Spider-Man’s lessons for us all on the responsibility to use our power, great or small, to do good

George Tsakiridis, South Dakota State University As a child, I watched reruns of the 1967 Spider-Man cartoon on television. I was drawn to the action and colors and, of course, the catchy tune. This was my early introduction to Spider-Man, as it was for many children who grew up in the 1960s-’80s. Spidey, as he is affectionately called, was a huge part of popular culture. The Spider-Man story was first released in 1962 as part of another comic book, Marvel’s Amazing Fantasy (192) #15. A year later he became his own title character, branching out into cartoons, merchandising and feature films. In other words, Spider-Man became ubiquitous. With the advent of films featuring him in 2002, however, Spider-Man reached an entirely new level of influence, so much so that academic interest in him increased. I edited a 2021 book in which I wrote a chapter about Spider-Man’s creeds – his main sets of beliefs, or one might say his religion: “Theology and Spider-Man.” A phrase that has appeared in various forms in Spider-Man lore – “with great power comes great responsibility” – is an example of such a creedal statement. I examine how this one phrase can resonate with readers and viewers to such a degree that it shapes their everyday lives and makes Spider-Man a moral exemplar to many of us. More broadly, however, I believe that as a moral exemplar, Spider-Man exemplifies the struggle for virtue that most of us face every day.

Spider-Man is relatable

Moral exemplars are figures who transcend the average human experience, achieving extraordinary feats in pursuit of virtue. They serve as models for others to follow. They can be historical figures or people we interact with every day. A 2017 study led by educational psychology scholar Hyemin Han states moral exemplars influence others because their stories seem relevant and attainable. The study shows evidence that people are more likely to respond to a peer’s example of good behavior and be motivated by that. This means that role models who feel relatable to our daily lives tend to have the greatest impact. I would argue that Marvel superheroes and the films they have inspired are popular because we see ourselves in these stories. These characters are the sort of moral exemplars that can influence our behavior because we identify with them so closely. Spider-Man particularly fits this bill. Peter Parker is a teenager who unexpectedly gains superhuman power. In this transformation, he is forced to struggle with moral behavior on a higher level because he now has newfound abilities to do things normal humans cannot. He can use his powers for good or selfish ends, and the effects are much more damaging than for a normal person.

Moral exemplars are connected in a fundamental way to virtue ethics – a framework of behavior based in core virtues such as honesty, bravery and kindness. Virtue ethics focuses on building character within versus following a set of rules. Moral exemplars are the people who represent virtue ethics in its purest form. They are the most virtuous in their character, displaying what all humans should aspire to when practicing virtue ethics. The virtuous hero is the one we emulate and build our own character around, being a representative of a virtuous life. Spidey is a perfect moral exemplar because he is relatable. He is one of us. He has limitations but invites us to work beyond them.

Morality is Spider-Man’s strength

In the 2021 film “Spider-Man: No Way Home,” Spidey is confronted with the choice of using his power for good or for revenge. As a portal opens to other dimensions, he encounters a number of villains from past films, including the Green Goblin from the 2002 film. In contrast to the Green Goblin, Spidey chooses to use his power for good. Green Goblin kills Aunt May because he wants Spidey to embrace the power he has and use it for selfish means. Aunt May serves as a moral foundation for Peter Parker, and with her gone, perhaps the Goblin sees an opportunity for Spidey to embrace power for power’s sake. He tells Spidey, “Morality is your weakness.” Spider-Man must struggle with the temptation to kill the Goblin in a fit of revenge – exactly the kind of self-serving thinking that the Green Goblin himself encourages. Green Goblin is the anti-moral exemplar. He embraces power and vice, while Spidey embraces doing good for others. Earlier in the film, the Goblin states, “Gods don’t have to choose; we take.” For the Goblin, there is no real morality. His power entitles him to any action. On the contrary, Spider-Man sees his power as a gift to be used – “with great power comes great responsibility.” Spider-Man continually sacrifices the joy in his life – his relationships, his health and his family – in order to fight villains and protect the innocent. This is practicing virtue ethics at a high level, one that reaches the status of a moral exemplar. Spidey’s determination to use his power for good arises out of his origin story in the original narrative found in Amazing Fantasy #15. Spider-Man feels a strong sense of guilt and responsibility due to his uncle’s death, which he feels is the result of his inaction. Thus he is committed to using his power for good. At first, he uses his abilities to make money wrestling or finding fame on television. In the aftermath of a television appearance, however, he allows a thief to escape because he doesn’t feel morally responsible to stop him. As the thief escapes, Spidey states, “From now on I just look out for number one – that means – me!” Soon after, he finds that same thief has killed his uncle. It is out of this origin story that is born his adoption of the phrase “with great power comes great responsibility.” His uncle’s death was necessary for his moral tranformation. Spider-Man shows us that moral responsibility does not go away just because one has power. It is in this lesson that Spider-Man exemplifies morality for us. He becomes a moral exemplar. George Tsakiridis, Senior Lecturer of Philosophy and Religion, South Dakota State University This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Jared Bahir Browsh, University of Colorado Boulder “Da, duh.” Two simple notes – E and F – have become synonymous with tension, fear and sharks, representing the primal dread of being stalked by a predator. And they largely have “Jaws” to thank. Fifty years ago, Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster film – along with its spooky score composed by John Williams – convinced generations of swimmers to think twice before going in the water. As a scholar of media history and popular culture, I decided to take a deeper dive into the staying power of these two notes and learned about how they’re influenced by 19th-century classical music, Mickey Mouse and Alfred Hitchcock.

