I'll go because it's air-conditioned

I could not care less about seeing Spider Man, but if friends invite me to movies, I generally go. Below is the New Yorker's review of the "re-boot" of Spiderman. I love the New Yorker sometimes only because it is so ridiculously brainy and verbose. Anyone who, in one review of *Spiderman*, mentions Faust AND Shakespeare is trying AWFULLY hard. It just is so funny. The comments on Rotten Tomatoes (which I generally don't like) are somewhat amusing if not misguided. See, I'm trying to do it too, but does that make sense? I don't think misguided is the right word. Oh, I know, I'll say that their memory of the installments of Spiderman is like Monsieur Swann recalling Odette's Boticelli-like face in the first of Proust's "Remembrance of Things Past" series. That makes just about no sense. But seriously, I think people often give the New Yorker a lot of shit because they don't understand. They don't understand because they don't want to think. This is the same reason many people don't like Shakespeare--they know they're supposed to--but they don't. Why? Because they don't understand it? Why don't they understand it? Because they have to think about it. They don't want to think about it. So...my opinion is that the New Yorker is somewhat similar to Shakespeare in that if you think about it, it's very clever, but if you don't think about it, it makes no sense.
New Yorker Review of Spiderman