It’s difficult to know where to lay the blame with the disaster that is Madame Web. It’s a comic book adaptation which sits awkwardly but noticeably adjacent to both the MCU and the various incarnations of Spider-Man. It’s an origin story that barely manages to make a single character memorable or believable, and delivers barely a hint of what is heavily implied in the marketing.
Perhaps it’s worth beginning with the scriptwriters? The story of Cassandra Web (Dakota Johnson), an acerbic New York EMT who gains superhuman power from a Peruvian spider’s bite, appears decent enough on the face of it. She starts having futuristic flashes, one of which sees well-dressed supervillain Ezekiel (Tahar Rahim) murder a trio of teenage girls. In trying to help, she finds herself on the run from the authorities, as well as Ezekiel himself. She must plumb the depths of her dead mother’s past to find out how it all fits together.
The trouble is that the script is cumbersomely clunky, teeming with repetitive exposition, flat dialogue, and yet virtually no characterisation beyond the most basic. It’s also clear that the writing team, including director S.J. Clarkson, producer Claire Parker, and indie writer Kerem Sanga, seems to be trying to bluntly rework The Terminator, as the ‘change the future’ concept, the plot structure, some set pieces, and even some whole shots are imperfectly copied straight from Jim Cameron’s sci-fi classic. It’s simply badly written, on any consideration, and is that a surprise with the rest of the writing team being those responsible for the other recently lamented Sony-Marvel train wreck, Morbius, and the terrible flops, Gods of Egypt, Dracula Untold, and The Last Witch Hunter?
Are the actors to blame? It’s hard to lay much fault there. There isn’t one or even a few bum performances in the movie. Instead what we have are some actors,trying desperately to inject some measure of heart into the godawful writing, such as Adam Scott as Ben Parker, or Sydney Sweeney, Celeste O’Connor and Isabela Merced as the three targeted girls. On the other hand, Johnson, who is ostensibly carrying the movie, seems in every scene like she literally would rather be anywhere else. It’s hard to tell if the dislikeable antagonism that almost physically emanates from her is a character choice, or simply undisguised disgust at having agreed to be in this movie.
Stranger yet, the usually reliable Tahar Rahim, who was magnificent in The Mauritanian and A Prophet, seems to have ADR dialogue in almost every scene. With many moments where his lines are delivered either offscreen or with his lip movements clearly different to the words heard. It’s a curious thing to note, and not solely confined to him. Which points towards rumoured heavy reshoots, reworking of the plot, and the story heavily altered in the edit.
Which brings us to Clarkson as the director, and as such the captain of this ship. Clarkson is a first time film director, so it could be surmised that the dull scenes, the woeful plot, and the flatter performances are down to her, but she is also a seasoned TV director with over 20 years of experience. With episodes of everything from Dexter, Succession, Life on Mars, tand Jessica Jones under her belt, it seems hard to ascribe lack of experience, considering many shows she has worked on were large or complex shoots. But a director at the helm of a franchise blockbuster is frequently captive to the whims and producers, and a studio system that frequently imposes changes of tone, story, and even setting all throughout the process.
There are also a slew of strange quirks in the film that point towards this adverse tinkering that go far beyond the scope of creative and technical filmmaking. The cynical marketing choices to focus heavily on the blink-and-you’ll-miss-them shots of the teenage trio in superhero costumes. Or worse, the film being literally unable to use the names Peter Parker, or Aunt May, presumably for legal reasons, but instead creating weird moments where they are left unsaid or clunkily interrupted. Not to mention the utter proliferation of advertising, right down to the finale revolving around a giant Pepsi sign.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter who is to blame for Madame Web. Because the film fails on every single level. It’s technically competent, but nothing more than that in any department. There are no moments of genuine tension here. No moments of pathos or sadness. No exceptional shots or cinematography. The actors go through the motions, and likely so did all the crew. Everyone picked up a cheque and they walked away from this film.
Treat yourself better. Don’t even walk towards it to begin with.
In cinemas nationwide now