Into the Spider-verse isn’t just the best Spider-man movie, it’s the best comic book movie that’s ever existed.
I’ve never quite gotten along with Marvel Studios’ Cinematic Universe. Even fan favourites such as Guardians of the Galaxy and Thor: Ragnarok have left me feeling cold. The majority of Marvel Entertainment’s releases have left me equally nonplussed. I’ve tried time and time again to get onboard whenever the Marvel hype train has rolled into the station. As a lifelong comic book fan and movie nerd, I feel like I should be excited by this juggernaut of a franchise. Instead, I’m left standing on the platform, scratching my head and wondering if there’s something wrong with me. Into the Spider-verse has helped me understand why.
It strikes me that many studios approach comic book adaptations the same way they’d adapt a novel for screen. They take the characters and main story beats and rework them into screenplays that fit into traditional cinematic or serialised structures. There are some fantastic stories that have been brought to screens in this way, (I loved End of the F***ing World and The Umbrella Academy), but it seems to me that this process misses an integral part of what makes comics as a medium so special. Comics are about so much more than their narrative.
I don’t think I’m even referring to the art here. Many directors already pay homage to famous frames in their movies. Zack Snyder was meticulous in his adaptation of Watchmen, practically treating the original comics as a storyboard. Robert Rodriguez’s Sin City faithfully recreated Frank Miller’s iconic aesthetic. Rewatching either of these movies in 2020 quickly illustrates how this engagement with the source material is only surface deep. I’ve seen my fair share of superhero movies. I’ve just never felt like I’ve watched a comic book movie.
That’s until I saw Into the Spider-verse.
It’s the most successful recreation of the experience of reading a comic book I’ve ever seen. That’s all down to its artistic vision and the groundbreaking techniques used to animate it. It would have been perfectly feasible for this to be a live action film or a run-of-the-mill Pixar clone. Even with the same fantastic script, the same wonderful cast, and the same levels of joy and energy, neither approach would have had the same impact.
Every inch of Into the Spider-verse feels handcrafted and deliberate. The flip book effect created by its dropped frames, the use of offset images to create depth of field, the texture added by its procedural shader, the bold flashes of killer graphic design, Into the Spider-verse has a physicality to it that’s notably absent from the MCU’s CGI spectacles. To me, this is what makes it feel like an authentic comic book adaptation. The animation allows you to experience the pages the story is printed on.
I got a similar sensation during another film that I recently watched on Netflix, Jeremy Clapin’s ‘I Lost My Body.’ Although adapted from a novel written by Guillaume Laurant, the animated feature has the quiet, intimate feel of a mature graphic novel. It reminded me of reading Craig Thompson’s Blankets. If it hadn’t been animated, I don’t think it would have resonated with me in the same way. The artistic direction of a comic tells as much of a story as the script does.
I can see why studios are perhaps hesitant to turn to animation for comic book adaptations aimed at adults and teens. There are still plenty of people who assume both comics and cartoons are for kids. Unfortunately, that’s limiting the way we’re reinterpreting one of the most creative, experimental, and exciting storytelling mediums. If Into the Spider-verse has shown us anything, it’s that comic book adaptations have the power to redefine what’s possible in cinema and TV, but only if they’re willing to take the same creative risks as their printed counter-parts.
Spider-man: Into the Spider-verse will be available to stream on Netflix from October.
