New Spider-Man Accurately Shows the Awkward Stage of a Superhero

Prepare to feel way better about your embarrassing teen years, thanks to the newest Spider-Man.  We’ve anticipated the third reincarnation of Spidey ever since his appearance in Captain America: Civil War, and, let’s be honest, we were real nervous about it.  However, Marvel answered our concerns with a surprisingly fresh take that shows a Spider-Man in transition.  I’m not just talking about the typical arc of an impatient young guy who learns from his mistakes and finds his “inner strength” and whatnot (though that’s definitely there).  I’m talking basic, practical, visceral teenage-hero awkwardness.

Let’s start with this: the costume change.  Deadpool gets the credit for first pointing out the cumbersome costume change that every other superhero film skips over, but Spider-Man also tackles the challenge in an alleyway as he struggles to shimmy into his costume.  (You’d think that Stark would have figured out a way to make that easier.)  Worse yet, he loses his backpack afterward.  While Deadpool’s costume change intends to satirize, Spider-Man’s simply portrays the less graceful side of a superhero-in-training.  This is a Spider-Man who tumbles through backyard bushes, falls from rooftops, and crashes into pools.  This is a Spider-Man who stumbles over everything and apologizes profusely as he’s doing it.  He’s not the smooth, wisecracking web-slinger that we have seen in the comics.  At least not yet.  And that’s the cool thing about Spider-Man: Homecoming.  It shows us what Peter Parker was probably like when he first started out.

Usually I put the movie poster here, but that's a Photoshop disaster so this is a picture of me at the theater instead

We had a taste of Peter's youthful excitement in Civil War, but apparently it was more extensive than we thought.  Homecoming reveals that Peter was taking behind-the-scenes video footage from the moment Tony recruited him to seconds before Peter was called into duty at the airport battle and beyond.  His curiosity and enthusiasm is endearing, and it makes so much sense for Peter to feel that way.  He’s young, and he wants to save the world as soon as possible.  Even my best friend, who’s a hardcore fan of Spider-Man, hadn’t seen this happy-go-lucky version of Peter before.  He’s silly in the best possible way.

The movie never lets us forget that Peter’s a sophomore in high school.  All the tropes are there to remind us of our own high school days.  Unrequited crush.  Invited to the cool kids’ party.  Homecoming gone wrong.  Peter’s best friend Ned also provides a fun dynamic.  On one hand he’s the confidant that reminds Peter that “you are a kid” as Peter gripes about Tony treating him like a child.  On the other hand he’s asking if Peter can lay eggs and summon a legion of spiders.  Boy, please.  Summoning insects is Ant-Man’s job.

Thankfully, Tony doesn’t dominate the movie like I was afraid he would.  Peter obviously aches for a father figure in Tony (I could think of better role models, honestly, but that’s a post for another time).  Tony pops in just often enough for the “fatherly” arc to make sense while still letting Peter come to his own conclusions and find his own path, which creates a nice coming-of-age narrative that we haven’t seen in the MCU yet.  Not only was Spider-Man: Homecoming a new, interesting take on Peter Parker, but also on Marvel movies as a whole.  I happily welcome the new Spider-Man, and I look forward to seeing the other ways that he develops in future films.

Ahsoka: A Star Wars Story

For fans of the animated series Star Wars: The Clone Wars, E.K. Johnston’s novel Ahsoka is required reading.  In the TV series, we saw Ahsoka Tano transform from the brash and sassy Padawan, to the experienced young general, to the Jedi who left the Order after a loss of faith.  Johnston continues the Ahsoka character arc we deserved in the tragically cancelled Clone Wars.  Ahsoka, who was already struggling to find her new place in the world, has become even more untethered now that most of the Jedi have been wiped out and she can no longer sense her former masters.

