‘Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse’ Ditches the MCU to Spectacular Success

As Marvel Studios prepares the finale to its decade-long saga with Avengers: Endgame this April, Hollywood’s appetite for shared or expanded universes has only become more ravenous. Many have tried, but few, if any really, have been able to replicate the coveted MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe) formula.

So maybe that’s why newly christened Academy Award winner, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, feels so refreshing – it constructs an entirely new superhero universe under Sony’s Spider-Man banner without being tied to the continuity of its live-action counterpart.

If that doesn’t sound particularly groundbreaking, it’s important to consider just how much Marvel’s invasion of Hollywood has influenced the way modern audiences engage with movies. In just ten years, studio president Kevin Feige has produced a whopping twenty-one (soon to be twenty-two) films, each crossing over with one another continually building a shared canon with every subsequent installment.

Accordingly, fans have become conditioned to acknowledge and expect a certain level of coherent continuity from Hollywood’s cinematic universes: after Thanos snaps away half of all sentient life in Avengers: Infinity War, that moment not only affects the next Avengers sequel but also every character’s franchise within that world. Think of it as Newton’s third law but for shared universes.

Other studios have tried playing fast and loose with the interconnected-ness of their superhero franchises only to complicate future projects. Fox basically made Days of Future Past to fix their infamously complicated X-Men movie timeline. And then there’s Warner Bros., whose rushed world-building and sloppy imitation of the MCU blueprint derailed their DC cinematic universe for almost five years.

Meanwhile, Sony, whose ownership of Marvel IP extends to roughly 900 characters, most of which are limited to the Spider-Man umbrella, have enjoyed quite a resurgence since partnering with Marvel Studios to co-produce their newest series of Spider-Man films, beginning with 2017’s Spider-Man: Homecoming. Into the Spider-Verse, though, is not one of those films, so the probability for things to turn sideways was actually quite high.

Left to Right: Peni Parker (Kimiko Glenn), Spider-Woman (Hailee Steinfeld), Spider-Ham (John Mulaney), Miles Morales (Shameik Moore), Peter B. Parker (Jake Johnson), Spider-Noir (Nic Cage)

Yes, Into the Spider-Verse is animated, so you could argue that most people wouldn’t think either franchise is related to begin with. But Spider-Verse isn’t just some direct-to-video cartoon greenlit to advertise a toy line. This is a big budget studio undertaking with well-known names like Jake Johnson, Mahershala Ali, and Nic Cage alongside rising stars John Mulaney, Hailee Steinfeld, and Shameik Moore.

If it’s great, everybody wins. If it’s bad, does it hurt public goodwill toward future Spider-Man projects? Sony’s other 2018 Spider-Man spinoff, Venom – which went on to gross just shy of $900M internationally – may indicate the opposite: that poor critical reception actually doesn’t matter.

But even Venom, whose very comic origins and identity are indebted to Spider-Man, was stripped of any references to the web-head as to not complicate Tom Holland’s budding live-action franchise. Or maybe it was to leave the door open for a future crossover?

Since Spider-Verse is effectively a standalone story, though, it isn’t concerned with maybe fitting into someone else’s universe. It can take liberties otherwise discouraged by an already established shared world: like kill off Peter Parker in the first ten minutes.

Don’t worry, this Peter (charmingly voiced by Chris Pine) isn’t really the same Peter that fans have come to know and love. He’s blonde, in perfect shape, and at the peak of his superhero career with little worry in sight – a stark contrast to the blue collar, “every man” persona typically associated with the character.

What stays the same, though, is this Peter’s willingness to sacrifice his life to save other people. And that deeply affects Miles Morales – the true heart of Into the Spider-Verse and star of Marvel’s now-defunct Ultimate Spider-Man comic book series.

Debuting in 2011, Miles has earned a permanent place in the Marvel Comics mythos, but when it comes to live-action appearances, the character has been non-existent from any previous Spider-Man or MCU films.

And it makes sense: Miles only recently came into popularity this decade and Tom Holland just donned the red-and-blue tights back in 2016. But with the freedom of being unbound to any fixed continuity, Sony was able to bring an iconic character like Miles to the forefront of Into the Spider-Verse without waiting years for his live-action MCU debut.

