James Lileks really, really, really, really likes Spider-Man. And he's not afraid to tell you why:

this movie is more important, in the long run, than any other movie, novel, artwork or musical composition that will be produced in 2002. I’m not saying it has a higher degree of artistic accomplishment - it is, after all, a comic-book story splashed on a wall. But novels have little cultural impact these days. Even the most celebrated novels are discussed more than they’re actually read. Deeper, smarter, wiser movies will be released, but they will have small audiences of people who were already inclined to believe whatever point the movie made. Art - be it sculpture or painting - is culturally irrelevant, gazing into the Mobius strip embedded in its navel. Every art form has its moment when it sums up a culture, or an aspect of that culture, be it “J’Accuse” or Guernica or the Rite of Spring. But all these forms have been shouldered off to the wings by movies, because only movies have the killer combination of mass distribution, mass pre-publicity, a huge target audience, and the trebled appeal of story plus music plus acting plus visual effects on a scale unachievable in scope and size in any other medium.

In 30, 40 years, they’ll look back at the culture of 2002 just as we look back at the movies of WW2. Anyone look at the painting or novels of the 40s to discover the mood of wartime America? No. It’s the movies. The all-time WW2 movie, in retrospect, is “Casablanca,” because it sums up who we wanted to be. Cynical and idealistic. Selfish and altruistic. Lovable and lovelorn. Selfish entrepreneur and fighter for the greater good. We might have been Rick; we might have been Sam; in our weaker moments we knew we were capable of being Renauld; we really didn’t want to be Victor Lazlo, as much as we might have admired him, but we were damn sure we would never be Strassner. In the end, when it counted, we shot the Nazi, let the girl go, and found weary, bemused comfort in the camaraderie that would sustain us in the battle ahead.

Look, if you can read all that into a Hollywood studio assembly-line product like Casablanca - my favorite movie, as cliched as that sounds - then we ought to be able to find some cultural resonances in Spider-Man. And we can. All I’m saying is this: when historians sift through the pop-culture of America looking for hints and clues, they will notice that a character born in Vietnam-era 1963 reached a mass appeal in 2002, shortly before the Second Iraq War, and they will pay particular attention to the recurring phrase:

With great power comes great responsibility.