(Source: Wikipedia)

Ahsoka spends most of the novel on a moon called Raada in the outskirts of the galaxy, where she meets a small, quiet community of farmers - including a young woman named Kaeden.  I assume Kaeden is a black woman from the description of her skin color and hair, but what I know for sure is that Kaeden is the first (confirmed) gay character that I’ve come across in the Star Wars universe.  Kaeden’s unrequited feelings for Ahsoka are obvious to everyone except Ahsoka - which is unfortunate, but perhaps for the better since the Star Wars universe has not proven to be relationship-friendly.  Meanwhile, the Empire starts to wreak havoc on Raada, and Ahsoka has to navigate her secret identity and her desire to help people.  I liked getting inside Ahsoka’s head in a way that I never got to while watching her in The Clone Wars.  Because I was reading a novel, I could see her in her tactical mode, her meditations, and her moments of vulnerability in a more intimate setting.

I love how Ahsoka has come into her own in this novel.  She’s always had a strong tactical mind and sense of empathy, traits that she has had to sharpen without the guidance of Anakin or Obi-Wan.  However, she seems to have achieved a balance and control that Anakin never could.  Ahsoka keeps her emotions in check when she is strategizing for her survival or for a mission, but she allows her loyalty and emotional ties to her friends motivate her to save them despite personal risk.  She’s taken the best of Anakin’s heart and Obi-Wan’s mind to become a tempered, quick-thinking, and compassionate fighter under pressure.  It hurts to see how much she misses them.  But if nothing else, they trained her well.

Ahsoka leaves the Jedi Order
(Source: StarWars.com)

The novel is interspersed with flashbacks, mostly from Ahsoka but also from Anakin and Obi-Wan.  All of them will make you sad.  If you’re a masochist like me and want to increase your suffering, linger on the first flashback from Ahsoka featuring the old nickname “Snips” or, even worse, the flashback from Anakin: “Anakin had never put in for a Padawan of his own.  He didn’t want it to look like he was pushing Obi-Wan aside.  Now, Obi-Wan had gone and done it first, and Anakin still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.”  THESE ARE NOT THE TEARS YOU’RE LOOKING FOR. *sniffle*

During The Clone Wars, Anakin and Obi-Wan were like Ahsoka’s bickering adopted dads.  If you don’t believe me, check the Tumblr memes.  If you don’t believe the memes, check the scene where Kaeden's sister asks Ahsoka if her “adopted parents” ever fought and tell me if Ahsoka’s smile doesn’t crush your heart into itty bitty pieces.  The Jedi could talk all they wanted about no attachments, but when you’re Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan, there’s no avoiding them.  Ahsoka’s feelings about the ones she left behind paint the novel with a tender grief that heightens the tragedy in her life as well as Anakin’s and Obi-Wan’s lives.  Now, I don’t want to imply that Ahsoka merely serves as a boost for their story, because that would reduce her character to a prop, and anyone who’s familiar with her character will now that’s not who she is.  But their stories have always been and always will be intertwined.  Ahsoka allowed us to see the prequel trilogy's universe in a different light.  Hopefully, her presence in Star Wars Rebels and other Star Wars installments can help us see the original trilogy’s universe in a different light, too.

The best part of this book is that even after finishing it, I know Ahsoka’s story is not finished.  She’s not a Jedi.  She’s still figuring out what she will be instead.  And if anyone can relate to that, it’s a recent college graduate who has no job and no idea what she’s going to do with her life now that she’s not a student.  (Hint: that’s me.)  I think a lot of people can relate to her storyline, whether they’re having a mid-life crisis, a quarter-life crisis, or any other identity crisis.  Ahsoka shows us that even when you’re forging your own path, it’s okay to acknowledge what the past has done for you, and it’s okay to let go of that past.  One day at a time.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

When I watched Tim Burton’s film Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, I knew not to expect the book.  I’m glad that I didn’t.  I could appreciate the movie for what it was rather than what it wasn’t, while I also pulled out the parallels that did exist between the movie and the book.  As a result, I ended up liking both in their own right.

