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.