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We love cinema.
I told Taofeek we had to see Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse together, for my third viewing. Taofeek and I are movie people — we go the grand IMAX theatre for the size and volume. When Ludwig Goransson cooked in Oppenheimer, we heard the sizzling clearly; when in Black Panther Namor ascended, in a diaper, with two flapping wings on his heels, he was enormous.
Taofeek relishes the thrill of seeing the same sequences and sharing the same reactions as hundreds of people. He believes that fascinating, spectacular movies should be a collective experience. I agree. I live for the reactions, the knowing glances, the ta-dah.
Towards the end of our viewing, Taofeek asks to use the bathroom, but I urge him not to. I do not want him to miss the big reveal. Wait for it, I say. Wait. And ta-dah, the same dread I experience in my first viewing dawns on him too. What? Miles is in the wrong universe! I see the confusion in his face, then the amazement, and I am content. I stand on a cliff, sigh and stare down at my grateful universe.
Across the Spider-Verse.
Across the Spider-Verse is phenomenal. Into the Spider-Verse, the first instalment of Marvel’s animated Spider-Man trilogy, was incredible; and somehow, this installment floors it. It is well, deftly, and intricately done. Intricately. It must have taken some time.
Always, good animation takes time. The Riot Games show, Arcane, is peak animation — bold visual style, endlessly complex characters, engaging story and unique world. The first season was released in 2021 and I recently learnt that I would have to wait until Q4 2024 for the second season. Weeks ago, Riot Games CEO Nicolo Laurent explained that the series was in no hurry to return, and that a 2023 release was not possible because the animation team wanted to match the quality of Season 1. Fair enough. However, the three year wait for Season 2 is not nearly as long as the six year production period for the first season!
I was amazed to learn that the sequence where the spider people chase Miles in Across the Spider-Verse took four years to complete. Animated movies are a product of a lengthy process and hundreds of animators. Across the Spider-Verse had the largest crew of any animated film ever, with around 1,000 people working on it. Perhaps because it has 240 characters and takes place across six universes.
Taofeek salutes the dedication of the animators and agrees that Across the Spider-Verse is the best made animated movie of all time.
The patience to make great things.
Taofeek and I often discuss a concept — one I now refer to as the patience to make great things. Essentially, we believe that if a true creative sticks with an original idea for just long enough, steadily gathers all the resources available to them, and takes their time to design and join the intricate parts, they will make something undeniably good. We always believed that we were capable of great art if we took our time in isolation. We understand that the best books and scripts are a product of extensive editing; the final draft is an embarrassingly great improvement on the first.
Taofeek believes that time is a fundamental resource in filmmaking. He explains that even seasoned professional screenwriters could need six months to complete a good first draft. And then, the actor would need time to properly research their character and prepare. After Steven Spielberg asked Daniel Day-Lewis to play Lincoln, he gave him a whole year to prepare. James Cameron wrote the first treatment for Avatar in 1994/95, and the first instalment was released in 2009. The scripts for Avatar 2, 3, 4 and 5 were complete as of 2012 but Avatar 2 was only released in 2022 because while the story had been ready for years, the technology was not!
Taofeek stresses that patience is a non-negotiable, bare minimum requirement. He discusses William Goldman, one of the most accomplished screenwriters in history, who wrote in his book, Adventures in the Screen Trade, that it takes about seven categories of professionals working at their best to make a good movie, and even with all seven, you might still end up with something bad.
He tells me that with animation, the wait is imperative. Because you do not have Daniel Day-Lewis to deliver career best performances. It is all animated — every frame, close-up, complicated stunt, and emotive scene. It is painting in motion. So, if it is done well enough to provoke an emotional connection with the characters, it may be the closest thing to magic in the film industry!
But patience is not cheap.
However, as Taofeek and I acknowledged in those many table conversations at our shared house in 2020, not everyone can afford the patience to make great art. In Q4 2020, we gathered in Ibadan, Nigeria’s largest city, with three other close friends, to study for the Nigerian Bar Exams. We would sit at the dining table for hours to religiously practice past questions on laws and legal scenarios. But we admitted to ourselves that we were probably creatives at heart who would chase another line of work if we had more privilege. We were the first (male) children of religious, middle-class, Nigerian families. We had to be lawyers; we had to pursue the career path, one which we had begun with keenness, to a logical conclusion. Passion is a privilege. We could not afford to fail; we did not have the social safety net.
In this 2017 address by Mark Zuckerberg, he honestly explained that the greatest successes come from having the freedom to fail. “If I had to support my family growing up instead of having time to code, if I didn’t know I’d be fine if Facebook didn’t work out, I wouldn’t be standing here today,” he said. He was right. Taofeek and I understood that the most notable creatives and founders had sufficient social security (so they could afford to fail) or absolutely none (so they had nothing to lose). We did not have six months or a year to exclusively pursue uncertain creative endeavors. Work opportunities would leave us behind, no one would fund our lives. We would literally starve, our families would be embarrassed.