When we first meet Miles in Spider-Verse, he isn’t a superhero yet. So when a radioactive spider inevitably bites him, imbuing Miles with the classic Spider-Man powers – plus a few new tricks – he’s desperate for a mentor. Bad news: the Peter of his universe is dead.

Good news: the multiverse exists and with it, infinite Spider-folk across alternate dimensions who can teach him what it means to be a hero. Six eventually arrive including washed-up Peter B. Parker, Spider-Woman aka Gwen Stacey of Earth 65, 11-year old Peni Parker and her psychic-linked mech “SP//dr” along with cult favorites, Spider-Man Noir and Spider-Ham.

Now you may be thinking “I don’t know what any of that means,” and that’s okay. Comics are notoriously convoluted, and at any given time, you’ll likely find at least two or more versions of the same superhero running around in different books – some adhering to the continuity of its main universe, others not so much.

Under the “Elseworlds” comic imprint, DC has imagined radical interpretations of its most iconic characters like a Superman who was raised in the Soviet Union instead of Smallville or a 19^th century Batman hunting Jack the Ripper in Gotham City. The closest analog for Marvel would be their anthology series “What If?” which tells one-off, alternate reality tales ranging from “What if Venom bonded with the Punisher” to “What if Gwen Stacey never died?”

While the actual ‘Spider-Verse’ comic event from 2014 existed within Marvel’s primary “Earth-616” universe, Into the Spider-Verse, the movie, more closely resembles an “Elseworlds” or “What If?” in its approximation to and relationship with Sony’s primary cinematic universe. There are now two majorly successful Spider-Man movie franchises, which begs the question: maybe audiences aren’t as sensitive to new franchises as previously thought?

Credit: Comic Book Resources

Even if they’re not an avid comic book reader, the average superhero moviegoer has probably been at this thing for a decade, if not more. Collectively, we are fully indoctrinated into this pop culture movement and understand its cinematic rules in kind. We’ve been taught how to watch a superhero movie.

The shared universe concept is no longer a groundbreaking idea, and what ultimately puts people in theaters and keeps them coming back are strong, relatable characters.

Into the Spider-Verse above all else understands that without a strong emotional foundation for its characters to draw from, it doesn’t matter if you have one Spider-Man or one hundred. When Miles stumbles over the lyrics of his favorite song –  Post Malone and Swae Lee’s “Sunflower” –  we all know what that feels like. Or when Gwen Stacey explains how she lost the Peter of her world – subverting her own iconic comic death – we feel that too. It’s loss and love and humor and doubt. And that is Spider-Man. It’s also us, too.

Forget the humanoid pig and hypnotic animation for a second, this is the lesson that Spider-Verse wants us to learn: we’re all Spider-Man. It doesn’t matter who you are – you’re powerful. While nice on paper, that idea can often become muddled by the type of actor that’s historically led a superhero franchise.

No one’s trying to make you feel bad for crushing on Chris Hemsworth or Brie Larson, but when a film like Into the Spider-Verse comes along and embraces new ethnicities, sexes, and nationalities to join this collective mythology, that’s important. Still, we don’t get there without studios actively seeking and embracing new stories that extend beyond the myopic scope of setting up endless crossovers or “phases.”

With a sequel and spinoff already in development, Spider-Verse will inevitably be subsumed into its own shared world of interconnected movies. And that was always going to happen once Sony had even an inkling that this was going to be a hit. Cinematic universes are not inherently evil but rather the uniformity and sterility that they engender. Let Into the Spider–Verse, then, shine bright as a beacon for what’s possible when you break from the mold.

Castle Rock & When “IP” TV Goes Wrong

If you stripped away every Stephen King reference from Castle Rock, what would remain beneath the layers of superficial fan service? At the conclusion of its first season, Hulu’s newest original series has left viewers with plenty of Easter eggs and intrigue but little substance.

Co-created by Sam Shaw and Dustin Thomason, Castle Rock is not an adaptation of any one, specific Stephen King story. Rather, it’s an anthology series inspired by the characters and themes of King’s past works, synthesized into an original story and dropped into the fictional town of Castle Rock, Maine – referred to or featured prominently in King classics like IT, The Dead Zone, Cujo, and The Shawshank Redemption.

While the Stephen King Cinematic Universe may be a new concept, devout King fans will undoubtedly recognize the sound of a shared multiverse from his literary canon. Characters, locations and supernatural elements frequently reappear across the parallel worlds of King’s stories, implying that they’re all somehow connected.

