I expected the sequel to go bigger, louder, and dumber. It does go bigger, but it's also basically a romantic drama with webbing — feelings first, physics second. The love story is pushed right to the front, with Peter and MJ stuck in that loop of doubts, missed timing, and "just talk to each other" misery.
Sam Raimi, though, is clearly having more fun. The direction has extra swagger, like he's realised he can lean into his own weirdness. The darker, nastier flourishes that feel borrowed from his horror roots, and when the film lets him get gnarly, it perks up.
Time hasn't been kind to some of the CGI. The stuff that was once awards-season celebrated now has that early-2000s rubbery sheen. And the emotional spirals repeat too often Still, there's a likeable sincerity to it, and Raimi's confidence keeps it rolling — even when it's not quite sticking the landing.