If you've seen Spider-Man: Homecoming, I want to talk to you about The Vulture. (If you haven't seen Spider-Man: Homecoming, that's cool too, but maybe duck out after a few more sentences.) As Adrian Toomes, Michael Keaton delivers a tremendously entertaining performance that's perfectly calibrated for the kind of story that Homecoming is telling—one of a kid just learning how to use his powers, and figure out where he fits into a world of super-people. Toomes is a perfect threat to the newbie spider-kid, a jilted average joe that has turned to crime out of a sort of coarse pragmatism, a menacing antithesis to Peter's naiveté. But there's a twist to Toomes' backstory that's played for a huge surprise near the end, and it's one of the smartest touches a Marvel movie has ever pulled off—but it resonates most deeply if you're paying close attention.

This is your spoiler warning.

As Homecoming enters its final act during the night of the titular dance, Peter—having fallen out of favor with Tony Stark and lost his cool high-tech suit—is on his way to meet his date, Liz, at her place. Only when he gets to the door, it's Adrian Toomes who answers it. Turns out his date's dad is also a supervillain. Super relatable!

Spider-Man: Homecoming Gets One Very Important Thing Right Finally, a Spider-Man who shops at bodegas.

For a third act reveal, this is mostly fine, if a little too neat—it makes the film have to be unnecessarily vague about aspects of both Liz's and Adrian's background, and brings a "just-add-water" level of patness to building dramatic tension. But its presentation takes it beyond a simple elevation of stakes. Because, if you were watching closely, the movie tells you that this twist is coming way ahead of time.

More than a lot of movies, Spider-Man: Homecoming cares a lot about conveying the feeling of its setting, with special attention to class dynamics. The Queens, New York of Homecoming isn't geographically correct in any specific way (the subway stop by Peter's high school certainly doesn't exist) and it's likely kept that way in order to not invite too much scrutiny. No neighborhoods are really name checked, although if I had to guess, I'd say it's shooting for a Woodside/Jackson Heights sort of feel, in order to ditch the more suburb-y vibe of comic book Peter's Forest Hills home. Peter and his aunt live in an apartment now.

In Homecoming's Queens, there are old Dominican ladies asking for directions, a high school full of more brown kids than white ones, buildings and bodegas and apartments that weren't built to accommodate so many damn people but they sigh and creak and do it anyway. People mix and mingle. Peter, a white kid of Italian descent, knows conversational Spanish. It's a consistent aesthetic, and one that feels extraordinarily real despite being largely assembled and shot in Georgia. So when, early on in Spider-Man: Homecoming, Liz throws a party for her high school friends, it's easy to notice something right away: Her house is huge.

It's not implausibly big—the kids in Homecoming attend a magnet school, and it isn't terribly far-fetched that some of its students might live in neighborhoods a bit removed from Midtown's immediate neighborhood (the line between "Queens, a boro of New York City" and "suburban Long Island" can be a blurry one in some areas)—but it is noticeable. We don't see a lot of homes in Spider-Man: Homecoming—mostly just Peter's apartment—but the film is consistent in its aesthetic, enough that Liz's house feels immediately out of step. It's big enough for Flash Thompson to set up a DJ station in the middle of the living room; it has a pool, modern furniture, decor, and appliances abound. It's almost like the movie warped to L.A.

Liz's house feels immediately out of step. Ever notice when a house in your neighborhood is maybe too big? The poorer kids certainly do, and they'll probably joke about how the owner could afford it: Mob money.

Ever notice when a house in your neighborhood is maybe too big? A touch too extravagant? The poorer kids certainly do, and unless the homeowner's well-known, they'll probably joke about how the owner could afford it: Mob money. It's an easy joke to make, especially if you live in an area where both history and pop culture make it seem extremely plausible—like in New Jersey, or literally anywhere on Long Island. That's what Liz's house feels like when compared to every other setting in Homecoming. And it's not commented on, nor are there many other signifiers for Liz being well-off. Her home is a detail that's simply presented in the party scene, and moved on from—until that one scene near the end.