I've had to get used to a lot of different things since moving to Hong Kong. The weather is very different, as I've mentioned before. Obviously, my surroundings are very different, having moved from a small town in the countryside where I lived on my own, to the middle of a big city where I live with three other people. There are the obvious language differences and, while Hong Kong (along with Singapore) is probably the "easiest" of entry points to the East, the culture is very different.
Culture is difficult to define and covers many different things but it's the little things that I'm noticing the most: no one seems to think twice about burping loudly here; there's a lot of hawking and spitting; people use toothpicks far more than I'm used to. The biggest thing - and I'm struggling this quite a bit more than I thought I would - is that we have a helper.
There are something in the region of 300,000 foreign domestic workers in Hong Kong - mostly from the Philippines but also from Indonesia and Thailand. The prevalence of foreign domestic workers (I'll just use "helpers" from now on) in Hong Kong is a great example of where two countries, on very different tracks, have been able to assist each other in an unusual way. During the 1970s, Hong Kong's economy was booming, causing labour shortages, whilst the economy in the Philippines was not doing so well.
Changes to labour laws in the Philippines encouraged individuals work abroad, whilst making it easier to bring money earned overseas into the country. The labour vacuum in Hong Kong hoovered a vast number of those individuals into the country, first from the Philippines and, subsequently, from other countries. It's one of the quirks of Hong Kong: every Sunday, all the helpers have a day off and they congregate in huge groups in various areas. Where we live at the moment is an Indonesian area, so on Sundays the local park is a riot of coloured headscarves and calls to prayer.
It's not all fun and games; some helpers are extremely poorly treated and there are often unscrupulous employers who cause issues around their terms and conditions of work. There's also been a long and acrimonious dispute about the helpers' legal entitlement to remain in Hong Kong. It's a complex and sensitive situation and I don't pretend to understand all the ins and outs of it. What it does mean is that every family that has a helper (and an awful lot of them do) is actually an employer - a situation which is very different to the UK.
So this role of employer is one that I have inherited since I moved here. I contribute to the expenses in running the house, the helper's wage is one of the expenses, therefore I partly pay her wages therefore I'm partly her boss. This new role is the thing with which I'm having the most difficulty since my move and I'm at a loss to explain why.
For the first few weeks, when I was at home during the day, I hid inside the bedroom and didn't come out if she was in the living room. Since then, I've gotten a little more comfortable - but not much. I seem to be almost completely unable to actually ask her to do anything - whenever I actually get the courage to do so, I feel terrible about it, as if I'm disturbing her.
She calls me "sir" - something with which I am deeply uncomfortable but am assured is right and proper. At the moment, as I write this, she's cooking me lunch and I had to be almost bullied and cajoled into asking her to do that. Perhaps it's a little working class squeamishness about having "staff" or a reluctance to have people "serve" me but I just find it very alien.
It's my problem, entirely: she doesn't have any issue with it at all. In fact, my insistence on doing a lot of things for myself - stuff that is, technically, her job - is probably a bit insulting. But it's the way I feel at the moment and I'm trying hard to change it. Of all the things that I thought I might find difficult, being a "boss" wasn't anywhere on the list.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Batman ends
When I was a kid, I used to love the Batman TV series. I knew it was silly and I knew, even then, that the character deserved better treatment but it was bright and colourful and taught me two things. Firstly, it taught me the meaning of "camp" and secondly it taught me that directors can do things with cameras to manipulate the way you watch their films or TV programmes. They can send you messages and tell stories through things other than just words. I still remember when I realised that every time the villain was on screen, the camera was tilted at a crazy angle. The director was telling me that the world was out of balance while whoever it was that week - the Joker, the Penguin, the Riddler - was at large. Batman restored order and balance, made things level again.
When I was older, I read The Dark Knight and loved it. I read Batman: Year One and loved that, too. I watched Tim Burton's two Batman movies and loved them - I though Michael Keaton was great for the part of Bruce Wayne. Then there was Val Kilmer and Robin and George Clooney and nipples and I kind of lost interest in the whole thing again. I'd moved on, I already new what camp meant and there was nothing new to see.
