued” felt more simultaneously satisfying and frustrating.
And, like all great movies, Across the Spider-Verse bleeds into our own reality. It speaks to a time when world-ending threats feel closer to home, when escapist entertainment requires higher levels of everything—but doesn’t try to win you over with excess.
In other words, this script breathes. Like most blockbusters, the stakes are comically (and cosmically) high, but the drama is refreshingly personal. For every Trolley problem the heroes face, there’s a realistic family fight or heart-to-heart on a Brooklyn rooftop. The many cheer-worthy cameos in Spider-Verse are the cherry on top of a wildly creative Sundae—one that even Scorsese might call “cinema.” There are more ideas in each frame of Spider-Verse than most movies, and none of them feel like padding.
Even more satisfying is its message: since the beginning, Spider-Man has been a Marvel All-Star because of his (or her) achingly relatable conflicts over love vs. duty. At its best and most grounded, the Spidey characters empower us to approach our everyday choices more heroically. Yes, we are teased by hundreds of tantalizing realities ... but we are also reminded to make the most of the one we’ve been given. Which cycles back to the original challenge that brought us the first Spider-Verse back in 2018: how should we reimagine this reality?
As long as artists—or people of any stripe—dare ask this question, it’s not too late to change the reality we’re in now.
136 min. Now playing in theaters.