The vice-like grip Sony has on Spider-Man villains is its ace in the hole. While it may have no clue what to do with the likes of Morbius and Venom, they are trying to keep hold of what they have. Holding the rights to this universe but not its titular character flags more than a few issues which, to their credit, have been adapted to as best it can be. They are the last stand against the tide of dull CGI and lifeless quantities Marvel provides, though Madame Web marks a tremendous argument to shutter the studio. Dakota Johnson has made it no secret her involvement in the film baffles everyone, including herself. Madame Web exists as a devolution of the superhero genre. Renounce the slump of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and make do with the barbed cults of spider people.
Ultimately Madame Web is an awful offering – not just for its headache-inducing visual flashes but for the lack of power it holds yet another origin story. The pace at which producers have marked these superhero appearances means the barrel is near empty. Adam Scott in a supporting performance to tie in the elusive Spider-Man in a series of paramedic scenes which display signs of urgency but lack the pace and tone to place it – showcases the problem for Madame Web. Johnson is expectedly robotic. Nobody can blame her for this though she plays it off as the mundanity of saving lives in the first act before it spills into an uncomfortable, leather jacket-wearing Johnson manoeuvring through the streets of New York.
Saddled with three children along the way to heighten the drama and bring on some faux intensity as the lights of a train flicker or Cassandra Webb (Johnson) hunts down her origins. She is still searching, as is director S.J. Clarkson. Tahar Ramin may win awards for how lacklustre his portrayal of villainous Ezekiel Sims is. Had it been a decade and a half ago, Madame Web would still find itself suffocating beneath the likes of Daredevil and Elektra. At least those latter examples had a contemporary heart to them, even if they feel dated now. Dated is better than dead on arrival, which Madame Web suffers from. The well is running dry, and bumping off villains with Pepsi Cola brand deal signs is not the big win Clarkson believes she has on her hands here. But this is the pipeline she has been shunted into by producers keen to replicate the Marvel formula.
Doing so with a sleeker Hollywood appeal instead of the endless green screens is in Madame Web’s favour, though everything else works against it. Having the muscle to create these interesting spectacles on location leaves Madame Web with a massive, heart-shaped hole it never fills. Characters which feel beyond mundane, particularly the supporting work of Sydney Sweeney and Celeste O’Conner and the trivialisation of their characters as stereotypes. Madame Web fails to make its characters human and leaves behind this misaligned, half-baked time travel spectacle. Just about everyone knew this would be a disaster, and it is a credit to Sony for powering through anyway, the retro horrors of 2003 plugged away as life-changing moments are made to feel like chores and not the potential for larger thoughts. No room for that in the empty shell of Madame Web.
