Spider-Man 3 (Major Spoilers)

The Spider-man films have been a real turning point in comic adaptations. While not slavishly sticking to the original storylines they have kept them in mind and what has translated most clearly to the screen is the enthusiasm that the production team have for Spider-man and his world.

The first film succeeded in laying the foundations for the franchise without dulling it's own effect. It was an exciting, fresh film that for the first time took you web swinging through Manhattan and showed you a spiders eye view of New York. The second built on this by developing the regular characters themes and also retelling the sad tale of Otto Octavius; it achieved these aims with aplomb and resulted in an exciting, breathtaking film that quickly joined the limited ranks of sequels that surpass their predecessors.

Anticipation for Spider-Man 3 has been high indeed, particularly in my household. It is sad to report then that this latest venture was, while not a failure, certainly not a qualified success. The problem is that the film gives itself too much hard work to do; and in this perhaps Raimi and co's enthusiasm has back-fired. It takes as it's subject matter not just Peter's love triangle with MJ and Gwen Stacy, but also the rivalry with Eddie Brock, the creation of Venom and Flint Marko, and the culmination of the ongoing story of Harry Osborn's obsession with destroying Spider-man; who he believes to be responsible for his fathers death. If that reads like a long list it's because it is. Juggling so many strands it's surprising that it manages to *ahem* spin them together effectively largely without showing the authors hand. Indeed it is only in the climactic yet improbable team-up of villains that events seem contrived.

What is less surprising however is that none of the listed plots are explored in the depth they deserve. Gwen Stacy is superfluous and the inclusion of her father, a cruel tease for fanboys, is entirely pointless. Mary Jane, at the centre of events and pivotal to the plot, is given less to do than in preceding films and comes across as selfish and whiney. Whilst these can be traits of the character it does seem unfair on Kirsten Dunst after two strong turns.

The Sandman, here with an added sob story tacked on and then forgotten, is a great character who is used only for visual effect and in the already mentioned unlikely team-up with Venom. Eddie Brock is one dimensional, and his fusion with the symbiote suit will make sense only to those who fill in the blanks with their knowledge of the source text. As for the alien itself it appears to be named only in the end credits and apart from some, staggeringly accurate, guesses from Dr Connors (another continued fanboy tease) nothing more is learned about it. A further irritation is that it is destroyed at the end meaning either an awkward resurrection or no return appearances.

Harry Osborn on the other hand is given a chance to shine in this outing. Having discovered his fathers secret lair at the close of Spidey 2 he has familiarised himself with it's contents by the time we rejoin him. His subsequent memory loss after a Spider induced head injury allows James Franco to be freed from the dull brooding frown-fest of his last appearance. The scenes where he is painting and making omelette's with Mary Jane are touching even if you know it can never last. Sure enough the memory of his father has him back to his evil ways before long. His story and his ultimate redemption are well handled though and probably the most satisfying element of the film. Sadly they do reduce the impact of his final moments by playing them out too long.

Tobey Maguire is as sympathetic as ever as trouble laden Peter Parker. He really comes to life though in his bad-Peter stint. The jazz cafe dance sequence and his Travolta-ish strutting are hilarious as Emo-Parker shows his moves under the spell of the black suit. Maguire can convey more emotion with a look, a stance or a smile than many of his contemporaries could with a monologue.

J. Jonah Jameson, The Bugle Staff, Dr Connors, Mr Ditkovitch, Ursula and Bruce Campbell all get beefier appearances than previously while Aunt May seems a little poorly served. Stan Lee's obligatory appearance is perhaps a little more distracting than usual; 'Nuff said.

In summary the film is very enjoyable. Throughout it's mighty running time it holds the interest. They succeed in tying up most of the threads that have run through the preceding films yet the ending is underwhelming as Peter is once again left alone while MJ walks away. With the news that Sony intend at least another three films ringing in our ears there is still plenty of time for Peter and Mary Jane to get married, seperated, cloned and retconned but it would have been nice to see this trilogy end with these actors playing the parts and their characters united. Sony shouldn't assume that Raimi, Maguire, Dunst or their supporting cast and crew will stick around forever.

hell is other cinemas...

When I was a child I loved going to the cinema. If I could have gone everyday I would have. I loved queuing, popcorn, I loved the anticipation of waiting for the curtain to go up. The merchandise stand. The trailers were a highlight surpassed only by the feature itself.


How did it come to be that the boy who loved going to the pictures could come to so despise the inconvenience of having to leave the house to see a film. As it stands these days I have to use the cover of daylight for my quick forays to the multiplex... ah multiplexes... to see whatever I'm after. I can't face going in the evening as I'll be surrounded by other people, damn them.


It's not all cinemas mind you. I'm a big fan of Chapter, my local art house cinema/arts centre. There's a lovely little cinema next to New Street station in Birmingham called the Electric where they used to sell home made cakes instead of popcorn. These are places that hark back to those halcyon days of my youth, or better yet; to a time when most films weren't rubbish and most cinema goers weren't idiots with heads full of glossy magazines.


My usual cinema of choice, the Cineworld, has become familiar ground. I know where I am with it's dodgy revolving door that I can't quite shuffle through without feeling like a moron; and the cashiers who seem to be praying for the blessed release of a sudden aneurysm. I don't mind that there's so much glass in the place that you feel like the animated Fox trying to ascend the Glacier Mint in those adverts the cinema loving child I used to be so enjoyed. I don't even mind all that much when I have to wait to enter the theatre in an inadequately sized room with a bunch of the strange, socially retarded weirdos that can't face going to the cinema when it's busy (which is to say people like me).