This weekend, I went to see The Dark Knight Rises. (Don't worry - if you haven't seen it, there are no spoilers in this post.) I liked it. TDKR is a good film: I enjoyed it. It's long, but it doesn't feel long. There are some great set-pieces. The actors are all fantastic, especially Anne Hathaway and Michael Caine. It's a good story that has some interesting things to say about the world. I watched Batman Begins and The Dark Knight and I liked them, too.
But I didn't love them, any of them, not the way I loved the TV series, all those years ago; not the way I loved the comic books and the Burton films, for all their flaws. When I stopped to think about it, I didn't love Inception, either; I didn't love Memento or The Prestige or Insomnia. I liked them all and I thought some of them were really clever but none of them engaged me on an emotional level, none of them found a place in my heart.
It's a great finale to a great trilogy but for all its intelligence and brilliance; for all the talent and effort, TDKR felt somehow slightly less than the sum of its parts. It felt hollow, in a way, like there was something missing. Christopher Nolan is a great and intelligent director who makes great and intelligent films. Perhaps if he'd just tilted the camera a little more...
When I was older, I read The Dark Knight and loved it. I read Batman: Year One and loved that, too. I watched Tim Burton's two Batman movies and loved them - I though Michael Keaton was great for the part of Bruce Wayne. Then there was Val Kilmer and Robin and George Clooney and nipples and I kind of lost interest in the whole thing again. I'd moved on, I already new what camp meant and there was nothing new to see.
This weekend, I went to see The Dark Knight Rises. (Don't worry - if you haven't seen it, there are no spoilers in this post.) I liked it. TDKR is a good film: I enjoyed it. It's long, but it doesn't feel long. There are some great set-pieces. The actors are all fantastic, especially Anne Hathaway and Michael Caine. It's a good story that has some interesting things to say about the world. I watched Batman Begins and The Dark Knight and I liked them, too.
But I didn't love them, any of them, not the way I loved the TV series, all those years ago; not the way I loved the comic books and the Burton films, for all their flaws. When I stopped to think about it, I didn't love Inception, either; I didn't love Memento or The Prestige or Insomnia. I liked them all and I thought some of them were really clever but none of them engaged me on an emotional level, none of them found a place in my heart.
It's a great finale to a great trilogy but for all its intelligence and brilliance; for all the talent and effort, TDKR felt somehow slightly less than the sum of its parts. It felt hollow, in a way, like there was something missing. Christopher Nolan is a great and intelligent director who makes great and intelligent films. Perhaps if he'd just tilted the camera a little more...
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Vicente
It is a truth universally acknowledged that an Englishman in want of a conversation topic will turn to the weather. Well, the insult to Jane Austin aside, it's still true - we Brits do love to chunter on about the weather. The great thing about being a Brit in Hong Kong is that there is loads of weather to talk about. And not just any old weather. Oh no, new and interesting weather. More extreme weather, in particular.
I think I may already have mentioned that it was hot when we went to see Big Buddha: 34C, in fact - that's 94F in old money. Plus, I may have whinged on about the humidity, which at this time of the year seems quite high. I don't really understand how humidity works. I could Google it, of course, and then pretend to know but frankly I can't be arsed. It has something to do with the amount of water in the air, I think: it makes it difficult for sweat to evaporate (sweat's primary purpose) and so difficult for you to cool down (because it's the evaporation that cools you). All I know for sure is that humidity is a real pain!
And then there are the typhoons. Boy, do they give you a lot to talk about. We've just had a big one here in Hong Kong, if you'll pardon the expression. Typhoon Vicente just gave us a bit of a whack on its way to the mainland. You want rain, you got it - by the bath-load. You want winds? How about gusts of 160kph+? Vicente was the biggest storm to hit HK since 1999 and reached T10 on the scale here.
