#because we’ve got a lot of circumstantial evidence but nothing incredibly definitive

[azurdlywisterious]

Me learning about the fallout show via tumblr and a brief stint over on Reddit

[cheetahsprints]

All good things now come from you

Summary: Wu visits Mako. 

What have I done to fall so hard for you? 

The first time is a total surprise. Mako flops out of bed, kicking away the tangled sheet as he grunts with frustration. Many nights he experiences nightmares, and he reaches for another body. He doesn’t know who he expects to be there or why. But there’s no one there. It’s just him in his lonesome apartment. 

He’s grown tired of Korra and Asami trying to include him in things out of pity. Of course, there’s offers to hang out separately, but in his patheticness he still feels awkward being alone with either of them. He’s also grown tired of Bolin’s attempts to set him up. Nothing seems to click, and he can’t help comparing them to… to… he doesn’t know who, except he does, and it hurts. It’s not Korra or Asami, he’s not quite that bad. Any lingering feelings have turned platonic.

He gets ready for the day, opens the door, and he’s there. Mako abruptly remembers that he doesn’t have work today. Now, he’s not sure whether that’s a positive.

Wu.

Mako intones, “What are you doing here.”

He’s supposed to be on some kind of tour with his… music career. Mako likes many of Wu’s traits that he’d never admit, but his singing leaves a lot to be desired. Nonetheless, something about Wu’s alluring voice attempting to hold a note always makes his heart jump into his throat.

“Is that any way to talk to your old friend?” Wu spreads his arms. Mako is surprised he doesn’t go in for a hug. Perhaps, he’s learned some boundaries.

“Old employer, you mean.”  Mako is semi-aware that he’s trying too hard to distance himself. He tried and tried to drop hints about his feelings, and he’s lost hope that Wu will ever see him that way, that he even could.

“Aw come on, after all we’ve been through?” Wu frowns. “I thought I meant a little more to you.”

Mako raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Did you want something or did you just come by to say hello?”

“I thought we could just… talk. I don’t know. I’m bored.”

So, Mako lets him inside. Wu looks around a bit, then shuffles over by a wall where he stands there staring at Mako. He offers, “Are you going to… sit down?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Um… okay.”

They talk. Hours fly by that Mako scarcely notices at first. He has plenty of input in the beginning, but eventually he lays on the bed. He places his hands behind his head, closes his eyes and just listens to his voice, his unexpected insights. Wu speaks of his travels, with plenty of humorous stories. 

He vanishes as suddenly as he came. Mako must have fallen asleep, because when he opens his eyes Wu is gone with no sign that he was there.

You are my everything… My head, my heart, my mind, my wing

It takes the second time to hear the edge in Wu’s voice, his deliberate leaning on the light-hearted. Whenever the serious side of his stories seems like it will thicken, he changes course.

This time, he has visited Mako at work. Mako has some backed up paperwork to take care of. A few pages in, he’s slacking and trying to play Pai Sho with himself; it’s not going well. He’s not a keen player to begin with, never as interested in it as Bolin. A hand reaches out and moves a piece. Mako looks up, and there’s Wu.

Mako actually hasn’t noticed the station is empty except for him until this moment. 

“Wu… it’s been a few weeks hasn’t it? How are you?”

Wu waves a hand. “Oh you know. Seeing things, meeting people. Did I tell you that time I ran into the swamp chasing that -”

“Right. If you like the swamp so much, maybe you should live there.”

Wu stares at him. His gaze is searching, but Mako is uncertain what he’s looking for. 

“Do you want to play?”

“Oh I’m terrible!”

“Well, I’m so great either…”

Wu reaches up to run his fingers through his own hair. He pauses and drops his hand. “I guess we can be terrible… together…”

There’s a twitch of a smile, and Mako realizes his smiles haven’t reached his eyes, not even the last time he saw him.

The past, the present, tomorrow too... 