Castle Rock isn’t as interested in connecting these pieces, though. Instead, it sets out to tell a new tale – lawyer Henry Deaver (Andre Holland) returns to his hometown after a nameless inmate, known only as “The Kid” (Bill Skarsgård), mysteriously appears in an abandoned prison wing, setting off a chain of death, violence, and unexplained phenomenon throughout the town.

Andre Holland as Henry Deaver

Without even mentioning the name “Castle Rock,” the basic premise has a rather strong hook in its central mysteries. At some point, though, someone must have decided that the bones of whatever this show may have been weren’t strong enough to satisfy Hulu’s ambitions for zeitgeist penetration and subscriber acquisition. Or more importantly, there was no brand name attached to it.

Because in 2018, unless you’re like HBO or Netflix with enough accrued brand loyalty to consistently experiment on original content, the odds of developing a hit series not based on any pre-exiting intellectual property (IP) are not particularly promising. With over 500 scripted series airing this year alone, “peak TV” has left audiences with an exponentially increasing number of programming hours and a disproportionate amount of free time for consumption.

The importance, then, of being able to sell a new series on its poster becomes invaluable. “From Stephen King” undoubtedly creates more interest among passive, prospective viewers than “From the creators of WGN America’s Manhatthan.”

That isn’t even a shot at Shaw and Thomason’s credentials. It’s simply the reality for artists vying for attention in this wild West of over-the-top TV. If Hulu or any other content provider has any chance of competing in today’s infinitely expanding sea of streaming services, this is the game they’ll have to play.

So the prison, which operates as a primary set piece for Castle Rock’s first half, becomes Shawshank State Prison. The former town sheriff transforms into Alan Pangborn (Scott Glenn) from Needful Things. Supporting female character #2 assumes the name Jackie Torrance (Jane Levy) after King’s infamous psychopath from The Shining. Add one part “childhood trauma”, two parts “paranormal evil”, mix well and voila – a new Stephen King story is born.

Before sounding the death knell of TV as we know it, media property manipulation by massive entertainment companies isn’t a new or exclusively harmful idea. Television and film studios have been mining the IP of writers and other content machines for decades, often to great success. Just look at FX’s Fargo, which helped launch, if not function as the catalyst for modern TV anthologies and episodic series based loosely on prior franchises.

Jane Levy as Jackie Torrance

The real issue arises when this type of IP stewardship becomes an afterthought instead of an essential ingredient. As voluminous as the King allusions were this season, they ultimately served no greater purpose towards the overall mythology of the series – why does Jackie bear the Torrance name other than to pander to King’s longtime readers?

For some fans, though, the lack of connective tissue may not matter. Because if you knew what to look for, you were greatly rewarded with the satisfaction of noticing a familiar name or incident from King’s bibliography. “I understood that reference!”, you said.

That is, until the dopamine hit of self-gratification wore off, because each cheeky fourth-wall break appeared for a brief moment, only to be gone the next. The result is a collection of Easter eggs that more closely resembles Stephen King’s version of Ready Player One than a fully realized series.

Bill Skarsgård as “The Kid”

If you don’t particularly consider yourself a “Kinghead,” most, if not all of these references may have flown right over your head, leaving you to focus on the show’s burning questions – what really happened to Henry Deaver as a boy that made him leave town? Who is “The Kid,” and how did he wind up in Shawshank? Unfortunately, Castle Rock didn’t seem interested in answering these questions either.

In the absence of any meaningful plot advancement, much of this first season felt like an overlong, ten-hour mood reel. Successful horror, especially of the psychological variety, depends largely on crafting an intangible feeling of dread and vulnerability for its protagonist(s) and thereby, the audience. But atmosphere is only one instrument in a larger box of storytelling tools – it can’t be a crutch. And Castle Rock allocated a wildly uneven portion of its resources towards aping the tone of King’s creepy prose with little regard for effective character development and narrative pacing.

Advocates of the series may counter and point to an episode like “The Queen”, which has been praised for its bottle-episode structure and focus on Ruth’s (Sissy Spacek) battle with dementia. Despite an Emmy-worthy performance from Spacek, the episode itself still suffered from the same flaws that plagued the rest of the season by once again derailing any forward momentum that may have been amassed from the prior six episodes.

