
2018 · Bob Persichetti
A near-perfect crowd-pleaser: for family night, for cheering yourself up, for showing someone what animation can do. Pure comfort with real craft under it.
Miles Morales is a Brooklyn teenager juggling a new school and a loving, complicated family when a radioactive spider bite hands him powers he never asked for. Then Kingpin's super collider tears holes between universes, and Spider-People from other worlds start dropping into his — leaving Miles, the least experienced of them all, to figure out what kind of hero he wants to be.
Exhilarating, funny, and unexpectedly moving — it snaps along with the rhythm of a great comic book but keeps circling back to a kid and his family. It's the rare superhero film that leaves you lighter than it found you.
Shameik Moore makes Miles instantly lovable, and Jake Johnson's washed-up, sweatpants-era Peter B. Parker is one of the great reluctant-mentor turns — funny and quietly sad in the same breath.
It invented a visual language from comic-book printing itself — Ben-Day dots, misaligned colors, thought balloons and panel borders invading the frame — and animates Miles at a different rhythm than the heroes he's measuring himself against, so his growth is something you can literally see. Produced under Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, with a script as nimble as the images.
It won the Oscar for Best Animated Feature and split American studio animation into before and after — the stylized, expressive look of countless films since traces straight back to it.
American studio animation divides into before and after this film. Produced under the gleefully irreverent eye of Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, it introduced Miles Morales — an Afro-Latino kid from Brooklyn — to moviegoing audiences by inventing a visual language worthy of him: Ben-Day dots and CMYK misregistration lifted from cheap newsprint, thought balloons and panel borders invading the frame, characters animated 'on twos' so their movement carries the staccato snap of a flipped comic. What could have been gimmickry becomes expressive grammar; Miles literally moves at a different frame rate than the hero he's measuring himself against, until he doesn't. The screenplay is equally nimble, wringing genuine pathos from the multiverse premise years before it curdled into franchise boilerplate. It took the Animated Feature Oscar away from Pixar and Disney, and within five years its fingerprints — mixed media, painterly stylization, the death of house-style realism — were visible everywhere from Puss in Boots to TMNT. A whole industry saw what animation could be and scrambled to catch up.
Lines of influence