The third time, part of Mako is expecting it. He’s at a spa after all, in a steam room. It was Asami’s suggestion, and it was just going to be them hanging out. Then, somehow everyone else got wind of it and showed up. And by everyone, he means: Korra, Bolin, Opal, Wing and Wei, Tu, Jinora, Kai, even Lin. Not every single person he knows fairly well, but it might as well have been. 

He managed to ditch them all at one point. He got a little… overwhelmed when they started talking about Kuvira. He definitely did not start sweating and run out of there like a chickendeer with its head cut off. 

Mako’s eyes snap open when he feels a brief and slightly damp sensation on his forehead. Wu grins at him, but his eyes are unfocused. It’s unsettling.

“Did you just… kiss me?”

“Haha sure… oh buddy, the heat must be getting to ya.”

Mako glares at him. He knows what he felt, and there’s no other explanation. He decides not to press the issue. Then, his eyes wander to Wu’s bare torso and his throat tightens. Wu lowers himself to sit beside him. It’s close but not so close as to be brushing against each other. Mako squints. It seems deliberate. Does Wu know about his feelings? Is he grossed out or just trying to spare him the rejection? Mako’s head gets kind of spinny.

This time is mostly silent. Mako - to his own surprise - is the one who tries to start conversation. Wu seems lost in thought though, and his responses are too monosyllabic to work into more. Occasionally, Wu catches Mako’s eye when Mako glances at him. Every time, Mako looks down at his own lap, cheeks heated and not from the steam. 

I’ll spend my final day with you

The fourth time, Mako is so shocked it angers him.

It’s a bust gone wrong. He’s tied up, definitely not expecting any visitors. That sonorous voice calls to him, “Heyy Mako. Looks like you’re all tied up, am I interrupting?”

Mako’s face aches where he was punched, one of his eyes is swollen shut, and he’s pretty sure a few ribs are cracked, if not broken. Somehow, he manages to glare at Wu. Then, he panics.

“What are you doing here?!”  Mako squirms, but it’s no good. “Get out of here!”

“Nah, I’m good. Can’t stay long though, but I got you a present.” Wu tosses him a knife. There are jewels in the hilt. “Nothing extravagant, but I think you can take it from here? The guard was asleep… they hired a kid, poor thing. He looks to be about… twelve? Maybe you should I dunno, adopt him or something.”

Mako stares at the knife. This has to be one messed up dream resulting from head trauma. “I - I feel too young to be a… a dad to a pre-teen and… I don’t think I’d make a good one.”

“Nonsense! You have just the kind of experience to relate to the kid. Big brother then?”

Because that went so well with Kai, though that was more Bolin’s mission than his. “He’d probably just see me as condescending.”

Wu shrugs. “Well, see you later Mako. I - I hope I can see you again soon.”

He walks out. Not long after, Mako escapes by managing to cut the ropes with his limited range of movement. It helps that the obviously expensive dagger, though probably meant to be decorative, is incredibly sharp. He hoists the kid over his shoulder kicking and screaming, then leaves it up to Lin to sort out. He has too many of his own issues. 

Later, when he’s giving his statement, he’s at a loss explaining his escape. 

He decides to loosely suggest that the kid helped him out. He’s adopted to a nice family within the week, and Mako sends him an encouraging letter with Bolin’s assistance with the wording. He doesn’t tell a single soul about seeing Wu.

I hope you feel the way I do, I hope you give yourself up too

The fifth time, he gets the immediate sense something is very wrong, and he’s been blind this whole time. He’s walking through the spirit wilds of Republic City, just to clear his head. Wu stumbles out from a tangle of vines. He’s disheveled, a complete wreck. His eyes are wild.

“Mako… Mako…”

“Wu?” For the first time, Mako reaches out to him as though to cradle him.

His hands pass right through him. Mako gasps, his eyes widening. “What - how -”

Wu gives him a pleading look and whispers, “You have to save me Mako… please… if I mean even a quarter to you what you - what you mean to me.”

