Hola all. Massawyrm here.

Okay, look. I know. There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing I can say. The die has been cast and regardless what a million different people say one way or the other, you already know whether or not you’re going to see Spider-Man 3. It’s part of a new and growing phenomenon called “Well, I’ve got to see it anyway” Syndrome. You know. It’s what made X3 such a huge success. Spider-Man 3 will be a huge, gaping success and will lead to everyone involved being offered a huge, obscene sum to return. And don’t get me wrong. That’s a GOOD thing. I want to see a Spider-Man 4. I just don’t want it to be much like Spider-Man 3.

That’s right. You see, while it is certainly nowhere near the epic train wreck that X3 was, Spider-Man 3 ain’t all that. It ain’t all that at all.

The first half is INCREDIBLE. I mean it is perfect. Every moment hits just right, playing every note perfectly. It’s funny. It’s touching. It is unbelievably badass. The origin of the Sandman. The appearance of the Hobgoblin. The rivalry with Eddie Brock. And most importantly, the push for Peter to propose to Mary Jane. Everything works. Everything puts a 10 kilowatt geek smile beaming right across your face. You will light up like a mother fucking Christmas tree and wonder WTF everyone is talking about when they complain about this film. They’re all fucking insane. This movie kicks ass! It’s so good, it takes Neil Cumpston levels of exaggeration to truly capture just how unbelievably, boner-iffic it is.

And then the unthinkable happens. For five minutes – five gut wrenching, heartbreaking minutes – the movie becomes epically awful. I mean terrible. Worst case scenario bad. You see, for two minutes the film suddenly becomes Saturday Night Fever. Peter Parker is dancing in the streets, strutting like a sweat hog, and genuinely making an ass out of himself. It’s funny. For all of seven seconds. Then the movie all of a sudden becomes The Mask Yes, that The Mask. There is this jaw dropping dance number in a club that will blow your fucking mind. In the shotgun sort of way. You won’t believe for a second that you’re watching the same movie.

It’s like having awesome, perfect, mind blowing sex with that girl that moved in next door that you’ve been rubbing off to for the last six months, and just as you’re about to reach that special moment, just as your eyes are about to roll into the back of your head as you cry out, she looks up with those big brown eyes of hers and with her pursed bee stung lips asks “Did you remember to call your mother today?” HUH? WHAT? WHAT THE…? No! No, no! Don’t think about mom, don’t think about mom, don’t think about mom! Stay hard, stay hard, stay hard! But it won’t. The moment’s over. Even as you get back in game mode, it’s never the same. You never quite get as excited as you were before. And for some reason your mind keeps wandering back to that awful moment. Over and over again that image pops into your mind. Mom. THAT’S what the second half of Spider-Man 3 is like.

Because once The Mask sequence is over…the movie resumes as if nothing had happened. But it never regains the momentum that it had before. The second half of the film is GOOD. But never GREAT. Never SOLID. It’s all over the place with a few wonderful moments flanked by some average ones and the occasional WTF moments.

But what really does this film in is exactly what everyone was afraid of. There simply are too many stories converging at once – and none of them feel like they’re properly fleshed out. And only one of them has an ending that is remotely satisfying. Which of course is the one storyline that shouldn’t have ended. It’s the one that should have led into the fourth film.

All in all, Spider-Man 3 is a disappointment, a real let down. But it’s not bad. Just not what it should be. I know, I know. You have to see it anyway. That’s cool. But I hope you go in with some lowered expectations. I really wanted this to rock hard – and hell, so did the whole audience I saw it with. But what entered as a theatre full of excited fans, later slogged its way out in relative silence.

Until next time friends, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em.

Massawyrm

God damnit. I’m gonna get letters about the hardon paragraph.
I just know it.
Just, just, just…just send them here.