Fortunately for most people in HK, it was just an inconvenience; some people got very wet, some people had to stay in the MTR for a couple of hours, but HK seems to have coped pretty well. There were some hospitalisations but, as far as I can tell, none of them were serious. Some trees came down, damaging some cars and, from the news programmes I watched, some reporters may have caught pneumonia from being forced to stand out in it. (I was reminded of the great Ollie Williams, from Family Guy: "it's rainin' sideways!")
T10, for those of you who don't know (and why would you, unless you live here and if you do live here drop me a line, I'd love to meet new friends) is technically a hurricane signal. It means that the sustained wind speed is at least 118kph (about 75mph) or force 12 on the Beaufort scale. That's right, baby: I just had my first hurricane. How was it for you?
I think I may already have mentioned that it was hot when we went to see Big Buddha: 34C, in fact - that's 94F in old money. Plus, I may have whinged on about the humidity, which at this time of the year seems quite high. I don't really understand how humidity works. I could Google it, of course, and then pretend to know but frankly I can't be arsed. It has something to do with the amount of water in the air, I think: it makes it difficult for sweat to evaporate (sweat's primary purpose) and so difficult for you to cool down (because it's the evaporation that cools you). All I know for sure is that humidity is a real pain!
And then there are the typhoons. Boy, do they give you a lot to talk about. We've just had a big one here in Hong Kong, if you'll pardon the expression. Typhoon Vicente just gave us a bit of a whack on its way to the mainland. You want rain, you got it - by the bath-load. You want winds? How about gusts of 160kph+? Vicente was the biggest storm to hit HK since 1999 and reached T10 on the scale here.
Fortunately for most people in HK, it was just an inconvenience; some people got very wet, some people had to stay in the MTR for a couple of hours, but HK seems to have coped pretty well. There were some hospitalisations but, as far as I can tell, none of them were serious. Some trees came down, damaging some cars and, from the news programmes I watched, some reporters may have caught pneumonia from being forced to stand out in it. (I was reminded of the great Ollie Williams, from Family Guy: "it's rainin' sideways!")
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
How To Blog Anonymously (and how not to)
Unusual post today, a reblog from another (far better) writer. As it's a subject close to my heart and someone appears to be trying to suppress this information, I'm happy to forward it on. Do take a moment to read and then make sure you follow her blog.
The Sex Myth: How To Blog Anonymously (and how not to): Further to yesterday's post , this is a list of thoughts prompted by a request from Linkmachinego on the topic of being an anonymous writer...
-MrSmith
The Sex Myth: How To Blog Anonymously (and how not to): Further to yesterday's post , this is a list of thoughts prompted by a request from Linkmachinego on the topic of being an anonymous writer...
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Monky Business
It's not all urban sprawl here in Hong Kong - a short MTR ride will take you away from the skyscrapers and into some quite beautiful countryside. It's a very different side to the city and worth exploring, should you get the chance. An easy place to start is to pay a visit to Lantau Island, to see the Big Buddha, which is what I did at the weekend. I've been there before, a couple of years ago, but what got me back was the opportunity to see a display by some Shaolin Monks.
I have an instinctive attitude to martial arts experts - especially monks. I have a very similar feeling about people in the armed services: it's a kind of default position of awe. I couldn't do what they do and I put on a pedestal anyone who does it. It's a strong enough feeling to make me endure the twenty minute cable car ride to get to the Buddha - a ride that cleverly combines my top two phobias of heights and confined spaces.
(That ride was made easier, incidentally, by two things. Firstly, Scarlet's stirling support and secondly by the fact that some mainland Chinese wanted to have their photograph taken with me. I know this is because they just want to have a picture taken with an oddity - to them - but I like to think it's because they've mistaken me for George Clooney. It's nice on my planet.)
Anyway, the monks didn't disappoint - putting on a fabulously choreographed display of acrobatics and fighting moves that had the crowd gasping, oohing and aahing like they were watching a fireworks display. I was slightly saddened by the fact that, after the display, you could pose for pictures in fighting poses with the monks. That cheapened it a little, for me - I felt that it was disrespectful to the monks themselves and the efforts they make. That aside, it was well worth the trip and I recommend it, should you be in the area.