Sissy Spacek as Ruth Deaver

Such a detour from the main narrative wouldn’t have been as much of a problem if the entire season was arranged in the same episodic, vignette image. But when so much of the audience’s investment hinged on closure from the pilot’s inciting incidents, the farther episodes strayed from resolution, the more subsequent material adopted a chore-like property.

At least with “The Queen”, it marked the first time that Shaw and Thomason even tried to say anything at all. It was just a bit too late. And that may actually be Castle Rock’s biggest problem – its inability to make a statement about the universe it occupies and why it is the way it is.

What causes the characters in King’s stories to be so ostensibly accursed? Is there some malevolent, cosmic force pulling the strings of their lives with vengeful wrath – could it be a fictional Stephen King himself? There’s no right answer, but an attempt to at least explore the deeper, even meta-commentary of King’s lore could have elevated Castle Rock beyond it’s ultimately hollow final product.

It’s that just-missing-the-mark quality that makes Castle Rock’s shortcomings all the more frustrating, because it could have been great. Sprinkled throughout the season were these tiny moments of magic, so fleeting, it was entirely possible to miss them. They were a window into an alternate reality where maybe this wasn’t a Stephen King story.

Maybe it stood on its own as a truly original concept that explored the troubled lives of those within an idyllic town corrupted by a supernatural evil. Maybe each episode was like “The Queen” – isolating a single primary character and analyzing their personal traumas. Or maybe it was always a King story that surrendered to its maximum potential weirdness and took risks regardless of the associated IP.

The nice thing about being an anthology is that Castle Rock can choose any of the above moving forward. Free from the baggage of loose threads and continuity concerns, Hulu has a clean slate to begin anew next season. With a polarizing finale still fresh, some fans may be disappointed at the lack of a definitive conclusion from Season One’s biggest mysteries. But the finality of now opens the door for the possibility of what-can-be.

Whether Shaw and Thomason return to the drawing board or stay the course, that remains to be seen. One thing is certain, though: by the time Season Two rolls around, even more adaptations, reboots, and reimaginings will have sprouted up, many of which will likely be King-related.

Shouldn’t Hulu strive to set the example by which all other competitors and imitators follow? To prove that creativity can exist within the studio machine in spite of Hollywood’s franchise obsession – that the words and ideas of a master like Stephen King are worth more than the financial value assigned to his intellectual property.

Superhero Movies and the Critic-Fan Conundrum

“At least we can all agree that the third one is always the worst,” Jean Grey (Sophie Turner) quips in X-Men: Apocalypse, following a mutant movie outing to see Return of the Jedi in 1983.

It’s a playful albeit bitter jab at Brett Ratner for ruining Bryan Singer’s original X-trilogy with the embarrassing X-Men 3: The Last Stand. Ironically enough, Singer is now guilty of the same crime as X-Men: Apocalypse is easily the worst of this new trilogy. To be fair, Apocalypse really isn’t a bad film; it’s just not a very good one. That doesn’t mean it’s completely devoid of entertainment, though.

For an otherwise mediocre film, Apocalypse manages to feature just enough memorable moments (read: every scene with Michael Fassbender) to redeem itself. And fans seem to agree. Earning an “A-” on Cinemascore, the general consensus suggests that Apocalypse is still largely enjoyable despite its flaws. And yet, the film has received mostly negative reviews, indicating a significant divide between critic rating and audience approval.

Much like the maligned Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Apocalypse is now the second major superhero film this year to be panned by critics but ultimately embraced by fans. If both films are such disasters, then why are fans defending them?

Notice the stark contrast between the audience score and aggregate critic score (Courtesy of CosmicBookNews)

First of all, they’re not actually the trainwrecks that some critics would lead audiences to believe. Are Batman v Superman and X-Men: Apocalypse disappointing? Yes. But they’re undeserving of their rather abysmal Rotten Tomatoes scores. For example, less than 10 percent of tweets about Batman v Superman were actually negative in the week following its release. Twitter reactions are admittedly embellished as users are forced to be as expressive as possible within 140 characters or less. While an imperfect representation of the general audience, it can be a fairly good indicator of consumer sentiment, which has trended generally positively for both films.

