Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse
2018 · Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, Rodney Rothman · 117 min · Animation / Action
Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse arrived in 2018 carrying a burden that should have sunk it. Audiences had already seen multiple live-action versions of Spider-Man across different franchises, and the idea of yet another origin story, this time animated, didn’t exactly set the world on fire during early marketing. Then people actually watched it. What they found was a film that didn’t just retell the Spider-Man story but reinvented the way animated films could look and feel, earning near-universal praise and an Academy Award for Best Animated Feature in the process.
Miles Morales is the center of everything. A Brooklyn teenager navigating a new school, a complicated relationship with his police officer father, and a close bond with his uncle, Miles gets pulled into a multiverse-spanning crisis after gaining spider powers of his own. The film surrounds him with alternate versions of Spider-Man from different dimensions, each rendered in a distinct visual style, and uses that premise to ask a surprisingly grounded question: what does it actually take to step up when nobody thinks you’re ready?
Community response to this film lands about as close to unanimous as superhero movies get. People don’t just like it. They rewatch it, catch new details every time, and argue about whether it belongs in the conversation for best superhero film ever made.
Visual Design at Its Finest in Spider
Start with the animation, because everyone does. This film created a visual style that had never been attempted at this scale. Blending computer-generated imagery with hand-drawn techniques, it built a world that looks like a comic book in motion, complete with visible dot patterns, bold motion lines, and onscreen sound effects. Characters are rendered at different frame rates depending on their experience level. Miles moves choppily early on, still figuring out his powers, while veteran Spider-people flow smoothly through action sequences. Every frame looks like it could be pulled out and hung on a wall. The film proved that animation could be a stylistic choice, not just a genre default, and the entire industry took notice.
Miles himself is the emotional anchor. Voiced by Shameik Moore, he’s awkward, funny, scared, and determined in ways that feel specific rather than generic. His struggle isn’t just about learning to swing between buildings. It’s about living up to expectations he didn’t ask for while figuring out who he wants to be. The relationship with his father Jefferson, played by Brian Tyree Henry, gives the film real stakes. These two love each other and can’t quite communicate, and the tension between them carries more weight than any supervillain showdown.
Jake Johnson’s Peter B. Parker is a brilliant counterpart to Miles. Older, divorced, out of shape, and deeply cynical, this version of Spider-Man is a mentor who doesn’t want to be one. The dynamic between the eager kid and the reluctant teacher gives the film its comedic backbone and some of its most affecting moments. Hailee Steinfeld’s Gwen Stacy rounds out the core trio with confidence and warmth.
The soundtrack deserves its own mention. Built around hip-hop and contemporary music, it feels authentically connected to Miles and his world. It’s not just background noise. The music choices amplify key scenes and reinforce the film’s identity in ways that a generic orchestral score never could.
Humor lands consistently without undermining the story’s emotional stakes. The film is self-aware and playful, poking fun at superhero tropes while still respecting them. It manages to be laugh-out-loud funny for adults and kids without ever feeling like it’s pandering to either group.
Spider’s Weakest Moments
Several of the alternate Spider-characters feel undercooked. Spider-Man Noir, Peni Parker, and Spider-Ham are wonderful concepts with distinctive visual styles, but they don’t get enough screen time to develop beyond their introductions. They show up, deliver a few memorable lines, contribute to the final battle, and fade into the background. Fans of those characters are left wanting more, and the film’s crowded roster means some personalities get shortchanged.
Kingpin works as a physical threat but falls short as a compelling antagonist. His motivation is personal and could have been moving, but the film doesn’t invest enough time in making it land. Liev Schreiber’s vocal performance feels restrained where it needed more intensity, and the character’s exaggerated physical design, while visually striking, creates a disconnect that pulls some viewers out of dramatic scenes. For a film this strong everywhere else, the villain is its clearest weak spot.
For all its innovation, the visual style doesn’t work for everyone. A small number of viewers find the deliberate frame rate choices and blurred background elements disorienting, particularly during fast-paced action sequences. Some have described certain shots as looking out of focus. This is an intentional artistic decision meant to replicate the printed comic book experience, but it can take adjustment, and not every audience member makes that adjustment comfortably.
Structurally, the film follows a familiar hero’s journey arc. Miles gains powers, resists the call, finds mentors, faces a crisis of confidence, and rises to the occasion. The execution elevates every beat, but the bones of the story are ones audiences have seen before. For viewers who track narrative structure closely, the predictability of where the plot is heading can take some edge off the surprises.
Why the Animation Changed Everything
More than any single plot point or character moment, this film’s lasting impact is visual. Before its release, mainstream animated features largely operated within established aesthetic boundaries. Studios had their looks, and audiences knew what to expect. This film threw all of that out. It demonstrated that an animated movie could have a completely original visual identity, one that served the story rather than just looking polished. The ripple effects across the animation industry were immediate and ongoing. Studios began taking bigger visual risks, experimenting with styles that would have been considered too unconventional just a few years earlier. That influence alone cements the film’s place in animation history.
Should You Watch Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse?
Anyone who cares about animation as an art form needs to see this film. It’s required viewing. Beyond that, it works for superhero fans, for people who’ve grown tired of superhero movies, for teenagers who want to see a hero that feels like them, and for parents looking for something they’ll enjoy as much as their kids. Miles Morales is a protagonist who earns his place, and his story resonates far beyond the comic book audience.
Skip it if you’re sensitive to rapid visual stimulation or if the intentional frame rate style sounds like it would bother you. A very small number of viewers find the look physically uncomfortable. Everyone else should clear two hours.
The Verdict on Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse
Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse took a character audiences thought they knew inside out and found something completely new to say about him. It built a visual language that no animated film had attempted before, grounded it in a coming-of-age story with real emotional weight, and delivered one of the best superhero films in a genre that was already overflowing with them. A handful of side characters deserved more screen time and the villain could have been sharper, but those are footnotes in a film that won the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature and convinced millions of people that animation could redefine what a comic book movie looks like.