“Save you…? What do you mean? From what? Are you projecting your spirit or something? Since when can you -”

Wu puts his hand up. “Enough questions. I’ve officially run out of time, Mako. I - I love -”

Then, he fades, just as Mako chokes, “You -”

 Mako can’t breathe. He sprints to the station and barges in on Lin.

“Mako? What do you think you’re -”

Mako slams his palms flat on the desk. “It’s Wu!”

Minutes feel like hours. Korra isn’t able to sense him, claiming to Mako’s horror that it means his life force is weak. Eventually, they’ve gathered everyone who has remotely associated with Wu in the last few months. His location is tracked to somewhere in the swamp… which ended up being the result of Mako’s gut feeling based on circumstantial evidence.

The evidence being that Wu somehow brought up the swamp in every conversation. Something that he only vaguely recollects after thinking about it really hard. 

Mako finds him first, of course. He’s laying in a muddy ditch, as disheveled as when his spirit most recently appeared. There are scrapes on every inch of skin he can see, and an especially deep wound somewhere in the abdomen. He’s wrapped in glowing vines that may or may not be keeping him on the cusp of life. The blood is difficult to see amongst the mud and vines, but Mako can smell it. He rushes to Wu and kneels down. He gently scoops him up, even though he knows he shouldn’t move him.

It’s probably too late. The vines retreat.

“Wu, please. Please don’t leave me. You were wrong okay? I care about you so, so much.” Mako finally releases his stranglehold on his deepest emotions, and the tears flow. “You need to pull through this, you need to fight so I can - so I can - tell you that I-”

He can’t say the words, not like this, not when he can’t even hear them.

Soon, the others appear. Korra and Kya quickly rush to his side and take over. He stays close. His vision blurring. Someone pulls him away, rambling something. Someone else puts a blanket around his shoulders. Someone says, “It’ll be alright.”

Mako can see the doubt in their eyes.

Mako and Wu are carted in different directions. It feels wrong, to be pulled away from him. However, he doesn’t think he can take it if the worst scenario is true. 

How could he miss it? 

Mako is numb and quiet as hours or maybe days pass. It’s discovered that Wu met someone claiming to be a scouting agent. Apparently, he had worked with Varrick and Bolin at one point, and that was all that was needed for Wu to trust him.

Mako should’ve never left his side.

It went very south. Wu was innocent in everything, but of course he somehow ended up in the crossfire of a scandal involving spirit vines, former Kuvira followers, and big, big debts. He was nothing but a puppet for some fiend to hide behind.

“I’m in love with him,” Mako says out loud, just so the universe at least can hear it. Of course, he’s overhead by several people. He distantly registers he’s in the air temple. He doesn’t know when that happened. 

“...You’re kidding,” Bolin remarks, staring. 

“You didn’t know?”

“Dude… I thought you were straight. Everyone knew Wu was into you, but we thought it was an epically tragic case of unreciprocated affection!”

“There’s nothing epic about that,” Mako grumpily mutters. He’d thought himself in that position once, and Bolin is making it sound like fun mover material.

When he explains how he guessed Wu’s location, Lin of all people says, “He was about as obvious as you were with how you felt. That is, too subtle… by the spirits, how could you two be such idiots?”

“I know right? They’re made for each other,”  Asami says. 

And…

Oh.

“He didn’t know.”

“Probably not, Mako.”

Mako slaps his forehead. “I’m such a moron.”

No one responds to that, but they don’t refute it either. He doesn’t blame them.

I’m damned to feel the way I do

Mako is going to visit Wu. It feels strange the other way around. He carefully crosses the threshold, flowers clutched in his hand. It feels weird, but it also didn’t feel right not to bring anything. This is it, after all; an end and a beginning.

“When I saw you, hurt and lifeless… there are just so many things I wish I had said,” Mako murmurs. “Despite the time I’ve had to think about, I still don’t know what words to choose. I couldn’t even say it to your face, but this is catharsis, I suppose.”