Second, it’s important to understand just how culturally influential these superheroes are. While the shared superhero cinematic universe is a relatively new idea, the characters are certainly not. Superman and Batman debuted in 1938 and 1939, respectively. The X-Men made their first appearance in 1963. Drawing from a vast well of comic book history, superhero films are a culmination of stories that have inspired fans across generations.

Like any good piece of pop culture, comic books have the power to influence perspective. What is fantasy on paper, transcends the page, becoming an inseparable part of fans’ identities. So even when the criticism is appropriate, fans feel threatened as if they’re personally being attacked.

It makes sense, then, why fans often take reviews so seriously. By defending the film, they’re really defending themselves too. It’s the same reason why most adaptations are frequently met with such apprehension. A poorly adapted book, video game, etc. reflects poorly on the original source material, ultimately tainting it’s legacy. Consequently, the respective fan-base is also discredited, simply by a matter of association.

The relevant film in question isn’t the only thing at risk. Bad reviews threaten the possibility of future sequels, denying fans the chance at seeing their favorite characters again on the big screen. Past, present, and future become vulnerable all at once.

While understanding fan perspective is important, critics aren’t necessarily wrong either.To suggest that either of these films are flawless would be incredibly naive. Even the most passionate fans have expressed some level of disappointment in their defenses. In fact, the buzz leading up to both films, particularly Batman v Superman, may be correlated to why many were left feeling so unfulfilled.

Too much excitement is almost always better than not enough. Hype is an intangible feeling that is usually converted into material profits, primarily during opening weekend. Naturally, a problem arises when movies fail to live up to their established hype.

Prior to release, most negative buzz can be managed by strategic marketing and PR. Was the first trailer received poorly? Just change the second trailer’s tone. Did the test screening not go over well? Order reshoots to alter the film’s pacing and structure. But once a film is released, damage control is difficult.

Poor word-of-mouth spreads like wildfire, ultimately impacting the one thing that studios revere most – the box office. Batman v Superman demonstrated just how powerful critic disapproval can be in derailing a film’s box office longevity. After opening to the biggest global superhero debut of all time with $420.1 million, the film set a second record. It just wasn’t quite the type that Warner Bros. wanted – a staggering 81% Friday-to-Friday box office drop.

By comparison, Apocalypse also took a considerable hit between its first and second Fridays at the box office, dropping 75%. The X-Men films have never been exceptional box office champs, and for the ninth film in the franchise, it’s not particularly surprising. The real shocker is Batman v Superman’s box office run.

Neither a massive hit nor a financial flop, Batman v Superman exists in a liminal space between the two, appropriately mirroring the film’s polarizing reception. $871 million is nothing to scoff at. But $871 million isn’t cool. You know what’s cool? A billion dollars.

GIF courtesy of KlientBoost.com

This is Batman and Superman – arguably the two most iconic characters in American comic book history. A billion dollar return seemed almost inevitable. The film’s inability to achieve that elite Hollywood target came as a surprise to almost everyone, especially Warner Bros. Therein lies a shift in audience behavior even more concerning than the disparity among critics and fans – the widening gap between expectations and reality.

James Wan, director of the upcoming live action Aquaman film, recently touched on this point, offering a poignant thought while addressing Batman v Superman‘s backlash: “I think it’s a world that is so difficult to control. And always, expectations of fans are just out of this world, right?” Much like death and taxes, a dissatisfied fan can always be counted on, but the last few years have proved especially hostile. Pinpointing the exact point at which expectations got so out of control is difficult. Ascribing blame is even harder. Instead, attempting to understand the trend as a natural progression of the last decade could prove insightful.

In the past ten years alone, Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy reinvented the superhero genre and the Marvel Cinematic Universe was born. Inevitably, audiences became spoiled. As fans, we are inundated with consistently good to great comic book movies. Sure, there’s the occasional stinker (looking at you, Fantastic Four reboot), but on balance, most of these movies are average at worst. Whether “superhero fatigue” is a reality or not, there’s no denying that this is the golden age of the comic book film. By 2020, an astonishing 31 more superhero films will be released, excluding an additional 9 films confirmed without a release date.

Graphic courtesy of ComicsAlliance.com

Believe it or not, the amount of superhero films hasn’t changed much in the past 10-15 years. Between 2000 and the start of the Marvel Cinematic Universe in 2008, there were anywhere from four to seven superhero films released each year. If that’s the case, then why does it feel like there are so many more now? The only difference is quality.