The brilliance of universes.
Taofeek and I discuss the multiverse. As I wrote in Notes on Cinema 02, I am in awe of minds that create entire universes for their stories, endowed with new life forms, ecosystems, languages, cultures and conflict. Taofeek is fascinated as well, he says that a bit of insanity is required to achieve this. He cites R.R. Martin as a modern example and enthuses about how Westeros fees too real to not be true!
In Notes on Cinema 02, I remarked that while the fans live in one world, the Marvel Universe lives in many at once. The idea of a multiverse is fascinating. If you are a fan of Spider-Man, it must be thrilling to see so many spider people — so many unimaginable variants. It is manna from heaven, a cloud of meatballs. The idea offers boundless possibilities to writers. As in Loki, you may create interesting interactions and conflicts among variants, provoking existentialist questions in the minds of audiences: Would you like to meet your variant? What would you think of them? The multiverse also means that you can change characters, storylines, and actors relatively easily. Or you can combine them. Toby Maquire, Andrew Garfield and Tom Holland thrill in the same scene? How? Ta-dah, the multiverse!
Taofeek does not regard the multiverse as some novel invention. He explains that it is simply an extension of comics tradition. He is right. Multiple earths — each with its own versions of Marvel superheroes — have existed for decades in comics, allowing for different iterations of the same superhero.
Across the Spider-Verse is outstanding in its depiction of the multiverse. It effectively mixes different animation styles and messes with your understanding of 2D and 3D. Hundreds of characters were drawn differently — using distinct ways of drawing lines, shapes, sizes and shadows, to glaringly signify to us that they are from different universes. It is brilliant.
Miles and canonicity.
Beyond its style, Across the Spider-Verse is impressive in the way it explores its theme. Although it unravels late, the central theme of the movie is canonicity. The audience learns that there are certain events in the life of spider people which are fixed events, they must happen. There is a similar narrative in most time-travel movies: certain things must happen or the whole universe crumbles. In this movie, the canon for spider people is that even though they generally save people, a few dear ones must die in all universes — their parents, Uncle Ben, Aunt May, or the NYPD Chief. In the Third Act, Miles is presented with a dilemma — save your father (who is about to become the NYPD Chief) and risk destroying all universes, or let your father die and save all universes (or more accurately — do not destroy all universes). Miles immediately disagrees and flees, resulting in that incredible chase scene.
Miles’ rejection of the inevitable is somewhat profound. He refuses to allow things happen as they should and is immediately committed to stop them from happening. Lady Horatia writes that the canonicity in Across the Spider-Verse touches on the destiny of the individual, “the life we are told to live by others, by society, by time itself, by the universe”. The abject refusal to accept this truth which you are told is immovable and instead deciding to forge your own path is a very powerful theme.
Cinema reflects life, and in our interactions with time and space, humans have always been fascinated by predestination — the idea that God or the universe has a script for our life, and so, all or some of its scenes will always work according to this script; and even when we possess the disruptive power of time-travel, for some vague reason or another, we cannot change certain things. We cannot stop Hitler or Judas Iscariot, for instance.
The third instalment, Beyond the Spider-Verse, which hopefully releases in 2024, will confirm if canonicity is as sacred as we think. We observe in this movie that Gwen’s father resigns as police chief and will no longer die as a result. Gwen realizes that choices can change reality after all. Taofeek argues that canon events are created in the first place, so who is to say that Miles cannot create a new timeline of events? My theory is that since Miles was not meant to be Spider-Man in the first place (only bit by a radioactive spider from another universe) he is not bound by the canon.
Brilliantly, Lady Horatia explains that Across the Spider-Verse also possesses a meta narrative — it rejects the modern way we see stories and adhere to coherence. Canon limits the story-telling potential of any pre-established story into adhering to a structure, a form, a set of conditions which were written a long time ago. This limits creativity, art. A writer cannot tell a story they want for fear of upsetting or changing the canon. This fear limits the stories being told, as it makes one fit to a formulaic structure instead of expanding beyond the limits previously established.
They would not let Zack Snyder make Rebel Moon into a new Star Wars movie because there are middle aged men who insist that Star Wars movies of the 2020s stick to the original themes and characters of the 1980s. Audiences demand that fairy tales adhere to their original narrative, or some vague, nebulous, historical realism concept which is just an excuse for racism and sexism. Why must the Little Mermaid remain white? The Little Mermaid never existed!