He goes on, “I’m sure you know, when we first met I thought you were one of the most obnoxious people on the planet. Okay, maybe you didn’t know - or if you did, you hid it well. Somewhere along the line I started to see… what a truly amazing and strong person you are.”

“You really impressed me with how you had grown,” Mako continues. His chest aches. He’s not sure what he’s doing. He takes a few steps closer and drops to his knees. “I can’t imagine a world without you in it. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell you goodbye. Every stupid little thing you would do became so endearing, it made me so - so stupid. A stupid fool in l-”

He still can’t get the word out, not when addressing Wu without him being there. Silence falls as Mako loses the strength to talk. He wipes at his dampened cheek feebly with his sleeve. 

“What happened to my big tough guy? Not that there’s an -” A pause and a weak cough. “Anything wrong with being touchy-feely. Good for you.”

Mako drops the flowers, and he rushes so fast to stand that his knee rams into the metal bed frame. He winces, then he looks at Wu, and his minor pain evaporates. Wu’s eyes are half-lidded, his knuckles pale where he’s clutching the sheet. He’s clearly struggling to stay awake. However, he gives Mako a lopsided smile, his beautiful eyes twinkling. 

“It’s a  good thing you don’t have to, huh? Be in a world without me that is,” Wu mutters.

Mako reaches to brush his hair to the side. 

“Sure scared me though. You should rest.”

“I’m just excited you’ve come to see me,” Wu admits. “Stay with me?”

Without hesitation, Mako squeezes himself onto the cot. “Of course. I’m here. I love you.”

Wu grins wide enough that it doesn’t really look comfortable. “Mako I -”

Wu breaks away to cough again. “I love you too, big guy.”

“I wonder, do you remember visiting me?” Mako murmurs, “Do you remember coming to me when you were unconscious? How did you do that?”

“Whaaat? I’m not exactly Mr. Spiritual Guru. How would I do that?” Wu adds, “Also, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Huh. Maybe I had cracked and hallucinated it.”

“Or, or, your spirit was the one reaching out and pulling me to you! Because we’re deeply connected.”

“Pfft. It was probably the spirit vines.”

“Yeah... probably.”

Wu cracks a yawn, and his eyelids droop. Mako kisses him on the forehead. His lip has a bad split, so this will do. Wu snuggles into him, and Mako knows the meaning of true peace.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

“Are the MCU Spidey films good Spider-Man movies?”

If you mean are they good adaptations, as in good stories respecting the spirit of the character, the kind of stories that you could easily imagine happening in the comics themselves and are in line with the core values and concepts from those comics...then no absolutely not.

 “Spider-Man was established as a secondary character in someone else’s story before we followed him on any adventures of his own”

And that’s fine if not for the fact that he remained subservient to that other character’s story. He was deliberately constructed in Homecoming and Far From Home to revolve around his relationship with Tony both to provide further development for Tony and fuel for his later arc in IW and Endgame but also to provide and epilogue and lasting legacy for him.

 Even if Peter was the lead in his solo films he still existed within the shadow of Tony, he was still effectively to Tony what Robin was to Batman. Batman fundamentally contextualizes Robin to such a degree that everything Robin does, even subtextually, either stems from or comments upon Batman.

 Even his transition into Nightwing, into being his own man and leader of the Titans did this because that was understood as him BREAKING AWAY from Batman’s shadow. But on a metatextual level he never truly can. A similar thing happened with Peter in FFH. Even if Tony was dead his legacy hung over FFH and Peter, his legacy conextualized part of the intended arc for his character in that film (as poorly handled as it was regardless).