I thought I hated the Cineworld; but fate had a lesson in store for me.


I have returned from a sortie to the Vue. Where the ticket counter stands idle whilst the refreshment bar offers tickets. Where the volume so loud that my eardrums are playing a military beat before the film even starts.


Then there's the entertainment. When I was a boy you got a cartoon and the feature, maybe a trailer or two. Now you just get a stream of adverts beaten into your head while you sit strapped into a seat by your own money. Dross even worse than the tripe I mute at home in the advert break halfway through Peep Show.


Three Guinness ad's; a baffling short film that seemed to be about how cool being drunk is but turned out to be for Playstation Three, which is then revisited just before the trailers; two Mitchell and Webb Mac ads (may they burn in hell forever), and incidentally what is the naughty step all about - what you can't password protect content on the PC? Presumably Mac prefers to use the superinformation highway to submit children to snuff films, happy slapping mobile phone videos and dutch pigeon-fisting marathons; coke (Wayne Rooney representing the beautiful game); Carling; a bizarre advert that shows us that driving your car into children at 80mph is bad but at 30mph it's OK. Even better to avoid hitting children in your car altogether surely? That disturbing one with the superhero retrieving the girls purse who turns out to be the sort of lagered up throwback that 'OYOY's at you in the street on Sunday morning at eight o'clock when you're on your way to work and they've not yet made it home; an interminable nokia ad; a reasonably amusing orange ad and one that shows you what a pirate version of Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer might have looked like had it been made fifteen years ago by someone whose equipment was antiquated even then.


When we finally get to the film trailers they seem to only last a third as long as the adverts did. Even so I was exhausted enough to leave then. I've just paid for that, I was thinking, surely the advertisers pay for their screentime? Am I being ripped off?


By the time the film starts I'm so mentally and emotionally drained I just want to come home.


Still, at least it was half price Tuesday.

You're not blogging in there are you?

It's Bank Holiday Monday and the beginning of my week off. Well I was off yesterday as well but spent most of the day fiddling with my new blog. This blog draws together all of the bloggy stuff I've had a go at before and going forward will be the venting point for any journal entries, writing news, reviews or diatribes I feel it necessarry to spit into the inertweb.

The week ahead is intended to be one of writing. I want to come out of this weekwith a couple of short stories complete and a new script underway. I have to commit to one script because at the moment I'm hopping between too many ideas. It's now six months since my reply from the BBC regarding Riks Records, my sitcom pilot, and I am no closer to submitting the solicited second script.

Little man got big job to do!

The Lazarus Experiment

Despite the slight apathy I was feeling after last weeks episode I had regained my Doctor Who excitement by mid-week, no doubt at least partly thanks to a shiny new issue of Doctor Who Magazine and a few sly episodes of Frontier in Space. Therefore all was right with the world again when I sat down to watch episode six of the third series; The Lazarus Experiment.

Fairly straight forward story but so well executed. The Doctor gets to be a proper science whizz and fiddle with wires and all that sort of boffin stuff, Gatiss was excellent as a baddie not so far from the Doctor's level of intelligence and I loved their scenes together. This episode makes Mark Gatiss only the third person to have written for and acted in Doctor Who since 1963. I bet he's pleased as punch (whatever that does mean). He must have ben thrilled to be a part of an episode that homages Nigel Kneale as much as this one does with all it's science tapping into ancient horrors. Thelma Barlow was an unexpected boon in this story as I hadn't expected a great deal from her part. Lady Thaw was as much of a monster as Lazarus.

The monster was grotesque and well realised. Scrabbling along corridors and leaping across balconies. Very scary.

Mr Saxon's Evil Little Helper was a nice touch - really building him up aren't they. How long has he been watching the Doctor? Since Canary Wharf? Since the Sycorax invasion? Since the Slitheen? He must be very well prepared to take the Doctor on when he's good and ready. Whoever he is.

Not crazy about Martha's family but they serve their purpose. Considering her Mother seems to have an extra function as Mr Saxon's pawn I'm not thrilled with the acting so far; Adjoa Andoh seems to be a bit more Albert Square than the Powell Estate. Also it seems to me that Reggie off of radio one may as well not be in it so far. Why were they all invited to this experiment anyway?

Martha is briliant and I much prefer her to Rose; and also that her relationship to the Doctor is very different. The Doctor manages to be rude or insulting to her at least once an episode - which I love. He's got a real edge to him now. She keeps making moon eyes at him though so I guess that'll be where it goes.

DT, free of the winking atavism of last weeks closing scenes, is splendid here. Cool and distant to Martha at the beginning; his interaction with Martha, her Mother, and most of all Lazarus is a pitch perfect pleasure. Best of all is the Cathedral conversation between Lazarus and the Doctor. 'You think history's only made with equations?' Lot's of great dialogue throughout the script.

With it's glossy look and fast pacing topped off with multiple climaxes, this story felt more like a good old fashioned SF blockbuster and I think that was the right thing to follow last weeks psuedophilosphical clunking imagery and Star Trek sentimentality. As a result I was already grinning all over my face when the episode ended...

AND THEN... there's the trailer. We're halfway through the series and at the risk of jinxing it I don't see what can go wrong with any of the remaining episodes, Jack, Saxon, Cornell, Moffatt, Chibnall, Derek frickin' Jacobi! If the scarecrows and spaceships and explosions weren't enough for you there's John Simm in a room full of dead or incapacitated people wearing a respirator and tapping the table. The scariest thing I've seen in Who yet.

Vote Saxon!