Across the Spider-verse embodies a strong rejection of control and structural systems which limit imagination. If, in turn, we are to embody the themes of Across the Spider-Verse, we are to reject canons and tell our stories. Like Miles daringly says: imma do my own thing!
Is animation cinema?
Across the Spider-Verse might be the best movie I have ever seen. Yes, over and above the live action in my library. Animation is not a genre for kids; it is a medium for art, film. At least, according to acclaimed director, Guillermo Del Toro, while delivering his acceptance speech for Best Animated Film at the BAFTA ceremony. His iteration of 1940's Pinocchio, was also nominated for Best Production Score and Best Score.
Is animation cinema? Are comic book adaptations?
Veteran directors like Martin Scorcese and Francis Ford Coppola continue to weigh in on “the glut of franchise and comic book entertainment.” In 2019, Scorcese stated that Marvel movies are “not cinema and are more like theme parks.”
In Notes on Cinema 02, I express my frustration with critics who say comic book movies are implausible, unrealistic because they are not biopics, or tired retellings of social injustice. People erroneously believe that art is more valuable and meaningful when it is conterminous, momentous, “real”. I disagree. I argue that no subject is intelligent or meaningful intrinsically, what we should consider intelligent is how that subject is discussed, portrayed by specific people.
The best comic book movies are in fact plausible. They are realistic within the rules of science and magic they create for themselves. We, the fans, understand. It is explained to us, concretely. Yes, there are aliens, superheroes, gods, eternals, celestials. But in the end, they are all animate characters whose motivations are relatable. People often say, “well, animation is not real” and I wonder what is. If a live-action does not say “based on true events” at the beginning, then, honey, it is not real. It did not happen.
Animation is nearly capable of telling stories as well as live action. The defining difference is that live action is portrayed by real people who look like us, so our emotional connection to them is likely to be stronger. I believe that animation reaches the same depths as live-action, and I readily cite profound titles from Disney’s Pixar, for instance.
In addition, if we follow Coppola’s definition — that we gain some enlightenment, some knowledge, or some inspiration from “cinema”, then Marvel movies should be considered cinema. Valerie Jones writes that the lessons are there, even though they are wrapped up in entertainment. “At a basic level, the stories are about right and wrong, good and evil, how people should behave. There are lessons in there about justice, about the law, about how we should treat each other.”
Taofeek jokes that animation is cinema because without it, Disney would not exist. I think that the argument about animation and comic book adaptations is generational. Martin Scorcese is 80, I am 26. My childhood was full of animation — it provided some of the most memorable stories and characters of the millennial generation. Think about Lion King, Mulan or Shrek. Your only knowledge of these wonderful stories is from animation. How would you convince me that these do not constitute cinema? What discriminate criteria would you use? I have said plenty about James Cameron’s film, but when you hear “Avatar”, you do not think of blue people, but Aang, Korra and Sokka. You remember their world, its dynamics and moral conflict.
The super-hero fatigue.
However, while comic book adaptations have dominated cinema in the past two decades, from Sami Rami’s Spider-Man to Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, to the Marvel Universe begun by Iron Man, there is cause for concern following the questionable quality of new releases.
In Notes on Cinema 03, I noted that the 2021–2023 Marvel releases have not offered any consolation or revival. Unfortunately, Marvel peaked in Infinity War. Much has gone wrong ever since. Taofeek and I saw Ant-Man: Quantumania together, and as I noted, we slapped our faces and sighed throughout the viewing. It would later become a commercial failure (476 million USD compared with a budget of 200 million USD), at least in comparison to the MCU’s usually high standards. Thor: Love and Thunder fared worse. I would not know where to begin with my criticism of DC’s Black Adam or Shazam: Fury of the Gods.
Is there a comic book/superhero fatigue?
Are we tired of air-borne caped crusaders? There seems to be a proliferation of comic book content, following the introduction of numerous Marvel shows in 2021. After Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), we waited three years for the mesmerizing beauty that is Infinity War (2018) and another year for the commercial success that is Endgame (2019). It used to be special, you know. Taofeek does not agree that there is too much content, he says there is “disjointed stuff”. We wonder if movies are no longer well done, if they are rushed to meet commercial deadlines, if there is no patience to make the undeniably good.
In April, Marvel director and DC executive, James Gunn, argued that while there is such a thing as superhero fatigue, it does not have anything to do with superheroes, but the kind of stories that get to be told, and if you lose your eye on the ball, which is character. The key is therefore pushing these characters and personal stories to the forefront instead of just thinking about them as tools to create good action scenes. According to Gunn, if you do not have a story at the base of it, just watching things bash each other, no matter how clever the designs and the VFX are, it just gets fatiguing. I agree, and if nothing else, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 was a grounded improvement on other 2023 releases.