After the display, Scarlet and I sat and had an ice cream (mango, naturally) and talked about the display. Fishing for a compliment I asked her if she'd love me more if I could do the kind of acrobatics that we'd just seen. I'm still trying to work out what her answer means. She looked me in the eye and, with the sweetest of smiles, replied, "I wouldn't love you less if you couldn't!" And that, I guess, is why I love her.
Quick tip: if you do go, book your cable car tickets in advance, online, especially if you go at the weekend. It costs you nothing extra but it'll save you standing in a queue for about two hours or so. If nothing else, it's worth it for the envious looks you get as you jump the queue!
I have an instinctive attitude to martial arts experts - especially monks. I have a very similar feeling about people in the armed services: it's a kind of default position of awe. I couldn't do what they do and I put on a pedestal anyone who does it. It's a strong enough feeling to make me endure the twenty minute cable car ride to get to the Buddha - a ride that cleverly combines my top two phobias of heights and confined spaces.
(That ride was made easier, incidentally, by two things. Firstly, Scarlet's stirling support and secondly by the fact that some mainland Chinese wanted to have their photograph taken with me. I know this is because they just want to have a picture taken with an oddity - to them - but I like to think it's because they've mistaken me for George Clooney. It's nice on my planet.)
Anyway, the monks didn't disappoint - putting on a fabulously choreographed display of acrobatics and fighting moves that had the crowd gasping, oohing and aahing like they were watching a fireworks display. I was slightly saddened by the fact that, after the display, you could pose for pictures in fighting poses with the monks. That cheapened it a little, for me - I felt that it was disrespectful to the monks themselves and the efforts they make. That aside, it was well worth the trip and I recommend it, should you be in the area.
After the display, Scarlet and I sat and had an ice cream (mango, naturally) and talked about the display. Fishing for a compliment I asked her if she'd love me more if I could do the kind of acrobatics that we'd just seen. I'm still trying to work out what her answer means. She looked me in the eye and, with the sweetest of smiles, replied, "I wouldn't love you less if you couldn't!" And that, I guess, is why I love her.
Quick tip: if you do go, book your cable car tickets in advance, online, especially if you go at the weekend. It costs you nothing extra but it'll save you standing in a queue for about two hours or so. If nothing else, it's worth it for the envious looks you get as you jump the queue!
Big Buddha? This is Davina, please do not swear...
Thursday, July 19, 2012
There is a world elsewhere
I'm not a massive Shakespearean scholar but I like a good play as much as the next man - providing the next man likes a good play. Whatever you think of him, you have to admit that - along with the King James Bible - Shakespeare has added an incredible amount to the English language. Even now, nearly 400 years after his death, we still use phrases that Shakespeare coined. A rose by any other name; the lady doth protest too much; if music be the food of love; all the world's a stage; to sleep, perchance to dream; parting is such sweet sorrow; the winter of our discontent; all that glisters is not gold; the course of true love never did run smooth; method in the madness - I could go on (Don't - Ed). All Shakespeare's and I can almost guarantee that you've heard, or used, some of those phrases in the recent past.
I've seen Shakespeare in the theatre and in the open air but I have a special fondness for Shakespeare in the movies. I love Much Ado About Nothing - yes, I'm the one. I even thought that Romeo + Juliet was kind of fun and a good stab at a modern adaptation. Branagh's Henry V still brings me out in goose-bumps (once more, dear friends...) and I have the full version of Branagh's Hamlet (which I think weighs in at somewhere around four hours) kicking around somewhere which I'll put on one of these days.
All this history is very nice but I love the modern-day adaptations: there's just something about updating Shakespeare that, when done well, really seems to work for me. My favourite has been, up until now, Ian McKellen's Richard III. For me, it's a pitch perfect edit of the play, transposed into an alternate 1930s universe and McKellen even manages to coax some good Shakespearean performances from actors whom you wouldn't normally associate with the bard - especially Robert Downey Jr and Annette Bening. It's well worth a look, if you can find it.
