Maturity
Peter Parker differs from almost every superhero who preceded him and a great many of those who came afterward primarily by virtue of one respect: he’s a nerdy, goofy, not-entirely-mature teenager. Peter is a kid; a smart high school student, to be sure, but a kid nonetheless. Taking on the persona of a superhero Spiderman thus becomes in one respect a metaphor for growing up. That includes all the positive as well as negative aspects. The moment that Peter slides into that unforgivably form-fitting Spider-Man costume is the symbolic ending of his adolescence and transformation into adulthood. All those hopeful desires of “growing up” come to live as he slings that web in flight from one building to the next. It is the symbol of freedom that adulthood always implies.
Responsibility
With age comes responsibility. That is not quite as poetic as the movie’s famous adage about power, but it is every bit as true. Peter as Spidey is at first overcome by the manic emotional highs that arrives with the freedom of maturity and adulthood. Before he barely gets off the ground, however, Peter comes crashing back to earth with the realization that growing up is not exactly the fantasy it seems when you are young. Responsibility comes with merely growing up every much as it comes with being handed unimaginable powers. If not used wisely, it might well as be useless.
In the Name of the Father-Figure
The significance of fathers in Spider-Man cannot be overstated. First the obvious: Peter Parker doesn’t have a father per se; he is subject to a continuing series of potential father figures. Secondly, the father figures in the film are presented in a way that becomes increasingly complex. It is, don’t forget, Peter’s father-figure Uncle Ben who doles out that advice about power and responsibility being forever interlocked. And then, almost immediately, Peter loses the closest thing to a biological father he’s ever known. Still, Peter is far from being depleted on that score. Norman Osborne and J. Jonah Jameson are also situated as complex father figures who are both destined to disappoint and fall short of the job to one degree or another (especially Osborne who has an equally complicated relationship with his actual biological son). But even Bruce Campbell’s ring announcer can qualify as a father figure to an extent: is it not he who actually names Parker’s web-slinging alter ego? Part of the job of a father is to name the son, after all, and were it not for a last second decision by the announcer, the title of the movie would have been The Human Spider.
Spidey Sense and Sensibility
Peter Parker’s vaunted “spidey sense” is typically attributed, naturally enough, to the effects of his hybridization. The sense is that of the spider, right? On the other hand, if spiders were so preternaturally endowed with great sensitivity…why are they so easy to smush? No, the argument must be made that Spiderman is successful because of his “Petey sense.” Peter Parker is not unusual in being a teenage boy who is especially sensitive, but he is rather unique in projecting to the wider world that he possessed such heightened sensitivity. It is significant that Spiderman is a teenage superhero because teenagers—even those lacking Peter’s willingness to carry his heart on his sleeve—live a life in which the intensity of their emotional senses at dialed up to eleven almost constantly.