 And this...is what is unacceptable about MCU Spider-Man in terms of being an adaptation. It’s not simply that existing in Iron Man’s shadow or being contextualized by him wasn’t a factor for his character (thought that’d be justification enough to call out). It’s that Spider-Man was so particularly DESIGEND by Lee and Ditko to NOT be like that at all to NOT live in the shadow of another hero but be independent and more importantly for the driving force behind everything he does as a hero to be the death of his father which he was indirectly responsible for.

 “The spider bite and death of Uncle Ben is stuff that’s in the past and has happened”

 Has it though?

 There is no evidence of that in the film, not even circumstantial.

 I’m all for not showing it for a third time but neither Peter nor May act like they’ve recently lost a loved one or are grieving at all. We’ve seen Peter more affected by the death of Iron man than of Uncle Ben.

 The only reason anyone can even float the idea that Spider-Man’s origin happened at all is that we all simply know that origin. But you still need to acknowledge in some way it happened which the MCu has absolutely never done. As far as the MCU is concerned the closest thing we have to even acknowledging Uncle Ben existed in the first place is a suitcase with presumably his initials on it.

 But for all we know Peter fished that out of a dumpster. For all we know Uncle Ben might never have existed, May might be his biological aunt and Ben her deadbeat husband who ran off with someone else.

 Simply saying referring to all May has been through recently isn’t enough because it implies she’s been through  something serious recently, but that could be anything not necessarily a bereavement. More poignantly it doesn’t imply PETER has been through anything when that’s way more important because being sad about Ben’s death is the book of Genesis for Spider-Man. You NEED to have that pain, that grief in there somewhere.

 Him saying giving the great responsibility speech isn’t enough because the film never clearly conveys that he learned this lesson from someone close to him dying. It’s just something he takes very seriously (in Civil War but apparently not much in Far From Home!) and for all we know always has.

 Peter’s dialogue in Civil War DOES NOT imply Peter learnt this lesson from something that WAS his fault. It COULD mean that, but in context it COULD just be something he learned third hand.

 More importantly even if we were to say the dialogue DOES spell out his origin that’s not really the point. Because Ben’s presence in the film still needs to be acknowledged. A picture, his name being uttered, a gravestone, a long look at an empty chair at the breakfast table something. But there is absolutely NOTHING besides a suitcase. And more egregiously what he represents has been wholly supplanted by Tony.

 “Peter likes tech. Tony likes tech. Tony would naturally be a huge inspiration going forward”

Not really. Just because you love basketball doesn’t mean Michael Jordan is definitely going to be your inspiration. In the comics Reed Richards wasn’t Spider-Man’s idol or anything. And his desire to impress him in the comics at best didn’t manifest itself the way he wanted to suck up to Tony in the MCU.

 And again, this misses the point. There are LOTS of things that would technically be organic in the MCU but it’s about finding a balance between something organic that is also respectful of the core concept and spirit of the characters. Case in point. Having T’Challa’s origin tied into Civil War is very organic and different from the comics but it doesn’t disrespect the spirit of his character because his Dad still dies and passes on the mantle of King and Black Panther to him and still provides fuel for him to live up to his father’s memory.

 It’d totally organic Black Widow to be a former HYDRA operative based upon the established world building of the MCU, have the Black Widow program be something set up by the Red Skull even. It’d even make sense given the colour coding involved. But it’d be disrespectful to the spirit of Black Widow’s character as a RUSSIAN convert.

 “If he wants to live up to Ben he’d want to be the best superhero he could possibly be”

Sure...but that doesn’t mean becoming an Avenger. Again, comic book Spider-Man never regarded being a big name hero as neccesarry for being a good hero or the best he could be. That’s an elitist way of looking at it.

 In particular it omits the good he does for the little guy which is his driving motivation. He doesn’t do this to save the world he does this to save individual people. His ‘original sin’ as it were stemmed from an incredibly small scale individual crime.

 So accepting Tony’s help when he wants to make him the next Avenger wouldn’t be in line with the SPIRIT of the character.