I say "up until now" because I've just watched Coriolanus, starring and directed by Ralph Feinnes. Coriolanus is not one of Shakespeare's better known plays and I think it's fair to say that the cinema release was critically well met but didn't exactly capture the public's imagination. Which is a shame because it's a rollicking good film. Transposed to a modern day, Balkans-like setting, Coriolanus' fate is pretty much obvious from the beginning but Shakespeare's genius (which Feinnes communicates extremely well, both as actor and director) is to make us side with and care for him as he makes what we must nowadays call "his journey."
You don't need me to tell you what films to watch but if you're at a loss for something to do and fancy something that'll engage you for a couple of hours, you could do a lot worse that brushing up your Shakespeare...
I've seen Shakespeare in the theatre and in the open air but I have a special fondness for Shakespeare in the movies. I love Much Ado About Nothing - yes, I'm the one. I even thought that Romeo + Juliet was kind of fun and a good stab at a modern adaptation. Branagh's Henry V still brings me out in goose-bumps (once more, dear friends...) and I have the full version of Branagh's Hamlet (which I think weighs in at somewhere around four hours) kicking around somewhere which I'll put on one of these days.
All this history is very nice but I love the modern-day adaptations: there's just something about updating Shakespeare that, when done well, really seems to work for me. My favourite has been, up until now, Ian McKellen's Richard III. For me, it's a pitch perfect edit of the play, transposed into an alternate 1930s universe and McKellen even manages to coax some good Shakespearean performances from actors whom you wouldn't normally associate with the bard - especially Robert Downey Jr and Annette Bening. It's well worth a look, if you can find it.
I say "up until now" because I've just watched Coriolanus, starring and directed by Ralph Feinnes. Coriolanus is not one of Shakespeare's better known plays and I think it's fair to say that the cinema release was critically well met but didn't exactly capture the public's imagination. Which is a shame because it's a rollicking good film. Transposed to a modern day, Balkans-like setting, Coriolanus' fate is pretty much obvious from the beginning but Shakespeare's genius (which Feinnes communicates extremely well, both as actor and director) is to make us side with and care for him as he makes what we must nowadays call "his journey."
You don't need me to tell you what films to watch but if you're at a loss for something to do and fancy something that'll engage you for a couple of hours, you could do a lot worse that brushing up your Shakespeare...
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
What I think about when I think about running*
Sometimes nothing, if I'm honest, my mind goes blank - closely followed by "when will this be over?" - but for a man who never really liked running before, I'm really getting into it. Of course, since school, where we were forced to do cross-country, my running has been confined to the treadmill which I thought was better, given that I could watch TV at the same time. But since moving to our new apartment and discovering the nearby park, I've also discovered the joys of actual, "proper" running.
The heat and the humidity don't help but I need to do something to try to keep my weight under control and the nearby gym is, to be honest with you, not worth the money. So, running it is. Around the park, dodging the other joggers (even runners move slowly here) exploring the special jogging lanes and routes that the park has installed. It's not the longest of runs - I'm not ready for the HK marathon (yet) - but it's a good couple of kilometres with some significant uphill bits, so it's a decent workout.
The thing I enjoy most about it - aside from the feeling that something this painful must be doing me some good - is simply the fact that I can run. I'm 46 and a half now - I realised a few years ago that I'm not getting any younger - but I can still fit into trousers I bought over 25 years ago (don't ask me why I still have trousers I bought 25 years ago - I don't clear out my wardrobes often, okay?) and I'm still physically able to run. It doesn't cripple me, it doesn't bring on a heart attack or a stroke; I am capable of running. My arms and legs work; I can feel the ache in my muscles because I can feel my muscles.
What I think about when I think about running? How lucky I am to be able to run.
