Despite being part of the largely oversaturated, densely homogenised superhero genre, 2018’s Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse has had an impact impossible to deny. Most of this lies within its groundbreaking, comic-book infused aesthetic style which has been embraced (appropriately or otherwise) in films from The Mitchells vs. the Machines to Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. Yet I think an underappreciated aspect of the Oscar-winning film is its impeccable storytelling, with a structure so tightly woven that its emotional beats are some of the most iconic in recent years. Therefore, I want to consider Into the Spider-Verse’s storytelling and compare it to its recently released sequel Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, which surprisingly adopts a near-antithetical approach.
The first thing that stands out when first watching Into the Spider-Verse is, well, everything. It’s a bit of an overwhelming experience, with radical new art styles and a veritable smorgasbord of origin stories all tied together in just under two hours. Yet its accessibility is one of its greatest strengths, not only in its core message that “anyone can wear the mask”, but also that it trusts its audience in a smart way. The film is undeniably postmodern as the filmmakers know we have seen origin stories before, with the repeated motif of quick voiceover montages being used to set up most of the Spider-People from other universes. However, these montages also provide context to those lucky enough to be unfamiliar with the glut of superhero franchise blockbusters of the modern day, doing so in a genuinely funny way. The film never bores – not just making the origin stories quick, but also highly entertaining through these fast-paced comedic exposition sequences. But despite its relatively short runtime for movies today, the film does take its time to breathe, establishing rules and motifs so that even when Spider-Ham (a talking pig called Peter Porker) turns up, the audience can go along with it without feeling completely lost.
But to call this accessibility innovative is somewhat of a misnomer. Into the Spider-Verse is one of my favourite films of all time, but I know it didn’t invent using call-backs and motifs to set up important story beats. Instead, I think what the film does best is refining storytelling conventions and techniques to make them work in a postmodern setting. I would class the film as subversive and unique, but looking exclusively at its overarching structure reveals its roots in classic storytelling. It essentially follows the structure of the Hero's journey monomyth as proposed by Joseph Campbell in The Hero with a Thousand Faces, laying out a series of events to provide a satisfying journey. The influence of this structure is vast, cited by figures from George Lucas to that one video essay you watched on YouTube. The main beats of this approach – the routine world, the mentor figure, the refusal of the call and more – are all present not only within most conventional Hollywood narratives, but also within Into the Spider-Verse. Yet what makes the film’s storytelling so unique and successful is the way it makes subtle changes to maximise the impact of these beats. Yes, Miles lives in a routine world but this world already has a Spider-Man and superheroes. Yes, Miles has a mentor but he’s killed, replaced by a heavily flawed role model who’s clearly past his prime. Yes, Miles overcomes his fears before the third act, but he’s not perfect after that. The leap of faith sequence is so incredible because Miles isn't a flawless hero following it – he still struggles to swing in places – but he knows he can improve and that he deserves to be Spider-Man. These beats we’ve seen time and time again are followed, but never taken at face value. The filmmakers understand that screenwriting conventions exist for a reason, but should be analysed and refined to make them work even better. This makes Into the Spider-Verse feel so brilliant and fresh, but also makes it intriguing that Across the Spider-Verse does something completely different.
Moreso than its predecessor, Across the Spider-Verse is about storytelling. At one point, Miles shouts out that he wants to control how his story is being told, wanting to go beyond the stereotypical representations and conventions associated with his background. It’s a film which yearns to go beyond the typical structures and conventions of Hollywood storytelling, and this is demonstrated from its opening sequence. As Gwen states in her opening narration, Across the Spider-Verse is another superhero story, but told a little differently this time.