Ransom Riggs created a mixed-media book series that combined text with vintage photographs that he obtained from various collectors.  He created characters with semi-creepy powers from these semi-creepy photos and fabricated a fascinating nightmarish adventure that killed off characters left and right.  Tim Burton, surprisingly, dials back the dark tones in the books quite a bit in his interpretation.  He more or less follows the plot of the first book, but he wraps up the story with a neat, happy ending instead of a cliffhanger.

Source: Wikipedia

During the movie, I kept my eyes open to appreciate the elements from the book that did come to life, instead of fretting over what didn’t.  In return, I could see the peculiar spirit of the book - that feeling of being different, the eternal pause on childhood, and the shock of the fantastical becoming real and scary.  The first time I saw a hollowgast in the movie, I got the heebie-jeebies.  As much as I did like the book series, I also found the story intense, violent, and creepy compared to my usual fantasy novels.  The movie, meanwhile, treats the story with a quirkier and more lighthearted touch.  Burton added humor to the characters.  I laughed more during the movie than I remember laughing for Riggs’ three books combined.

Just look at the different color schemes between the film poster and book cover to get an idea of what I'm talking about.
Source: Wikipedia

Burton also did two interesting things to the main character Jacob’s love interest.  First, Burton downplayed Emma’s relationship with Jacob’s grandfather, making her current romantic involvement with Jacob way less icky.  Second, he changed Emma’s power from controlling fire to controlling air.  Compared to the book Emma, movie Emma is softer, gentler, less in your grill.  She floats on air instead of spitting fire in everyone’s face - which, to be honest, I missed.  I couldn’t help but wonder if Burton changed her character because she was too “aggressive” as a female character.  If so, he missed the fact that she’s also the most grounded character, believing in Miss Peregrine and in Jacob so steadfastly that she gives the other characters the courage they need to face the horrors around them.  She feels deeply, and even though she is confrontational, she is also vulnerable.  All of those dimensions are skimmed over or ignored in Burton’s movie.  Part of it comes at the price of condensing the story to 100 minutes.  The other part comes from Burton’s different sensibilities.  I liked picking out the differences between the Emma’s, weighing the good and bad in both versions and thinking about what I value most in a female character.  I’ll be honest though, even if I miss the fire, that movie scene where Emma blasts water out of an entire submerged ship with just her lung power was pretty amazing.  Definitely not in the book.

Also gone in the Burton movie is the plot about Miss Peregrine’s brothers being the ones to create the wight and hollowgast problem in their pursuit of immortality.  The oldest brother Caul in particular inspires a peculiar movement, mostly among males, against ymbrynes like Miss Peregrine who keep peculiar children in eternal loops to protect them from the outside world.  His followers claim that the powerful ymbrynes, who are all female, infantilize and oppress peculiar people.  Riggs makes no hesitation to point out that Caul’s behavior stems from jealousy that his sister is stronger and more powerful than he could ever be.  His rhetoric, frankly, reminded me of men’s rights activists.  The subtle conversation about gender dynamics in peculiardom was unexpected, particularly from a male author.  Unfortunately it becomes lost in the hands of a male director.  Granted, I understand why Burton would cut out Caul from the narrative since he stuck to one movie instead of three, but I still feel like he missed an opportunity.

So, how do the book and movie of the peculiar world compare?  The answer to that question doesn’t matter as much as the fact that movie-watching is a lot more fun when you aren’t prepared to criticize it from the onset.  In the case of Miss Peregrine, I wouldn’t call the movie “worse,” but “different.”  In this case, whether you should read the book instead is up what you want.  If you want the peculiar feel of the story without going quite as deep or dark, the movie’s the way to go.  If you want to dive into the nuance and fearsomeness as well as the gender dynamics of Riggs’ world, the books are your way in.  Or maybe you try both because you’ve got a lot of time on your hands.  Like me.