*with apologies to Murakami
The heat and the humidity don't help but I need to do something to try to keep my weight under control and the nearby gym is, to be honest with you, not worth the money. So, running it is. Around the park, dodging the other joggers (even runners move slowly here) exploring the special jogging lanes and routes that the park has installed. It's not the longest of runs - I'm not ready for the HK marathon (yet) - but it's a good couple of kilometres with some significant uphill bits, so it's a decent workout.
The thing I enjoy most about it - aside from the feeling that something this painful must be doing me some good - is simply the fact that I can run. I'm 46 and a half now - I realised a few years ago that I'm not getting any younger - but I can still fit into trousers I bought over 25 years ago (don't ask me why I still have trousers I bought 25 years ago - I don't clear out my wardrobes often, okay?) and I'm still physically able to run. It doesn't cripple me, it doesn't bring on a heart attack or a stroke; I am capable of running. My arms and legs work; I can feel the ache in my muscles because I can feel my muscles.
What I think about when I think about running? How lucky I am to be able to run.
*with apologies to Murakami
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Slow down, you move too fast...
Hong Kong is a global city; it is a hub, a gateway to Asia. The heart of commerce and trade in the area. Built up, highly populated, full of go-getters and businessmen and entrepreneurs all out to make a living. You'd imagine that everyone moved really fast here, right? On their way to get somewhere - the next meeting, the next deal, the next fortune. Bustle, bustle bustle, right?
Wrong. One of the things that's really surprised me is that people here move at a pace that would make glaciers seem in an unseemly hurry. Continental drift moves faster than some of the people on the streets. I was trying to get on the MTR the other morning behind a guy who literally couldn't move any slower because if he did he wouldn't be moving at all. I've got beard-hair that moves at a faster pace than that guy.
Perhaps it's the weather; we've had a run of days with heat in the low thirties and humidity in the eighties - which is a pretty big incentive not to move at all, never mind quickly. Just thinking about moving in that kind of heat makes me break out in a sweat. However, one of the key reasons for the slow pace is that people in Hong Kong (not all of them but enough of a minority to make it difficult for the rest of us) aren't looking where they're going.
Now if you tried to walk down a busy street with your eyes closed, you'd probably think one of two things. You'd either think "hmm... I'd better walk really slowly" or you'd think "this is stupid - I should open my eyes and look where I'm going." Hong Kongers do this a lot but instead of having their eyes closed, they're peering at the tiny screens of phones or tablets - they're playing bubble games or angry birds or watching last night's TV or a music video or they're texting a friend. And in some cases, doing all of those things at the same time: all whilst trying to navigate a crowded street. And instead of doing the sensible* thing ("Look where you're going!" screamed the tall gwailo, in impotent rage) they walk really slowly.
Still, this slow pace does give me a chance to read what's written on their tee-shirts and I've collected another few of my favourites:
I don't know what a watcho is but there's probably one coming soon...
Could you be more grammar, instead?
Why yes, yes it is - especially the way you're using it here
I honestly don't know what to say about that one.
And now ladies and gentlemen, I'm coming the the end of my collection. I'm going to stop posting these tee-shirts here because (a) despite what I say and my honest intentions, I think it probably is a bit patronising and (b) I don't think I'm going to get any better examples than the next two.
So, in reverse order, my favourite tee shirts are:
I like this one because, when you boil all of man's philosophies down, I don't think you can get a better summary than this...
Which means we have a winner. The best one I've seen - well, my favourite, anyway, is...
Remember folks, whatever you do - always keep it Neil.
*ie, the thing I would do.
Wrong. One of the things that's really surprised me is that people here move at a pace that would make glaciers seem in an unseemly hurry. Continental drift moves faster than some of the people on the streets. I was trying to get on the MTR the other morning behind a guy who literally couldn't move any slower because if he did he wouldn't be moving at all. I've got beard-hair that moves at a faster pace than that guy.
