It's awfully rare for a big, over-hyped summer blockbuster to live up to expectations.  We've been so disappointed by films like Pearl Harbor, Episode One, The Mummy, Wild Wild West, Independence Day and Men in Black (okay, maybe it’s just Will Smith) that marginally entertaining films like The Fast and the Furious and X-Men seem like pure gold.  Spider-Man is, thankfully, a welcome exception that, like it or not, heralds the beginning of the latest comic book-turned-feature film-franchise.

What makes it work?  For starters, director Sam Raimi is one of the best filmmakers out there, especially when it comes to making dark, comic-booky stuff (like, say, the Evil Dead and Darkman trilogies).  There's a solid script from David Koepp, who has penned a few portentous films of his own (Panic Room and A Stir of Echoes, which he also directed).  And the lead role is perfectly cast - a lot of people groaned when Wonder Boys' Tobey Maguire (or is he now Cider-Man?) got the call to play Peter Parker, but he effectively straddles the line between ass-kicking superhero and greasy-haired A/V club president.

Much to the chagrin of Ritalin-deprived Spidey fans, Spider-Man takes its time, both literally and figuratively.  Koepp and Raimi do a great job setting up Peter's pre-crime-fighting life, spending about an hour showing how he got his powers and harnessed them in a positive way.  This portion of the film takes place over a leisurely period of time, which is pretty refreshing – it isn't like Peter gets bitten by the spider and, later that afternoon, becomes a nemesis to criminals everywhere.

The aforementioned arachnid chomps on Peter during a high-school field trip while he silently pines for Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst, The Cat's Meow), the red-haired neighbor he's had a crush on since the age of six.  Of course, she's dating the school bully (Joe Manganiello), who goes out of his way to make the scrawny Peter miserable.  Recent private-school transfer Harry Osborn (James Franco, Freaks and Geeks) is Peter's only friend, though he's dogged by a strained relationship with his overbearing father – and international business tycoon – Norman (Willem Dafoe, Shadow of the Vampire).

Norman and his Oscorp are about to lose a huge Defense Department contract to a rival R&D company.  A hasty late-night laboratory decision messes him up and turns him into the evil Green Goblin, who flies around on a very cool sled and wears a mask like those guys from Styx's Kilroy Was Here album.  He becomes obsessed with destroying Spider-Man, setting up the big battle we all knew was coming.

Meanwhile, Peter is going through your basic superpowers acceptance process (embarrassment to cockiness to guilt to revenge), occasionally pausing to pout about M.J. and cry tiny Spider tears.  It's mostly all good, despite the romance angle often threatening to grind the film to a halt.  But I bet nobody will be talking about that, instead opting to rave about the incredible special effects, most notably the Goblin's sled and the spastic, breakneck web-swinging Spidey does through Manhattan (cinematographer Don Burgess is certainly no stranger to frenetic camera movement – he's worked on What Lies Beneath, Contact, and will shoot the upcoming T3).

There are a couple of other minor flaws in Spider-Man, like when it falls into typical summer blockbuster traps by featuring both product placement and a high-profile live musical performance (Macy Gray).  But there's more than enough to offset it – Danny Elfman's score (his best since Sleepy Hollow), a very funny explanation of the origin of Spidey's costume, and a scene-stealing performance from the usually creepy J.K. Simmons (Oz) as Daily Bugle editor J. Jonah Jameson.  There are also a bunch of cheesy Stan Lee-type one-liners, which will make you either giggle or groan, depending on how you like that sort of thing.  Look for cameos ranging from Lee to Lucy Lawless to wrestler Randy "Macho Man" Savage to the impossibly chinned Bruce Campbell (from Raimi's Evil Dead films).

1:52 –

for stylized violence and action