There's no doubt about it: all of Spider-man's visual force is spread through out the web slings, it runs through out the innumerable buildings of a glassy New York, in a space witch continuously opens to a point of view and never stops redefining itself through its verticality. An upward tension with is some times giddiness, a jump into emptiness researching the only point where all the web slings converge , that eyes aleph which is just waiting to be discovered or perceived. Spider-Mans' intensity is collected in the unconfessable desire of an holistic vision  in the forbidden temptation to embrace all of what's real with a simple, universal and totaling blink of the eyes. Raimi's camera explores and experiments, it leans forward and retracts from urban scenes, it follows its main character and his acrobatics, in a vortex of views characterized by a wittgensteinian question which lies beneath this all: "How does one hold the worlds' totality or: "or how does one see through Gods eye and what does one see?"

A question which isn't just a film dilemma but an ethic and politic: the solution is to be researched in the "prospective" and in the comprehension of which lens should be used to capture and study our present. But, maybe, more than abusing of camera lens and improbable optical graduations, Raimi seems to suggest the use of a different and original instrument, a "cinematic instrument" capable of shifting our cinematic visions , towards an imaginary horizon of the possibility of the future: that webbing which, without breaking, tends and sticks to things allowing movements and rotations otherwise impossible, physical "divagations" that shine on shadows and dark angles.

That way, a point of view opens and reveals itself but, even with the giddiness, it's not about Gods'eye, or dickian and celestial eye lids ready to control and order society. The webbing unveils a fragmentary universe in love with disorder and movement, while digital technology redesigns the coordinates and the boundaries of a view which illuminates itself at each jump Spider-Man takes. Scenarios made with bricks and cement and architectures of the soul fulfill each other, they assume a mutating organisms' physiognomy, animated by a sole impulse, an osmotic oscillation between inside and out, internal and external, mind and bodies.

These are all metaphors and frames of the same vision: Peter Parkers' and M.J. Watsons', an adolescent who desires a girl and- is restless- and- pulses-and-fights because of the dream of an impossible dream. "Spider-Man" is simply this desires' story -ethic and politic since it is moved by an unstoppable civil passion-, it's a superheroes' heart lost beat that's born from a human, too human "life pulse". No revenge (unlike "Barman" and "Devil"), no desire for super powers (unlike "Superman" or the nietscheinian "X-Men", filmed by the eccentric and solipsist Brian Singer), no temptation to save anything: here the absolute -the fearful "Gods' eye"- is a contact, a web sling that goes up to down, it immerges in the sounds and sights of the urban and rainy scenario, giving us one of the most miraculous kisses of cinemas' history. The miracles' esthetic and of desire as a prodigy: "The worlds' totality", the absolute view of "Spider-Man" rests in the sweet contact of wet lips.

Traduzione a cura di Giuliano Capogrossi Colognesi