Why Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse Is the Most Important Superhero Movie Ever.

Superhero stories are important as a metaphor. To discover what our strengths and gifts are, to learn how to use them, and then to apply these skills to make the world a better place—this is the life’s work of every one of us.

This is also the reason why, for me, the most memorable moments in superhero films are the moments when the superhero inspires ordinary people to heroism. Think Superman II, when the people of Metropolis believe General Zod has killed Superman and they pick up pieces of debris and attack him themselves. Think Spider-Man (2002), when pedestrians start throwing things at the Green Goblin and one of them calls out, “You mess with Spider-Man, you mess with New York!” Think Wonder Woman, when she’s in the trenches and demanding that they do something to save a village. Everyone else tells her not to go over the top, that it’s too dangerous, that she’ll be killed. But she does it anyway. And they follow her!

Yes, Diana is a virtually indestructible demigod. But the soldiers behind her aren’t. They follow her anyway.

I could write multiple blog posts about all the things Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse does well, but what really makes it stand out is that it is the first superhero movie to center this idea of the superhero as an inspirational figure. Miles Morales is a 13-year old African-American Puerto Rican in Brooklyn. He is a bright and likeable kid, saddled with typical 13-year old problems: stress at school, a difficult relationship with his father, awkwardness around girls. He also has a Superman poster in his bedroom.

We learn exactly how Miles sees himself early in the film, when he paints a graffiti mural: a colorful rendition of the word “expectations” with a silhouette of himself in the middle. “I get exactly what you’re doing,” his uncle says. Outside, Miles is surrounded by expectations. Inside is shadow. A black box. Not even Miles knows what’s there.

A moment later, Miles is bitten by a radioactive spider. You know the drill. He develops superhuman abilities, but must learn to master them, a great metaphor for puberty, which the film makes explicit. And he makes a fateful promise. For Miles, a promise is a sacred duty. But he doesn’t know how to fulfill it. He studies Spider-Man comic books for tips, then meets other spider-heroes, learns from them, masters his powers, and earns the title “Spider-Man.” Delightfully, the film announces this by putting a Miles Morales Spider-Man comic book on screen.

Miles does not blindly imitate the ways of the other spider-heroes. When he comes into his own, we see the influences of the others, but his moves are his own, just as his Spider-Man outfit is his own. “Don’t do it like me; do it like you,” Peter Parker advises him. (The line was in the trailer, but was cut from the film. No matter. The point is clear.)

By the end of the film, we have come full circle, as Miles demonstrates his newfound mastery of his spider-skills to a street full of grateful New Yorkers. The boy who once looked up to superheroes is now himself an inspiration. Perhaps the message is that becoming the best you can be is important not only for your personal fulfillment, but as an encouragement to those around you. Or, as Miles puts it at the end of his story, “I never thought I’d be able to do any of this stuff. But I can. Anyone can wear the mask. You can wear the mask. If you didn’t know that before, I hope you do now.”

That is the very best reason to make a superhero film. And the very best reason to go see one.