One one hand this film sets the standard for what a Hollywood superhero movie should be. Instead of camping it up or trying to take the story to another level that throws away the fundamental ingenuous appeal of the original comic (which is what happened with both the television and film incarnations of "Batman") it is a true live action comic book, presenting its juvenile, melodramatic subject matter with sincerity and a straightforward graphic flair that without being at all obvious about it provides a genuine analog to the classic Marvel style.
On the other hand, the fact that it is nothing more than another extremely costly Hollywood comic book come to life makes it infuriating viewing for anyone watching with a brain not on idle. Seldom has a contemporary film dared to present such a blatantly retro-Hollywood misogynist worldview, with its musclebound, power-obsessed male protagonists demonstrating only the most primitive interests in the only two female characters, a deferential old lady (ROSEMARY HARRIS???? isn't this a little like casting Laurence Olivier as Grandpa Walton?) who mainly exists to serve food and a young woman (Kirsten Dunst, augmented breasts jutting awkwardly from anorectic ribcage) whose purpose is to totter on high heels between encounters with males bent on raping/murdering/courting/protecting her. Watching pretty Toby Macguire ecstatically shooting through the air on threads of spermlike "silk" and stolidly rejecting the woman he "loves" because he has more important things to do than actually stick around and have a relationship with her--like zipping around in the night chasing other muscular fellows in tight suits with his sperm-thrower--tells you all you need to know about subtext here. Yeah, just keep telling yourself, it's only a movie.
On the other hand, the fact that it is nothing more than another extremely costly Hollywood comic book come to life makes it infuriating viewing for anyone watching with a brain not on idle. Seldom has a contemporary film dared to present such a blatantly retro-Hollywood misogynist worldview, with its musclebound, power-obsessed male protagonists demonstrating only the most primitive interests in the only two female characters, a deferential old lady (ROSEMARY HARRIS???? isn't this a little like casting Laurence Olivier as Grandpa Walton?) who mainly exists to serve food and a young woman (Kirsten Dunst, augmented breasts jutting awkwardly from anorectic ribcage) whose purpose is to totter on high heels between encounters with males bent on raping/murdering/courting/protecting her. Watching pretty Toby Macguire ecstatically shooting through the air on threads of spermlike "silk" and stolidly rejecting the woman he "loves" because he has more important things to do than actually stick around and have a relationship with her--like zipping around in the night chasing other muscular fellows in tight suits with his sperm-thrower--tells you all you need to know about subtext here. Yeah, just keep telling yourself, it's only a movie.