The Agency of Spider-Man

Watching Spider-Man (2002) and The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) back to back offers a really interesting look into what and who can make a hero. Both films offer roughly the same origin story—the one we’re all familiar with. Peter Parker loses his parents young; he grows up living with his aunt and uncle into a loser who likes science and photography; he gets bitten by a radioactive spider; his uncle dies; he becomes a hero. It’s the same outline, but the details that are filled in create a world of difference.

Most of the pushback over Andrew Garfield’s portrayal of Spider-Man is that he’s too cool to be Peter Parker. The Amazing Spider-Man framed Peter as an awkward loner—much like the original source material—but also introduced him as a kid without glasses who skateboards. The core of the character remained the same: he was isolated, into photography, and was too smart for his own good. The creative team took that to mean something a little different in 2012 than it meant when the comics were originally published in 1962, and they took some licenses. I don’t think this makes him cool. I think the perception that he was cool comes from the 2012 mentality that a) Andrew Garfield is hot and b) grungy boys with stupid hair who skateboard are attractive to women and therefore can’t be Peter Parker. This ignores the facts that a) Peter Parker pulls, and b) I knew at least 3 weirdo loners exactly like Peter when I was in high school. So the bones are the same.

The real difference between Tobey Maguire’s and Andrew Garfield’s Spider-Men is how active they are in their own narratives.

Toby’s Peter Parker has less agency: his character is almost completely reactionary. Things just sort of happen to him! He literally got bit by a random spider on a field trip—it could have been anyone. He’s introduced without seeming to have any motivation or ambition beyond trying to get MJ to notice him, and even when he gets powers, he doesn’t seem particularly interested in doing anything with them. He responds to disasters, but we don't see him do much hero work. He encounters the Green Goblin twice, and we don’t see him take any action to figure out what his deal is. He just lets him go and waits for him to strike again. Which is insane.

Not only is this sort of passivity kind of bland as a character trait, it just makes for a not-very-interesting story. He doesn’t have any direction. Nothing is pushing the story to move. The meandering, weirdly paced film we’re left with might be a more technically accurate interpretation of the comic, but it certainly doesn’t feel as faithfully dynamic as Spider-Man should be.

Alternatively, Andrew’s Peter Parker engages in the story in a way that feels fully enmeshed. He goes looking for trouble, even before he has powers. He lies to get himself into Oscorp, he breaks into a lab where he is not supposed to be, he gets bit sniffing around where he doesn’t belong, and he is there to meet destiny when it comes knocking.

Andrew’s Peter makes decisions. He takes action; he doesn’t just wait around and respond to disasters. When Uncle Ben dies, he creates Spider-Man to confront the killer. He literally seeks out criminals with a specific look, trying to avenge Uncle Ben. And then, when he’s accidentally made himself a hero, he does take up the mantle of protector and respond to crises. That bridge scene is incredible.

And while I’m here about the bridge scene, I’d like to directly compare it to the festival scene from Spider-Man (2002). Both scenes feature Peter encountering the film’s main villain for the first time. Both scenes serve as Spider-Man’s debut to society as New York’s hero rather than a spandex-wearing cryptid vigilante. And both scenes end with Peter deciding to save people over chasing down the baddie.

The difference is, after the Lizard crawls away, Andrew’s Spidey actually looks into it. He investigates. He does hero work to make sure the citizens of New York won’t face the same threat again. He tries to go to the police, and when that doesn’t work, he sets his own trap to gather evidence and intel. We see him working on this. We’re with him as he engages with the realities of being a superhero and taking responsibility for the protection of his city.

And it’s so much more fun to watch!

Peter is involved at every level of the story. Instead of the abstract interest in science we see from Toby’s Peter, Andrew’s Peter makes his scientific intrigue do something. He goes poking around at Oscorp. He makes his own web-shooters (comic-accurate!), and we see the research and experimentation that goes into it. He’s the one who gives the villain the equation he needs, and he finds a solution to the antagonist that's not just moving out of the way so the villain gets killed by his own glider. If Toby’s Peter were in Andrew’s movie, everyone would have become a lizard, and that’s a fact. Andrew’s Spidey Makes Things Happen.

So, my clear preference for Andrew notwithstanding, what does this mean for Spider-Man? In Jessica Morrell’s book, Bullies, Bastards And B*tches: How To Write The Bad Guys Of Fiction (2008), she defines a reluctant hero. “A reluctant hero is a tarnished or ordinary man with several faults or a troubled past, and he is pulled reluctantly into the story, or into heroic acts.” There’s no arguing that Spider-Man isn’t a reluctant hero (he’s literally listed as one of the examples of a reluctant hero on Wikipedia), but the ways Spider-Man (2002) and The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) express the archetype oppose each other.

In Spider-Man (2002), Peter does not want to be there. He barely has a story, let alone ambitions to be a part of it. The only thing he shows interest in in his entire first movie is MJ. He happens to get bit, and then he continues to do the bare minimum of hero-ing. Meanwhile, in The Amazing Spider-Man (2012), Peter didn’t start out trying to be a hero. He was there for one thing: revenge. Well, two things: satisfying his curiosity about his parents’ sketchy past and revenge for Uncle Ben. He was engaged with the story in a myopic way, but there was still a story. And his face-turn had him pulling out extra-credit work! Finding the Lizard, activating the community, pissing off cops. Everything you could want in a Spider-Man. 

I said in an earlier paragraph, “He literally got bit by a random spider on a field trip—it could have been anyone,” in a kind of dismissive way, but, look, I know that’s the point. I know the point is, “It could be anyone behind the mask.” But that doesn’t mean your protagonist should be no one. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) did that plotline the best: it gave us a reluctant Miles Morales while still giving him an arc that goes from “responding to crises” to “actively doing hero work.”. Do you think Toby’s Peter would have ever done the shoulder touch? Don’t make me laugh.

Peter Parker should have wants. Peter Parker should have ambitions. Peter Parker should be the driving force in his own story.

At the end of the day, the emphasis should always be on ‘hero’ over ‘reluctant.’