A great demonstration of this comes from a single simple question: who is the protagonist of Across the Spider-Verse? It’s a more complex issue than you might think. On a surface level, it’s clearly Miles – he was the main character in the last film and the story largely follows his story and life. But Miles’ story is intertwined with another, someone with similar struggles which forms the basis of their relationship. Miles isn’t where the story begins, as the film opens in Gwen’s universe through an extended prologue exploring her backstory and induction into the Spider Society. Her introduction retells the events of the previous film, beautifully using a train to visually portray these plot points as ethereal memories. By the end of the film, it’s only really Gwen’s story which gets a proper “Hollywood” resolution thanks to its cliffhanger ending (more on this later). Miles and Gwen’s relationship is a driving force of the film, with the narrative allotting time to them near equally in the first hour. But Hollywood screenplays have a single protagonist. There is the main character whose arc is the forefront of the narrative. Even in ensemble films or rom-coms, there is usually the character who we follow the most, who grows the most and who can be considered the overall hero. Whilst ultimately this dilemma can be resolved (I think Miles really is the protagonist personally), it sets a precedent for the downright subversive storytelling of the film as a whole.
Across the Spider-Verse is fascinating too because it takes time to breathe, moreso certainly than Into the Spider-Verse. This is mostly necessitated by the film being very clearly “Part 1”, followed by Beyond the Spider-Verse next year, but it nevertheless takes its time to establish characters and make you care for them. Throughout the film, there are scenes of domestic issues – Miles missing meetings, keeping his parents waiting, his father’s own insecurities – which dominate the runtime. These don’t feel like structural requirements, necessary beats in the journey so we can move to the next action sequence. Instead, they organically set up critical plot points and themes, a more natural-feeling and mature approach than most superhero films with an older target audience. The filmmakers trust in their audience and ability to make you care for the characters, so much so that the audience I watched the film with (a packed cinema in the middle of a school holiday) never seemed to get bored between superhero sequences despite the film’s slower pace. The efficient yet accessible pace of *Into the Spider-Verse’*s narrative is replaced with something more meditative, moving away from the monomyth storytelling approach to carefully expand the scope of its world and its principal cast of characters. Don’t get me wrong, the film can switch to a high octane, nearly-overwhelming maximalist style – throwing Web-Slinger (a cowboy Spider-Man who rides a mask-wearing horse), Spider-Rex (a T-Rex dressed in a Spider-Man costume) and Spider-Cat (does what it says on the tin) at you within thirty seconds of each other. But there are many moments when this zany, insane pace slows down to let the narrative breathe.
All of this being said, the elephant in the room surrounding Across the Spider-Verse’s narrative will always be its status as a “Part 1” movie. Seemingly a recent trend in Hollywood – with Avengers: Infinity War, Dune: Part One, Fast X, and the upcoming, brilliantly titled Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One – this leads to the film’s narrative feeling somewhat unfinished for me. The aforementioned slow pace feels like a symptom of this in places, stretching out the plot as opposed to Into the Spider-Verse’s satisfying and complete story. Yet weirdly, the film’s cliffhanger ending is perhaps where it sticks most closely to conventional Hollywood narratives. To avoid spoilers, all I’ll say is that its ending sets up an interesting new equilibrium for both Gwen and Miles, resolving the former’s main arc whilst introducing an engaging new obstacle for the latter to face. I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed by this ending – especially as I felt the film was going to end for the last half an hour of its runtime – but it suits the story well. The film invites rebellion – against the Spider Society, against the norms of animation, against our preconceived notions of a multiverse story, and against conventional storytelling structures as a whole. Across the Spider-Verse innovates, in ways both similar and dissimilar to Into the Spider-Verse before it.
I think this new storytelling approach stems from the success of Into the Spider-Verse. When that film was released in 2018, the multiverse was a new concept and paired with this film’s undoubtedly innovative aesthetic approach, a grounded and familiar structure was required. In 2023, Everything, Everywhere, All At Once won Best Picture and animation has developed so much in the pop culture landscape that Across the Spider-Verse could take some risks in its storytelling style. Whilst the sequel undoubtedly evolves the aesthetic style of animation as a medium in a similar way to its predecessor, it does so too in terms of structure and storytelling. I may prefer the perfectly structured nature of the first film, but I admire the bravery of *Across the Spider-Verse’*s storytelling. In an oversaturated world of densely homogenised superhero blockbusters, it’s awe-inspiring to see a sequel take such unique creative risks.