 We could argue that logically this could happen and therefore it MUST happen but at the end of the day it was just that the writers WANTED Peter to be a fanboy and nothing more than that. They didn’t HAVE to write him that way. They could’ve had him have doubts about Tony, have his idealized visage of Tony crack as he grew to learn about the real man.

 And if we’re going to use the argument that this HAS to happen and we have no choice to write it that way because logic dictates it then...why haven’t the MCu heroes resolved any number of things logically they absolutely could. Tony can’t fix global warming? Wakanda can’t? Or to switch over to DC Superman can’t end how many disasters or problems in the world?

 At the end of the day logic exists within superhero stories but it is always tempered by the genre conventions and spirit of the characters.

 I know this channel loves Doctor Who, who is arguably a kind of superhero anyway, so I will draw upon an example from Dr. Who. I forget who it was, possibly Russel T. Davies, but in a commentary track for an episode of Doctor Who in 2008-2009 someone said something very smart regarding a fundamental of the lore. They said that really the Doctor could fix the chameleon circuit of his TARDIS so it need not always look like a police box...but that it was ‘right’ that he didn’t. In other words logically the Doctor COULD do something and indeed it would be very beneficial but it’d go against the spirit of his character, the show and the internal mechanics of the series for them to do that.

 The same applies here. If you have a Spider-Man who’s got a rich high tech superhero sugar daddy you have broken Spider-Man, he doesn’t work properly creatively speaking.

 “A large part of Peter’s story in Homecomign is being told when to stay out of it”

 Again this goes against the spirit of the character because hello...his whole origin is about that one time he did stay out of it and it broke his family.

 For a Spider-Man story to basically repeatedly enforce the message that Spider-Man NOT acting and Spider-Man being passive is the right thing to do is to do a story which misunderstands the character fundamentally.

 It gets worse when you consider his actions actively make things worse 90% of the time in that film and the message is muddled anyway as Iron Man was only in a position to stop Vulture because Spider-Man wasn’t passive.

 “There are some things Peter isn’t qualified to take on”

Low rent thugs with high tech weapons is something he isn’t qualified for?

 How many versions of early days Spider-Man dealt with that and worse entirely competently?

 “Throughout all of this like a father figure Tony Stark is looking out for Peter”

First of all no he’s really not, he’s absent a lot of the time.

Second of all the mere FACT that Tony Stark is Peter’s father figure at all is part and parcel of WHY these are bad Spider-Man movies.

Tony Stark being Spider-Man’s father figure is as broken as a Dick Grayson origin movie where Batman ISN’T his father figure or indeed wholly absent. You are severely MISSING THE POINT if you do that.

“If Uncle Ben were important then when Tony took away his suit he’d leave it to other people instead of getting involved himself”

That logic doesn’t follow.

To begin with the entire movie repeatedly made it clear Peter was willing to disobey Tony and get involved so him continuing to do so is consistent, it doesn’t have anything to do with Uncle Ben’s importance or lack thereof.

Secondly as stated above this is all built upon the PRESUMPTION Ben existed and Spider-Man’s origin played out in a similar way it always does but there is 0% in-movie evidence for this happening. We simply know Peter lives by a philosophy the same as the philosophy he had in other movies but we don’t know in this universe how he came to believe in that philosophy.

He certainly doesn’t seem like it was through the loss of a loved one because he doesn’t mention, reference or think about Ben in the slightest and doesn’t act as anyone who’s lost someone they loved a lot very recently, certainly not other versions of Spider-Man who went through that.

“The red and blue home made suit represents a spider-Man who does what he does not because Tony Stark got involved”

But again there is no evidence in the movies that he does what he does because of Uncle Ben because Uncle Ben isn’t even implied in-story.

More importantly this isn’t the main critique of the MCU Spider-Man. the main critique is that Tony is incredibly important and defining to this version of Peter even if he was active before Tony showed up. The entire arc of Homecoming rests upon the motivation of Peter wanting to be an Avenger.

