It’s unfortunate when a good series loses its magic. It happened to Star Wars, it happened to X-Men, and now it’s happened to our friendly neighborhood web-slinger. Spiderman 3 is a convulted mess, jumping erratically back and forth between shallow dramatics involving Mary Jane and her love triangle with Peter and Harry, a mishandled introduction (and subsequent redemption) of the Sandman (Uncle Ben’s real killer), and the hollow and exceptionally mishandled symbiote plotline. With an estimated budget of 350 million dollars, Spiderman 3 is destined to be remembered as an underdeveloped, rush-written faux-film dependent on style over substance. It’s simply an exercise in error, choosing to abandon the magic that made the first two movies so wonderful, instead opting to lean on CGI fight scenes to lead the way. If it’s true that the movie suffered unintended production delays, had gone massively over-budget, and was beset by the principle actors despising their roles and wanting to move onto other things, judging by Spiderman 3, it all makes sense.

Let’s just say that when Kirsten Dunst has the most convincing, well-acted role in a film, her peers aren’t at the top of their game. Or the middle. Actually, they’re pretty close to the grimy floor. Instead of evoking genuine emotion, Raimi relies on contrived weep-sessions to fill the dramatic gap. Add that onto the wooden Tobey Mcguire, and it makes for bad times indeed. Willam Dafoe reprises his role as the enigmatic father figure/complete lunatic Green Goblin for only a split second cameo during one of Harry’s “moments”, which is a travesty. Bruce Campbell’s single-scene appearance as an excitable and overenthusiastic waiter outshines everyone else’s parts in the film, especially compared to That 70’s Show-alumni Topher Grace as a wimpy (what the hell?) Eddie Brock. Thomas Haden Church is decent as The Sandman character, but isn’t given enough screentime for actual character development. Sure, there’s the oh-so-sentimental “he’s just a good guy doing bad things” setup wherein he visits his cancer-ridden daughter and promises to pay her medical bills “no matter what”, but besides that all we see is his emotionless face in the background and stiff line-delivery when he says things like “I don’t want to hurt you.” Even (90 year old) Stan Lee’s obligatory appearance feels so forced it made me actually cringe, as he stands next to Peter and spouts off one of his cliché catchphrases that have become so overdone by now that it’s all become a joke to everyone but himself. Even fan-favorite J. Jonah Jameson is less enjoyable this time, thanks to some hideous “comedic interludes” that quickly overstay their welcome.

The love-triangle/interpersonal relationships are brought up again in Spiderman 3. After a brief mid-air bout, Harry goes all totally rad 1080 Snowboarding on Spidey’s ass, with a fist full of dad’s flying, double-edged boomerangs and goblin grenades. The end result of all this tumult is Harry getting bonked on the head and losing his short-term memory.

Unsurprisingly, Harry’s memory returns soon thereafter, while he’s looking in a mirror (which is apparently a big deal for him). His oddly biblical love for his father (there’s actually a shrine) pours out and Harry chooses to play some awesome cards. He kidnaps Mary Jane and forces her to break up with Peter in one of the most dull scenes during the duration of the movie.

The symbiote responsible for creating Spiderman’s arguably most fascinating villain falls from the sky on a meteor, which coincidentally lands within a short distance of Peter Parker and Mary Jane, who are too busy making out to hear the deafening crash-landing less than 50 feet away. The way the symbiote is handled is a severe misstep, but what’s worse is what the symbiote is ignored in favor of: “Emo-Spidey”. When overtaken by the strange black goo from outer space, Peter becomes a strange mixture of My Chemical Romance’s fashion sense and Mike Tyson’s blatant sexual harassment. Peter does more double-barrelled finger blasting than Andrew Dice Clay in an all-night Fonzie competition. It gets worse when the movie turns into a 1970’s blaxpoitation flick as Peter transforms into a huge asshole using Gwen Stacey and some awkward dance-moves to belittle Mary Jane at her new, humble job as a singing waitress. The only rewarding part of the entire scene is when Peter, in a fit of rage, punches Mary Jane in the face.

It’s not surprising that, after throwing a grenade behind Harry’s head (rocking that motherfucker’s world), Peter comes to ask for his aid in saving Mary Jane –the woman they both love– from an impending death facing her at the hands of Venom and the Sandman. It’s also not surprising that Harry refuses. What is surprising is that after a scene of Brokeback-enabled male bonding between Harry and his butler, Harry comes to the realization that, hey, you know, maybe Peter wasn’t lying after all.

Naturally, comeuppance is had, the bad guys get together, and the mother of all comic book superfights is a gargantuan, gorilla-sized mess.

Did I have fun watching the movie? I had a lot of fun. I also had a lot of fun watching Plan 9 From Outer Space, but honestly, that doesn’t make it any good. It’s clear that the actors’ disinterest in the series and the film’s dazzling, astronomical budget must have boggled Sam Raimi’s mind. This is not regular-Raimi. This film is Raimi trying to make a summer blockbuster movie, but he’s not that type of director. What Spiderman 3 should have been is a tight, taut, compact reprise of 1 and 2’s combination of action, humor, poignance and lovingly-crafted storytelling. This movie staggers along plot-point to plot-point, hoping that excess equals exceptional, and falters every step of the way.