In retrospect, what seems like a dearth of content was actually just a disproportionate amount of bad endeavors. Genre classics such as Spider-Man 2 and Batman Begins had the unfortunate historical luck of sharing their respective release years, 2004 and 2005, with infamous flops like Catwoman, Blade: Trinity, Elektra and Fantastic Four. The dog days are over, and audiences have no intention of seeing them return.

Maintaining such high expectations places considerable pressure on studios to remain relevant. Diving into this space is not for the faint of heart. It’s a high risk, high reward business that requires patience beyond Hollywood’s typical comfort zone. Ignoring the long game proved to be Warner Bros. biggest mistake.

Rather than crafting a careful strategy, Warner Bros. rushed to market, much to Batman v Superman’s detriment. By virtue of its title alone, Batman v Superman was supposed to be an epic 80 years in the making. To compound things, “Dawn of Justice” implied that it was the rock upon which Warner Bros. would build DC’s cinematic universe. Batman v Superman wasn’t just responsible for its own success; it carried the burden of 10 films prematurely announced to be released by 2020. With so much riding on its success, the film may have just been doomed from the start. Warner Bros. isn’t alone, though, in its inability to properly adapt it’s most iconic comic book properties.

Fox and Bryan Singer’s interpretation of Apocalypse in the latest X-Men film suggests a fundamental misunderstanding of the character. Artistic license and interpretation is expected, but the film’s character design leaves much to be desired.

Film vs. Comic (Image courtesy of Reddit)

Ivan Ooze jokes aside, the character pales in comparison to his comic book counterpart, doing very little outside of monologuing to appear threatening. Given the film’s flat script, Oscar Isaac delivers a serviceable performance as the titular villain. Unfortunately, that’s where the praise ends. Introducing the X-Men’s greatest and most fearsome foe, only to be so underwhelming, is a massive missed opportunity.

Twelve years ago, a film like Apocalypse may have been warmly received. Today, it feels like a product of a forgotten era. Much is owed to Fox and Bryan Singer for ushering in the modern superhero film with X-Men and X-Men 2, but that goodwill can only extend so far.

X-Men: Apocalypse is frustratingly average. Batman v Superman takes risks that don’t pay off. Where do Warner Bros. and Fox go from here? Breaking even has gifted both studios a second chance at redemption. Justice League is well into production at Warner Bros. and Fox has already confirmed the 90s as the backdrop for their next X-Men film. But second chances are value-neutral; it’s an opportunity to take corrective action or simply repeat the same behavior. Fortunately, the former scenario seems to be gaining momentum.

Warner Bros. recently announced a slew of executive shakeups, most notably being the appointment of DC’s Chief Creative Officer, Geoff Johns, as head of their DC films division. At Fox, Bryan Singer suggested that he would be stepping away from the X-Men franchise indefinitely. Both developments are positive steps in the right direction for their comic book franchises. For real progress to be occur, the onus isn’t just on Hollywood.

One scathing review of X-Men: Apocalypse claimed that the X-Men films need to evolve, or more appropriately, grow up. The same sentiment should be extended to critics and fans alike. Step one is recognizing and accepting that a problem exists in the first place.

Current critic culture is fundamentally flawed, often following a black and white approach to their assessments. Reviews seem to only fall on two ends of the spectrum – hyperbolic praise or merciless scrutiny. There’s very little middle ground between the two. A film can be enjoyable yet ultimately flawed without being crucified. Complete loss of audience trust is inevitable if critics continue to misrepresent the films they review. If critics are expected to change, cooperation from fans is necessary.

As the modern Greek myths, superheroes command an innate level of wonder and awe. It’s impossible to not feel excitement at the sight of these heroes brought to life. Continually expecting the next Citizen Kane, though, will only lead to further disappointment. A high standard should absolutely be maintained, but balance is key. Otherwise, genuine enthusiasm can quickly give way to delusional behavior if left unchecked. Ultimately, a crash course in expectation management would prove revelatory.

Reshaping core beliefs takes time and may not be easy, but an effort must be made. For a complex issue, the treatment for all parties may be relatively simple. Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst. More importantly, try to have a good time. It’s easy to forget just how lucky we are.

When all else seems lost, just remember, Batman and Robin still happened, and ask yourself, “Is it really that bad?”

#NeverForget (Image courtesy of TheVerge.com)