That’s not even my interpretation either, Tom Holland SAID that himself. The villain is an evil Tony Stark who became villain because of Tony Stark and who’s goal is Tony’s stuff. Peter’s self-actualization as a character happened when he was spurred on by Tony Stark.

Tony is BAKED IN to the foundations of this version of Spider-Man in a way that’s vitally more important than Uncle Ben because everything revolves around Tony. And again it SHOULDN’T, it shouldn’t anymore than Robin should NOT revolve around his relationship with Batman.

“That isn’t Peter saying he wants to be the next Iron Man”

Not in Homecoming perhaps but that’s clearly the direction the film Pushes Peter in in FFH.

“Just because Uncle Ben existed doesn’t mean Tony will fall on deaf ears”

Again not the point, the point is Tony is more present and impactful than Ben.

Put it like this. Aunt May clearly EXISTS in the MCU...but based upon the character arc and defining features of MCU Peter is she really as if not more important than Tony?

No she’s not, you could tweak the movies to exorcise her and they wouldn’t be that different.

“It’s a representation of this kid fighting for his uncle...it represents even before he met Tony he would’ve battled a villain who is concerned with Tony Stark“

Again...the uncle that the movies do not confirm even existed.

Again...the mere FACT that Tony is so integral to the fabric of so much stuff in this version of Spider-Man like Mysterio is against the concept and spirit of Spider-Man.

And even if we ignore all of that...Spider-man only beats Mysterio when he uses Tony’s tech to build a costume like Tony did set to Tony’s soundtrack so like...is the film actually affirming Tony’s presence is irrelvent to his heroic journey?

“Do you really think the hooded suit was put in for the sake of fanservice?”

I mean...it’s far from impossible we got like 5 different number plates that acted as fanservice. Chris Evans appeared in Thor: the Dark World for fanservice. The fact we got a giant Mysterio hand was nothing but fanservice.

“That hooded Spider-man IS Uncle Ben”

...then why....isn’t...he...mentioned!

It’s for a similar reason Aunt May is nothing more than Iron Man’s friend’s new girlfriend.

“You don’t keep everything associated with someone when they die”

This is a case of writing the movie for Marvel at this point.

Yes hypothetically it’s possible that there are other possessions associated with Uncle Ben which mean more to Peter than his suitcase.

But what are they?

Do they even exist?

We don’t know because again the suitcase is the closest thing we have to proof that Uncle Ben even EXISTED in these movies.

“The Stark suit was in the suitcase that got destroyed”

How does this disprove that Tony was more important than Ben?

Because Peter was at least sad about Tony’s death and there is no confirmation Peter was sad about Ben’s death nor even that Ben existed.

“This doesn’t show a good understanding of grief”

This whole movie didn’t show a good understanding of grief!

Peter is more concerned about hooking up with MJ than grieving Tony. It’s not denial or running away it’s inconsistent writing and characterization.

“Peter wanting a holiday is believable”

Sure...but like was Tony even that close to Peter?

They shared exactly six scenes together in person.

“People expect Spider-Man to act in the movies the way he does in that meme”

Half the critics of FFH aren’t saying that and the other half...are kinda right. In character Spider-Man is wracked with pain over remembering Ben. Not because his Dad simply died or even died when he was young but that he died violently and it was HIS FAULT!

“The subject of grief is present in the MCu version of Spider-Man”

Yes...but not over Uncle Ben, over Tony.

“Both with Tony and Ben”

What scene ever clearly shows us Peter grieving Ben’s death. Because the bedroom scene in Civil War doesn’t do that, we the audience project onto that scene that he is probably talking about Ben and he’s probably sad about it but there is no evidence in the movie even implying that to be the case.

The PS4 game at least had a picture.

“It’s handled in a very, very, very subtle way”

No it’s handled in a way that omits and covers him up in order to build up Tony and avoid repetition from the older movies.

It’s not subtle because the MCU by and large is not subtle and that includes Civil War. Tony and Pepper’s break up isn’t even all that subtle in the movie.