Perhaps it's the weather; we've had a run of days with heat in the low thirties and humidity in the eighties - which is a pretty big incentive not to move at all, never mind quickly. Just thinking about moving in that kind of heat makes me break out in a sweat. However, one of the key reasons for the slow pace is that people in Hong Kong (not all of them but enough of a minority to make it difficult for the rest of us) aren't looking where they're going.
Now if you tried to walk down a busy street with your eyes closed, you'd probably think one of two things. You'd either think "hmm... I'd better walk really slowly" or you'd think "this is stupid - I should open my eyes and look where I'm going." Hong Kongers do this a lot but instead of having their eyes closed, they're peering at the tiny screens of phones or tablets - they're playing bubble games or angry birds or watching last night's TV or a music video or they're texting a friend. And in some cases, doing all of those things at the same time: all whilst trying to navigate a crowded street. And instead of doing the sensible* thing ("Look where you're going!" screamed the tall gwailo, in impotent rage) they walk really slowly.
Still, this slow pace does give me a chance to read what's written on their tee-shirts and I've collected another few of my favourites:
- Watchoes around comes around
I don't know what a watcho is but there's probably one coming soon...
- I could be more control but I don't want to be
Could you be more grammar, instead?
- Language is pleasant
Why yes, yes it is - especially the way you're using it here
- Bite me, beat me, kiss me, love me
I honestly don't know what to say about that one.
And now ladies and gentlemen, I'm coming the the end of my collection. I'm going to stop posting these tee-shirts here because (a) despite what I say and my honest intentions, I think it probably is a bit patronising and (b) I don't think I'm going to get any better examples than the next two.
So, in reverse order, my favourite tee shirts are:
I like this one because, when you boil all of man's philosophies down, I don't think you can get a better summary than this...
Which means we have a winner. The best one I've seen - well, my favourite, anyway, is...
*ie, the thing I would do.
Sunday, July 01, 2012
Amazing it ain't
We all know the story, right? Wimpy kid gets bitten by a radioactive spider, develops spider-like powers, dons spandex, decides to fight crime. We all know the story. We all know the story so well that "bitten by a radioactive (insert creature here)" has become shorthand for developing special powers. We all know the story.
We've seen it two films already - plus sequels. We've seen it in innumerable cartoons. We've seen it onstage. We've even seen it in comics, Spidey's original home. We all know the story.
So, given that we all know the story, you'd think that the makers of the latest Spiderman movie would move through that bit at a brisk pace, allowing them to get on with the business of plot and character arc, protagonist and antagonist. You might even think that that as the Sam Raimi/Tobey Maguire Spiderman movie is only a few years old, they'd forgo the whole origin story entirely because hey, as I might have mentioned previously, we all know the story, right?
Wrong. Sadly, the makers of the new Spiderman movie do not think you know the story. They think you don't know it so much you have to be told. The whole thing. In great detail and at great length. In fact, they think this part of the story is so unknown to you, so fresh and new, that they have devoted over an hour of their movie to retelling it. Again. At great length.
Still, they reason to themselves, we have An Important Story to tell. At least, I guess that's what they reason to themselves because the film has more endings than the Lord of the Rings trilogy, each one more portentous than the last, building to a climax that just made we want to stand up and scream "just finish the damn thing, already!"
In between the beginning and the end, the film has about an hour to tell its story. But oh what a story it is! You see, there's this guy who wants to regrow his arm so he injects himself with this lizard serum stuff and his arm regrows because that's what lizards do but then it turns him into a giant lizard, see, and then he goes crazy and tries to turn everyone else into lizards because that's what lizards do too, see, but Spiderman has to stop him because the lizard guy (who doesn't have a cool name and is just a lizard guy rather than, say, Lizardguy) is impervious to bullets because that's what lizards do, too, and so he and Spiderman have a fight and Spiderman wins and then it ends. At great length. As I think I mentioned.
