There’s a moment early in Spider-Noir when Nicolas Cage, playing washed-up private investigator Ben Reilly, stares at a photograph of a beautiful young woman and then looks back at her older husband with complete disbelief. “You a rich man?” he asks bluntly.
That single line tells you almost everything about the series. It’s funny, sharp, stylish and wildly entertaining.
Prime Video and MGM+’s Spider-Noir is unlike any superhero series currently on television. Set in a rain-soaked 1933 Manhattan, the eight-episode series blends classic film noir with comic-book mythology, turning Spider-Man lore into a smoky detective thriller filled with gangsters, nightclub singers and psychologically damaged villains.
And in the middle of all this chaos is Cage, giving one of the most unrestrained performances of his career. This isn’t the same Spider-Man Noir character he voiced in Into the Spider-Verse. Here, Ben Reilly is older and sadder. He is a former vigilante known as The Spider who abandoned heroism after failing to save the woman he loved.
Now he drinks too much, barely keeps his detective agency alive and wanders through the city.
And Cage plays him to the T. The actor growls narration in an old-Hollywood tone, delivers razor-dry insults, and balances emotional and absurd scenes with equal gusto. At one point, he contorts himself across a room while rediscovering his Spider powers in a bizarre scene but makes it riveting.
Cage’s performance will absolutely divide viewers. Some will find it self-indulgent. Others will see it as the kind of no-holds-barred acting that has made him such a fascinating screen presence for decades. The truth probably lies somewhere in between.
Visually, the show is stunning. Each episode is available in both black-and-white and colour, though the monochrome version is clearly the definitive experience. Shot like an old-school noir thriller, the series leans heavily into shadows, cigarette smoke, rain-slicked streets and dramatic lighting. The city feels dangerous, lonely and strangely romantic all at once.
Some frames look like they’ve been lifted straight out of an old Hollywood detective film. Others resemble moving comic-book panels.
The colour version showcases the detailed production design and costumes more clearly, but the black-and-white presentation gives the series its identity. It turns Spider-Noir into a pulpy fever dream.
And then there’s the supporting cast.
Brendan Gleeson plays the menacing mob boss Silvermane, a cigar-chomping gangster who rules the city’s criminal underworld with brutal efficiency. Karen Rodriguez is excellent as Janet, Reilly’s fed-up secretary who’s tired of working for a man who can barely pay her. Jack Huston delivers some of the show’s strongest dramatic moments as Flint Marko, whose slow transformation into Sandman becomes unexpectedly tragic. Lamorne Morris also stands out as journalist Robbie Robertson.
The story itself, however, is less consistent. The central mystery involving mutated criminals, corrupt politicians and organised crime occasionally loses momentum, especially in the middle episodes. There are stretches where the series becomes so invested in recreating noir aesthetics that it forgets to keep the narrative moving. Even the romance between Reilly and nightclub singer Cat Hardy (Li Jun Li) lacks the spark.
Still, Spider-Noir becomes far more interesting whenever it starts embracing its own madness.
A late-season episode titled Nightmare on a Gurney is where the show truly comes alive, diving into surreal psychological horror in ways no live-action Spider-Man project has attempted before. Suddenly, the series stops feeling like homage and starts feeling original, and unpredictable.
That unpredictability becomes the show’s biggest strength.