Arcaneya

Category: Movies

  • The main issue with the Spider-man movies

    If you’ve ever come across Joseph Campbell’s work on the Hero’s Journey, you may be familiar with a stage called “The Magic Flight.” This phase occurs near the end of the hero’s journey. By this point, the hero has discovered their true self and, as a result, unlocked the inner power needed to overcome the darkness—or more precisely, what remains of it.

    In essence, the hero has conquered their smaller, ego-driven self, and as a reflection of that internal transformation, they are finally able to defeat the external evil. They become free.

    Herein lies the conundrum: in nearly all Spider-Man movies, we see Spider-Man swinging freely between buildings well before the midpoint of the story—at a time when, according to the classic Hero’s Journey, the hero should still be fearful and full of doubt.

    The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) also prematurely rewards Peter by having him get together with Gwen Stacy early in the film.

    But when a character has already achieved a sense of their greater self and even “found love,” what remains to motivate them to grow?

    Nothing. And without that motivation, the audience has little reason to stay emotionally engaged. There’s no tension, no internal struggle—just spectacle.

    This same issue applies to many modern hero movies: they rush the hero’s external transformation, leaving little room for meaningful development or deeper stakes.

    The Solution

    Make Spider-Man earn it.

    Let him struggle, deeply and relentlessly, throughout the film. Not just with external villains, but with his inner flaws—his pride, his anger, his impulsiveness, his need for validation. Make him work his ass off, not just physically, but emotionally and morally.

    From the midpoint onward, force him to confront himself. He should:

    • Apologize for every selfish action.
    • Forgive those who hurt him.
    • Let go of attachments—people, expectations, and the illusion of control.
    • Stop clinging to thoughts, ideals, or identities that no longer serve his growth.

    In other words, make him defeat his small ego self—the scared, insecure boy behind the mask. Only when he transcends that can he fully embody what Spider-Man is meant to represent.

    And only then—only when he has truly grown—should he be rewarded with his magical, web-supported flight. Not just as a flashy movement mechanic, but as a symbol: a moment of grace earned through suffering, discipline, and transformation.

    This is the kind of arc that sticks with audiences, because it’s not just about powers—it’s about meaning.



  • Borderlands 2024 – A Quick-Fix Take on the Start and Finish

    We know there are a lot of problems with the Borderlands plot. It’s a cliché-infested Frankenscript, and it would probably take years—or maybe even millennia—for a team of dedicated writers to get it under control. Unfortunately, we just don’t have that kind of time. Nor are we getting paid for it. So, we’ll just quickly address the beginning and the end, which could serve as good starting points for someone else to fill in the middle.

    Beginning

    First of all, lose the “Daughter of Eridia” prophecy. It’s vague and provides no real motivation.

    Then in the initial, cliché-ridden bar scene with Lilith, she should still take down the three middlemen in the same way—but they should have nothing to do with Deukalian Atlas. Also, wasn’t it satisfying to finally see someone take down the slow-clapping guy? And yet in this case, it didn’t even matter!

    Mr. Atlas would therefore need to be present in his human form. And because he’s staring down the barrel of a gun, he would have to be terribly sincere with his proposal.

    How much can you really trust a bad guy who offers above-average pay? I’d say not at all. Sincerity is the perfect way to shine a light through the early monotony and give the plot its initial momentum.

    Of course, Atlas could still shapeshift into a more fitting villain later on. And when he finally shows up on Pandora with his entourage at the end, give him a damn good reason why he couldn’t get there himself in the first place. Right now, he just comes off like Ashton Kutcher punking Lilith.

    Ending

    There was far too much nonsense crammed into the climax before the entrance to Pandora’s Vault. Let’s just say it outright: the key should have been based on pure heart, not pure blood.

    Once inside, the Atlas villain should meet his end by trying to absorb more knowledge than he can handle—more than he is capable of containing. Knowledge is light, and darkness simply cannot carry it. It’s the most obvious opportunity for an ending, served on a silver platter.

    Instead, they went with a stomach-turning conclusion. In the middle of this high-tech, holographic Pandora’s Vault, there’s conveniently a giant hole in the ground. Out of it, some squid-like tentacles emerge and drag Atlas down—because Lilith says “Bye bye.” Because… what? She has also become that thing? Another “chosen one” cliché, wrapped in nonsense.

    I’m sorry but I couldn’t handle more. I’m done.

    Ira