The underrated art of voice acting.
Within the conversation about the value of animation, is of course that about voice acting. I ask Taofeek if it is an underrated art form. In mainstream Hollywood, only the Annie Awards recognizes accomplishments in amination, and there is just one category for Outstanding Achievement for Voice Acting. I wonder if there should be more categories, awards.
I recognize that I have witnessed some phenomenal voice acting. Think of Regina King as both Huey and Riley Freeman in The Boondocks. Think of Steve Carell as Gru in Despicable Me, Eddie Murphy as Donkey in Shrek, Seth MacFaralane as four characters in Family Guy, James Earl Jones as Mufasa in The Lion King (and as Darth Vader in Star Wars).
Taofeek notes that the casting of voice actors has become more of a marketing tool for animated movies, as popular faces are prioritized over skill. According to him, in the past, actors specialized in voice acting and did not bother trying to act for the screen. It is sad news for professional voice actors — that some on-screen actors are also skilled with their voice. We are fans, we want to hear Oscar Isaac as Miguel O’Hara, Haile Steinfield as Gwen Stacy, Daniel Kaluuya as Spider-Punk, Brian Tyree Henry as Jess Morales, Issa Rae as Spider-Woman, Shameik Moore as Miles Morales, Lauren Velez as Roi Morales. I agree with Taofeek but I believe that regardless of the actors, the art form of voice acting is still distinct, deserving of its own appreciation.
Black and Latino representation.
To our delight, there is obviously a lot of colour in Across the Spider-Verse, both on-screen and in the recording booths. Taofeek agrees that the Black and Latino representation is a masterstroke by the studio executives, who must realise that repetition is boring. He jokes that there is a limited number of white Disney princesses we can tolerate, no matter how many icebergs they create. We agree that Coco and Soul were very refreshing releases.
I am often in arguments with people who cry, “Hollywood is trying to force inclusion down our throats!” [Oh, they do not call it “inclusion”, but “Helgeebeeteeque hagenda”.] I remind them that they have complete agency over the media they choose to consume. Importantly, it is useful to realize that diverse people exist: people are Black, Latino, plus size, queer, socialist. If cinema reflects life, and we are reasonable enough to understand that people who are different from us live amongst us and deserve representation in media, then we would not call it agenda but representation. If there was no progress in cinema, we would still be seeing middle-aged white men in wigs and blackface. And I consider it a curious thing — when minorities, who benefit from inclusion, wish to limit the representation of other minorities, as if to say “Stop the count! Do not go any further. This is the extent of diversity we are comfortable with!” It is ridiculous. I am bemused by the African scholar/professional who understands the affirmative action that gets him to foreign institutions/workplaces, but not that which wishes to bring African women into male dominated industries.
When in 2011, Marvel announced Miles Morales as its Black and Latino Spider-Man, controversy predictably followed. Alas, this completely fictional character could not possibly be coloured. But as few commentators argued, Spider-Man of the 1960s might in fact be the first “black” superhero, since his backstory — raised by extended family, growing up in poverty and demonized by the media was more relatable to the Black New Yorkers.
Regina Marie Mills writes that Latino characters have traditionally been underrepresented in mainstream comics, but Spider-Man’s backstory makes him the perfect superhero to be recast as a minority. She reveals that Miles Morales, the Afro-Puerto Rican Spider-Man, first appeared in comic book form in 2011, while Irish-Latino Spider-Man, Miguel O’Hara, first appeared in the 1990s. She explains that Spider-Man has been a popular character in Latin America since he first appeared in his own series, Amazing Spider-Man in 1963, and that his popularity is perhaps due to the fact that he is scrappy, hardworking and trying to help his family.
Miles Morales might turn out to be the most loved Spider-Man, at least for viewers of colour. Latino media scholar Isabel Molina-Guzman notes that while race complicates Hollywood casting and writing, Black and Latino viewers reacted positively to Morales, and that the movie also invites longtime fans and audiences to stand in Miles Morales’ space and root for the mixed-race teen trying to save the world.
However the third installment of the Spider-Verse trilogy turns out, Spider-Man remains the most popular superhero of all time. Taofeek and I agree that the reason is his relatability. The hack of the Spider-Man franchise is the depiction of the most relatable superhero. He was not born with fantastical powers on faraway Krypton or Asgard; he is not an idle, self-righteous billionaire; he does not rip people into bits with adamantium claws, he ties them up in webs and swings away instead. He is a poor orphan, upon whom superpowers were imposed by some thoughtless spider, who then takes on the responsibility of protecting his neighborhood. He is struggling in school, helplessly in love, conflicted about his identity. And these days, he is Black, fighting predestination, in a beautiful, multicolored multiverse.
Congratulations to the WGA!
