The Gospel According to Spider-Man
Warning: this post contains spoilers for Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse
I am a passionate moviegoer all times of the year, but with the Oscars fast approaching, my inner Roger-and-Ebert quickly bursts forth with amazing ferocity as I consume every film I can get my hands on. You’d be amazed (or perhaps annoyed) at how frequently the words “brilliant cinematography” and “captivating storytelling” occur in my conversations around the end of Advent season each year.
For me, going to the movies has become somewhat of a weekly practice in low anthropology. On Sundays, I attend a worship gathering and partake of the Holy Communion, praising God for inviting me to His table through grace; and then I head to the local movie theater, serviced by acne-ridden teens and cursed with charmingly sticky floors, where I buy myself a ticket for Vice, and am reminded again why humanity is desperately in need of the saving grace of Jesus Christ.
Superhero movies have gotten a particularly large piece of the red-carpeted attention for the 2018 Oscar season, particularly the acclaimed Blank Panther, cited as a victory for minority representation in Hollywood. It made history in many other ways, including being the first superhero movie to receive a nomination for Best Picture. I watched Blank Panther and enjoyed it, but have to admit, I’m not a superhero movie junkie.
Quietly lurking in the shadow of Blank Panther was another superhero movie, nominated for Best Animated picture: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse, the latest Marvel production in the Spider-Man franchise. For some reason, I’ve always had a thing for Spider-Man. My relationship with Spider-Man has gone through many ups-and-downs, from my earliest connection with Tobey Maguire’s baby face and badly-acted arachnid hero through all of his character progression (including emo-Spider-Man phase), to the swoon-worthy smirk of Andrew Garfield’s Amazing Spider-Man, embodying the nerdy-but-cute stereotype we all love. Confession: I cried a monsoon of tears in the movie theater when I watched Andrew Garfield clutch his beloved Gwen Stacy’s dead body (*spoiler alert*).
In my years of film-watching, I came to realize that nearly every movie has at least some element of the Gospel narrative, and superhero movies are particularly guilty of this. It’s so easy to identify a Jesus-figure (normally the card-carrying ‘good guy,’ but not always) and the villain tropes are cliche, but that’s why we love them, right? We crave a Gospel narrative that reminds us that indeed, the city still needs saving, and that there is, indeed, Someone to save it.
The new animated film Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse evokes a sense of nostalgia; every scene erupts with color and movement, as if you’re flipping through the pages of a comic book. Speech bubbles and onomatopoeia (remember that one from English class?) burst out at the audience at constant intervals; the effect is almost dizzying, yet enchanting. In the story, Miles Morales, a teenager in Brooklyn, gets bit by a radioactive spider (duh), which gives him supernatural powers. Unlike his predecessors, though, Miles’ powers are unique: in addition to his spider-like abilities, he has the power to harness electric shocks, and he can turn invisible (the much-desired superpower of every teenager). He eventually converges with the other Spider-people who have entered his world, who are working together to defeat Kingpin, a villain with a festering emotional wound and a powerful atomic collider capable of creating inter-dimensional travel.
Yet Miles has no idea how to control his powers, and this continually becomes an issue in their attempts to defeat Kingpin. Miles’ fellow Spider-folk attempt to teach him the ropes (or the webs, I should say), and Miles starts to catch onto the tricks of the Spider-trade, imitating the others as best as he can; yet he is never able to harness his own powers. He merely is riding on the powers of the Spider-people who have gone before him. He self-defeats in his attempts to use his own powers because he is trying so hard to perform, to win the approval of his mentors.
I think we can all relate to Miles Morales. I spent a lot of my life riding on the tails of other people’s faith, getting tangled up in the spidey-webs of my sin and attempting to climb up metaphorical buildings to perform for God. I didn’t truly understand grace, of which I was a completely unworthy recipient (which makes me a totally perfect candidate for it). I was filled with pride and didn’t know my need for Jesus. I was great at performing for God.
The climax moment of the film comes when Miles is in his dorm room, his mouth and body bound ironically by his own Spidey-webbing. While the other Spider-people are out fighting Kingpin, he’s stuck, because he hasn’t figured out how to actually use the powers he has. In that moment, Miles’ dad comes to the door. He speaks kindly to his son, saying, “I see this spark in you, it's amazing...it's yours, and whatever you choose to do with it, you'll be great.” Though Miles’ can’t respond or answer the door, his father goes on to say, “I love you. You don't have to say it back, though.”
Moments after his dad walks away, Miles is able to harness his power of electric shock to break free of the webbing, and one moment later, Miles turns himself invisible on command. He’s finally figured out how to control his powers, only in the wake of his father’s words of love.
Until that scene, I thought this story was about Spider-Man saving Brooklyn from a villain. But it was actually about a father who loved a selfish, clueless, insecure son, who spoke the truth over him, and who extended unconditional love, so that the son could walk freely in the power he had received.
Though the Spider-people are from all different dimensions and time-periods, their stories all start the same: I was bit by a radioactive spider. I think that’s what the Gospel feels like. Out of nowhere, unexpected, I was bit. And when you get bit, you get supernatural powers (in a way). The Spirit of the living God lives in you, and gives you access to a supernatural power, not to walk up buildings or turn invisible, but the supernatural power to forgive, to love, to walk in grace. Those powers can only be unlocked by the words of our powerful loving Father, the Creator of all things. Even spiders.