This is a film that is so much less than the sum of its parts. Andrew Garfield is okay as Peter Parker/Spiderman although the great difference in character between the two (PP all tongue-tied and incoherent, Spidey all snappy wisecracks) is never explored or explained. Dennis Leary is subdued as the crusty copper, doing his best to protect his city and his daughter. Martin Sheen is as dependable as ever as Uncle Ben although something odd is happening to his teeth as he gets older. Sally Fields is wasted as Aunt May, although as a character in the comics she never really did much apart from worry and get kidnapped by bad guys. The design and effects are good enough, with Spidey throwing some very Ditko shapes (fun to see) although the CGI is, as it always is, weightless and like a videogame. The story aside, there's nothing really much wrong with it - it's just terribly, painfully, disappointingly, arse-numbingly dull.
There was a brief moment, after Inception, when it looked like Hollywood had realised that summer blockbusters didn't have to be dumb. There was a similarly brief moment, after The Avengers, when it looked like Hollywood realised that being a superhero - and superhero movies in general - could be fun. Sadly, the Amazing Spiderman proves that neither of those lessons has been learned - at least, not by those involved in this movie.
Overall, this is a pointless reboot of a series that didn't need rebooting. You - and the character of Spiderman - deserve better. Avoid.
We've seen it two films already - plus sequels. We've seen it in innumerable cartoons. We've seen it onstage. We've even seen it in comics, Spidey's original home. We all know the story.
So, given that we all know the story, you'd think that the makers of the latest Spiderman movie would move through that bit at a brisk pace, allowing them to get on with the business of plot and character arc, protagonist and antagonist. You might even think that that as the Sam Raimi/Tobey Maguire Spiderman movie is only a few years old, they'd forgo the whole origin story entirely because hey, as I might have mentioned previously, we all know the story, right?
Wrong. Sadly, the makers of the new Spiderman movie do not think you know the story. They think you don't know it so much you have to be told. The whole thing. In great detail and at great length. In fact, they think this part of the story is so unknown to you, so fresh and new, that they have devoted over an hour of their movie to retelling it. Again. At great length.
Still, they reason to themselves, we have An Important Story to tell. At least, I guess that's what they reason to themselves because the film has more endings than the Lord of the Rings trilogy, each one more portentous than the last, building to a climax that just made we want to stand up and scream "just finish the damn thing, already!"
In between the beginning and the end, the film has about an hour to tell its story. But oh what a story it is! You see, there's this guy who wants to regrow his arm so he injects himself with this lizard serum stuff and his arm regrows because that's what lizards do but then it turns him into a giant lizard, see, and then he goes crazy and tries to turn everyone else into lizards because that's what lizards do too, see, but Spiderman has to stop him because the lizard guy (who doesn't have a cool name and is just a lizard guy rather than, say, Lizardguy) is impervious to bullets because that's what lizards do, too, and so he and Spiderman have a fight and Spiderman wins and then it ends. At great length. As I think I mentioned.
This is a film that is so much less than the sum of its parts. Andrew Garfield is okay as Peter Parker/Spiderman although the great difference in character between the two (PP all tongue-tied and incoherent, Spidey all snappy wisecracks) is never explored or explained. Dennis Leary is subdued as the crusty copper, doing his best to protect his city and his daughter. Martin Sheen is as dependable as ever as Uncle Ben although something odd is happening to his teeth as he gets older. Sally Fields is wasted as Aunt May, although as a character in the comics she never really did much apart from worry and get kidnapped by bad guys. The design and effects are good enough, with Spidey throwing some very Ditko shapes (fun to see) although the CGI is, as it always is, weightless and like a videogame. The story aside, there's nothing really much wrong with it - it's just terribly, painfully, disappointingly, arse-numbingly dull.
There was a brief moment, after Inception, when it looked like Hollywood had realised that summer blockbusters didn't have to be dumb. There was a similarly brief moment, after The Avengers, when it looked like Hollywood realised that being a superhero - and superhero movies in general - could be fun. Sadly, the Amazing Spiderman proves that neither of those lessons has been learned - at least, not by those involved in this movie.
Overall, this is a pointless reboot of a series that didn't need rebooting. You - and the character of Spiderman - deserve better. Avoid.
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