The first summer blockbuster

In 1964, fisherman Frank Mundus killed a 4,500-pound great white shark off Long Island. After hearing the story, freelance journalist Peter Benchley began pitching a novel based on three men’s attempt to capture a man-eating shark, basing the character of Quint off of Mundus. Doubleday commissioned Benchley to write the novel, and in 1973, Universal Studios producers Richard D. Zanuck and David Brown purchased the film rights to the novel before it was published. The 26-year-old Spielberg was signed on to be the director. Tapping into both mythical and real fears regarding great white sharks – including an infamous set of shark attacks along the Jersey Shore in 1916 – Benchley’s 1974 novel became a bestseller. The book was a key part of Universal’s marketing campaign, which began several months before the film’s release. Starting in the fall of 1974, Zanuck, Brown and Benchley appeared on a number of radio and television programs to simultaneously promote the release of the paperback edition of the novel and the upcoming film. The marketing also included a national television advertising campaign that featured emerging composer Williams’ two-note theme. The plan was for a summer release, which, at the time, was reserved for films with less than stellar reviews.

Films at the time typically were released market by market, preceded by local reviews. However, Universal’s decision to release the film in hundreds of theaters across the country on June 20, 1975, led to huge up-front profits, sparking a 14-week run as the No. 1 film in the U.S. Many consider “Jaws” the first true summer blockbuster. It catapulted Spielberg to fame and kicked off the director’s long collaboration with Williams, who would go on to earn the second-highest number of Academy Award nominations in history – 54 – behind only Walt Disney’s 59.

The film’s beating heart

Though it’s now considered one of the greatest scores in film history, when Williams proposed the two-note theme, Spielberg initially thought it was a joke. But Williams had been inspired by 19th and 20th century composers, including Claude Debussy, Igor Stravinsky and especially Antonin Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9, “From the New World.” In the “Jaws” theme, you can hear echoes of the end of Dvorak’s symphony, as well as the sounds of another character-driven musical piece, Sergei Prokofiev’s “Peter and the Wolf.” “Peter and the Wolf” and the score from “Jaws” are both prime examples of leitmotifs, or a musical piece that represents a place or character. The varying pace of the ostinato – a musical motif that repeats itself – elicits intensifying degrees of emotion and fear. This became more integral as Spielberg and the technical team struggled with the malfunctioning pneumatic sharks that they’d nicknamed “Bruce,” after Spielberg’s lawyer. As a result, the shark does not appear until the 81-minute mark of the 124-minute film. But its presence is felt through Williams’ theme, which some music scholars have theorized evoke the shark’s heartbeat.

Sounds to manipulate emotions

Williams also has Disney to thank for revolutionizing character-driven music in film. The two don’t just share a brimming trophy case. They also understood how music can heighten emotion and magnify action for audiences. Although his career started in the silent film era, Disney became a titan of film, and later media, by leveraging sound to establish one of the greatest stars in media history, Mickey Mouse. When Disney saw “The Jazz Singer” in 1927, he knew that sound would be the future of film. On Nov. 18, 1928, “Steamboat Willie” premiered at Universal’s Colony Theater in New York City as Disney’s first animated film to incorporate synchronized sound. Unlike previous attempts to bring sound to film by having record players concurrently play or deploying live musicians to perform in the theater, Disney used technology that recorded sound directly on the film reel. It wasn’t the first animated film with synchronized sound, but it was a technical improvement to previous attempts at it, and “Steamboat Willie” became an international hit, launching Mickey’s – and Disney’s – career. The use of music or sound to match the rhythm of the characters on screen became known as “Mickey Mousing.” “King Kong” in 1933 would deftly deploy Mickey Mousing in a live action film, with music mimicking the giant gorilla’s movements. For example, in one scene, Kong carries away Ann Darrow, who’s played by actress Fay Wray. Composer Max Steiner uses lighter tones to convey Kong’s curiosity as he holds Ann, followed by ominous, faster, tones as Ann escapes and Kong chases after her. In doing so, Steiner encourages viewers to both fear and connect with the beast throughout the film, helping them suspend disbelief and enter a world of fantasy. Mickey Mousing declined in popularity after World War II. Many filmmakers saw it as juvenile and too simplistic for the evolving and advancing film industry.

When less is more

In spite of this criticism, the technique was still used to score some iconic scenes, like the playing of violins in the shower as Marion Crane is stabbed in Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho.” Spielberg idolized Hitchcock. A young Spielberg was even kicked off the Universal lot after sneaking on to watch the production of Hitchcock’s 1966 film “Torn Curtain.” Although Hitchcock and Spielberg never met, “Jaws” clearly exhibits the influence of Hitchcock, the “Master of Suspense.” And maybe that’s why Spielberg initially overcame his doubts about using something so simple to represent tension in the thriller.

The use of the two-note motif helped overcome the production issues Spielberg faced directing the first feature length movie to be filmed on the ocean. The malfunctioning animatronic shark forced Spielberg to leverage Williams’ minimalist theme to represent the shark’s ominous presence in spite of the limited appearances by the eponymous predatory star. As Williams continued his legendary career, he would deploy a similar sonic motif for certain “Star Wars” characters. Each time Darth Vader appeared, the “Imperial March” was played to set the tone for the leader of the dark side. As movie budgets creep closer to a half-billion dollars, the “Jaws” theme – and the way those two notes manipulate tension – is a reminder that in film, sometimes less can be more. Jared Bahir Browsh, Assistant Teaching Professor of Critical Sports Studies, University of Colorado Boulder This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.