In Across the Spider-Verse, even more thrilling than the dazzling visuals is the hero’s bold psychological journey.
Multiverses are, at this point, familiar ground for Hollywood. Films about extra-dimensional travel and parallel versions of ourselves aren’t restricted to the realm of comic-book nerdery; the reigning Best Picture winner at the hoary Oscars is all about “verse-jumping,” after all. Yet no character is more conversant in the metaphysical and narrative implications of the multiverse than Spider-Man, who has been hopping through portals for years, both in the live-action film No Way Home and in Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, an animated delight that pushed every limit of the medium to smoosh seven very different spider-stars into one adventure.
So what possible new depths can that movie’s sequel, titled Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, plumb? The epic picks back up with teen hero Miles Morales (voiced by Shameik Moore), who travels across realities with five other Spideys, who are all connected through their shared insectoid prowess. The story is part two of a three-film arc—the next edition is slated for release in spring 2024—so don’t go in expecting a neatly tied-up conclusion. Instead, what’s impressive about Across the Spider-Verse is how it challenges the essential structure of a superhero narrative.
Audiences are probably painfully aware of Spider-Man’s character beats by now. This is the tenth major feature film to star the character since the director Sam Raimi’s first Spider-Man in 2002. Most of them have at least gestured at the notion of great power coming with great responsibility, and sacrificed a beloved uncle for the sake of a grander lesson. Miles dealt with renditions of these problems in Into the Spider-Verse. But the film also took pains to underline that he is a different character from Peter Parker, the usual Spider-Man, and he has endless potential to not follow the same hero’s journey.
[Read: Spider-Man: Far From Home satirizes the way Marvel movies are made]
Across the Spider-Verse reunites Miles with his erstwhile crush, Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld), a Spider-Woman from another timeline, who’s now part of a crew that is trying to restore order to the multiple universes. Alongside Gwen is Peter B. Parker (Jake Johnson), a charmingly bedraggled take on the first film’s character; Jessica Drew (Issa Rae), a pregnant and motorcycle-riding Spider-Woman; and Miguel O’Hara (Oscar Isaac), a.k.a. “Spider-Man 2099,” a grim and gritty vigilante from a dark alternate future who leads the team.
With all these heroes (and many others) comes stern council meetings and endless exposition, the kind of script sludge that has stopped other cross-dimensional films (such as Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness) in their tracks. But Across the Spider-Verse avoids seeming like a physics lesson because its visuals are consistently thrilling; the most static bits of dialogue still pop because of how daring the animation is. Just as important as the aesthetic creativity is the narrative intrigue. When Miles is taken to the land of Spideys and taught their ways, he keeps rubbing up against an insidious underlying notion—that they’re all inherently the same.
Yes, they each look different, as do their worlds. Some of the Spider-Men and -Women are flesh-and-blood humans, others are talking animals, and one is literally a walking Lego figure. Gwen’s universe is depicted through vivid watercolors, while Miles’s buzzes with neon energy. My favorite new character, Spider-Punk (Daniel Kaluuya), somehow looks like a zine sketch come to life; as with the last film, Across the Spider-Verse is a computer-animated film that uses the medium to depict a multitude of artistic styles.
But Miles’s growing realization as Across the Spider-Verse progresses (it clocks in at a hefty 140 minutes) is enticingly rebellious. He’s not interested in being the same tragic hero as those around him. His life is stuffed with costumed do-gooders carrying both the weight of the world and untold personal losses, and Miles (who has loving parents and a close bond to Gwen) starts to stray outside the lines in the hope of avoiding those same burdens.
My one real complaint is that Spider-Verse has only begun to explore this line of thinking when it ends on a risky, unresolved plot point. The dazzling ambition on display, both aesthetically and narratively, justifies the swing. But I won’t be ready to call the Spider-Verse series a masterpiece of the genre until I watch it stick the landing next year—even though I’m a firm believer that it will.
