Of the three versions in which the new Spider-Man was issued, I prefer the one for the Game Boy Advance, a straightforward little game that keeps our hero outdoors, where he belongs.
The spirit found in these real-life heroes keep our world from spinning into chaos; they're the good people who believe in the power of the human spirit -- the binding force that holds our humanity together and you just may be one of them.
Blomkamp regular Sharlto Copley thankfully keeps our motion-captured hero more C-3PO than Jar Jar Binks, but the surrounding drama remains too tonally conflicted to engage our sympathies.
There's nothing profound about the neatly packaged moral Jupp draws from this, about the need to keep your heroes at arm's length.
The story unfolds in two strands: the midlife diaries anachronistically kept by our hero, and the social media txt-speak messages of his love.
Similarly, our heroes keep clinging to brinks by their fingertips, as if to prove that a proper cliffhanger needs a genuine cliff — a curiously nostalgic approach, although the director's fondness for the retro is crucial to his non-stop knowingness, with its hints of both hipster and nerd.
Everybody else seems to lead a life cheerfully open to public view, while our heroes keep their secrets hidden away -- often literally, in panels behind walls, ventilator shafts, attics, basements, and, in Dexter's case, the ocean floor.
He also tries to keep the heroes true to their comic-book selves, but sometimes there is more than one version to choose from.
In fact, as Miller suggests, the only reason studios need to keep their heroes wearing recognisable costumes is to make sure they sell plenty of toys.
