Spider-Man 2

(2004, Dir.: Sam Raimi, with Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst, Alfred Molina)

I would not have imagined it, even though I've been a fan of Spider-Man since buying that copy of Marvel Tales with two (two! how could that be?) Spider-Men on its cover back in 1978, but the most emotionally true moment in film this year comes in this alternately dark and gaudy jewel, when the anonymous hands of New Yorkers reach out to gently retrieve the collapsing body of an unconscious, and maskless, Spider-Man.

The moment works because of what precedes it: a story that fronts its characters and understands the psychology that set Marvel Comics--and Spider-Man in particular--apart starting in the early 1960s. Fresh off rejecting lifelong love Mary Jane Watson and guiltily burying his Uncle Ben--moments ingeniously recapped in the opening credits with the assistance of esteemed comic book artist Alex Ross--Peter Parker's life has gotten worse, if that were possible. Fired from his job, living in an anti-Friends apartment, on the verge of failing out of school, and worst, alienating the people he loves with his erratic behavior. Although the film has a credible and menacing (yet sympathetic) villain in Dr. Octopus, the real conflict is between Peter Parker and Spider-Man.

Not since the brilliant five-minute fight sequence between Clark Kent and the evil Superman in the otherwise dreadful Superman III has the inner conflict of the superhero played out so well on screen (Batman never gets it quite right), or so fully. Spider-Man, as has been duly noted countless times, is well-liked because he is, well, like us. Tobey Maguire confirms his casting with an endearing performance that strikes a perfect balance between strength and vulnerability. His deft portrayal of Peter's uncertainty, even in such a frankly esoteric choice between being a superhero or not, strikes a chord because it reflects our own uncertainties, even, maybe especially, about the things that so thoroughly define us.

Like a good musician, director Sam Raimi understands that it is often the quiet moments that bind a work together emotionally. The action (and the effects are indeed better) is given the right amount of play, but the action is a result of the evolution of the characters, not the cause of it. The second time around, everyone seems that much more comfortable in their skins. Kirsten Dunst's Mary Jane carries her torch and wounds gracefully, and James Franco's Harry Osborn comes apart at the seams convincingly. The key newcomer, of course, is Alfred Molina as Dr. Otto Octavius, a genial man undone by overconfidence in his abilities, then taken a virtual prisoner by his creation. In that vein, Raimi smartly plays Dr. Octopus's creation as if it were a monster movie, complete with cutaway shots to cowering shadows on a wall and an operating room that takes on the aspects of a mad scientist's lab.

The humor in Spider-Man 2 flows more naturally than in the first film as well. Spider-Man's trademark wisecracks are sharper the second time around, J.K. Simmons chews up even more scenery as the irrepressible J. Jonah Jameson, and there's a scene in an elevator that ... well, it's priceless.

At the end of his review of the film, A.O. Scott of The New York Times writes that "Of course we need Spider-Man; the revelation of 'Spider-Man 2' is that he needs us, too." Following a heart-stopping fight atop an elevated subway track, the film reaches the apotheosis of this notion, as the central dilemma of identity is resolved in a moment of dire clarity: Peter Parker is Spider-Man is Peter Parker, defender of the people, who, lacking a shield, pass the wounded warrior down borne on their arms. It's quite right that in this movie with an everyman hero, it is a faceless, off-camera bit player who has one of the film's best, most touching lines, said with a combination of pity and awe, "He's just a kid." A kid, becoming a man.