**Warning: Spoilers ahead for Spider-Man: Brand New Day.**
Marvel has always had a way of externalising emotions I often find hard to express, in a visible, tangible way, especially when it comes to grief.
After my dad died when I was sixteen, I harboured a Hulk-like rage that burned underneath my skin, that stifled down under the pressure to go back to normal. WandaVision shouldn’t be a substitute for therapy, but I can’t deny that for me, it’s close. Yet, I wasn’t expecting Spider-Man: Brand New Day to portray such a powerful depiction of grief not as something to ‘get over’, but a defining transformation.
Aunt May’s death has forced the light-hearted web-headed hero to mature from an energetic, often overly enthusiastic teenager to a man married to the job of hiding behind a mask. As he’s been wiped from existence in his friend’s memories, Peter is not only grieving the parental figure he lost, but the life with his friends, Ned and MJ too, who are living the life they dreamt of without him.
Extended isolation after such an immense trauma, alongside the burden of carrying such great responsibility as a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, causes Peter’s arachnid hormones to spike. His DNA starts to mutate to become more spider than human, a reflection of his ever-slipping grip on having a life outside the suit.
Peter’s instinct is to suppress and control the evolution of his powers, as it gives him debilitating migraines, sensory overload and destabilises his regular routine of swinging into action for every crime alert in New York.
So naturally, Tony Stark’s prodigy gets to work with the help of his AI-sidekick EV (and the MCU’s resident scientist, Bruce Banner) to build an inhibitor that can silence strands of his DNA in the hopes of restoring the biological and emotional regulation he had before. It’s a natural response to want to go back to the way things were before someone died, before everything changed for the worse. But it quickly becomes clear that isn’t possible. That life and person are gone, and someone new is emerging: someone stronger than before.
Peter’s powers have changed, irreversibly, as a result of his loss. It’s not something he can prevent or alter, as it’s his body’s physical reaction to grief, suppressing his emotions, distracting himself with work and exhaustion from burnout. Brand New Day emphasises that grief isn’t simply a set of stages that you work through, and poof, you’re back to how everything was before. It’s an experience that defines who you become next.
Similarly, when Jean realises that her sister Sarah died in the chair she’s now sat in, and the last thing she saw was a worn old half-disintegrated label on the ceiling vent that read ‘v-max’, her powers erupt instantaneously. She isn’t restricted to jumping from person to person, telepathically, in a limited range around her anymore; instead, she can hold hundreds of people’s minds all at once with no effort at all. All of which was an impossible task even moments before.
In Brand New Day, grief unlocks the magnitude of Jean and Peter’s abilities. It isn’t just a wound for them to heal; instead, these deaths fundamentally change who they are. New levels of pain strip away any unconscious inhibitions that held them back, so that they can now tap into the true wells of power that previously lay dormant within them. Bereavement destroys the person they were before to reveal someone far more capable than they ever thought possible. And that doesn’t just happen because Peter and Jean lost their loved ones, but because they had their love and influence in the first place.
Learning to live without someone you love is a painful, confusing and draining transition that lasts much longer than a few days or weeks or months, trust me. It’s also a journey that Peter realises he can no longer navigate alone. Without having May to anchor him back to himself, as the man he is behind the mask, he’s lost. Adrift from everything and everyone who made him who he is.
In the end, it’s the memory of Aunt May that can save both Jean and Peter from their self-destructive path, as in conversation with her memory, she reminds them of how special and loved they are, not because of their gifts, but because of who they are as a person.
Brand New Day offers a relatable reminder to not suppress, resist or avoid the deep pain of losing someone you love, as it’s a defining experience that will ultimately make you stronger. No one wants to hear it at the time (or at least, I didn’t), but it’s true.
I relate immensely to grief as a period of metamorphosis, often an ugly one, filled with rage, sadness and depression that forces us to adapt as it reshapes our identity. At the time, I was told that I didn’t need to let my dad’s death define me, as though I had a choice, but I always felt that it was impossible. How could it not? It shifted my entire perspective of life (mainly how fragile and fleeting it is), my future and my identity.
Similar to Peter, who in the end learns to co-exist as both Peter Parker and this evolved Spider-Man, I realised that I’m both the girl I was before and after my dad died. I’m not defined as “the girl whose dad died”, but I did become someone new from losing him, someone more able to face every bad day, grateful for the lessons, love and advice he gave me, than I was over a decade ago when it happened (and I was just trying to survive the change).
Most of us won’t be able to physically see the strength, resilience and grit we develop after losing people we love, especially not in the bicep-breaking, web-wielding way that it manifests for Peter. But it’s always there, beneath the surface. Proof of the love, loss and journey that you’ve survived. It’s only when you stop trying to fight this new normal and embrace that this is your new reality that you’re able to find a level of stability and peace again.
Grief, in the end, is an irreversible change to the fundamental fabric of your life, or in this case, Peter’s actual DNA. Struggling to cope with this transition isn’t a weakness (as we’ve been told time and time again); here it’s shown for what it is: a very human response to an involuntary change (that no one wanted or asked for) that has been caused by losing such a pivotal part of who you are.
Spider-Man: Brand New Day is out now in cinemas.
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