This isn’t written to be subtle it’s written to be plausible deniability.

“Just because Ben started Spider-Man and is the essence of him doesn’t mean other people aren’t going to have some kind of influence on him”

Sure...but it should never have been Tony stark.

Because Peter Parker shouldn’t be fanboying over anyone, it goes against his core concept.

“It’s unfair to project one interpretation of grief on every Spider-Man”

Sure. Peter and Miles and Mayday and Gwen and Cindy and Anya won’t all react to grief in the same way.

But if you are doing a version of PETER PARKER and you are having him react to grief in a way that is not broadly consistent with PETER PARKER then you are not doing your job.

He’s supposed to be in spirit a version of Peter Parker and a version of Peter Parker would not react to grief by never even mentioning or thinking about Uncle Ben.

“This was never an origin story for Spider-Man”

Nor was Spider-Man 2 and yet you know...Uncle Ben and the grief over his death was till present in that.

“You can cite the Raimi movies and bring it over to the new lore”

...that...that isn’t how any of this works. The Raimi films aren’t canon to the MCU unless the MCU acknowledges them as such.

“It may be a different Peter Parker but the story is still the same”

If the story is still the same then where are Harry, Mary Jane and Norman Osborn?

Why is Spider-Man not living in the suburbs?

Why is Peer 15 instead of 18?

Even if you take that statement to mean the GIST of the story is the same it creates problems because why would Peter ever say “I’m nothing without this suit Tony” in HC when he knows he definitely isn’t because he knows he can make a difference with or without the suit because of Ben’s death proving that point.

It’s not canon to the MCU unless there is EVIDENCE proving that to be the case.

As of right now Ben might not even exist in the MCU.

More importantly the FACT THAT HE’S NOT MENTIONED is you doing Spider-Man wrong full stop.

[goldbergjonblog]

Mr. Smiley In The Hut With A Rope

Here are the facts:

1. I'm in a hut.

2. I'm lying on a mat laid across a dirt floor.

3. I'm completely naked.

4. I am oiled from head to toe.

5. There's a barefoot man in a loincloth standing above me, smiling.

6. This is not a story about when I was kidnapped.

7. I've agreed to this, and paid for it, willingly.

8. I'm staring at a rope hanging above me from the ceiling.

9. I'm laughing uncontrollably.

10. I'm in India.

Was it a crime? Not really. Did I feel violated? Completely.

We've all had those "how did I get here" moments. Where you skip gigantic amounts of circumstantial evidence and proof that made it very obvious how you got there. Like agreeing to go to India with your friends. Like actually purchasing tickets for planes, trains and boats to, and in, India. So based on those facts I had a pretty good idea that at some point I would be in India. But you still stand there, or in this case lie there, balls out, and you ask yourself "what the hell am I doing here"? It's like when you're on a roller coaster and it's climbing to its highest point. Tick, tick, tick, tick.... And you reach that pause when you look down at the drop and say to yourself - why? I could've just stayed down there and had another corn dog. This is like that - times ten. Because you never actually drop. You're just always hanging there asking why.

When you get the chance to go to India you go. You don't question it, you just go. When will that opportunity ever come up again? I'm not taking my kids to India any time soon. There are a thousand places that would come first. So I ended up going to India. I was in my “barely working” days at the time, so I wasn't a necessity in my office. They could find someone else to pick up and deliver the footage for a Stephen King miniseries. Stephen King wasn't asked if it was okay that I go to India.

Producer - "Umm Stephen, we've got an issue. The Goldberg kid is going to India for about ten days. Some kind of self discovery bullshit.”

Stephen King - (long pause and an even longer sigh) "So tell me...who's going to pick up the film and deliver it across town to Manhattan Transfer? This is why my work doesn't translate to the screen."

That conversation didn't happen.

A group of my friends had an annual tradition of picking an exotic locale to go to for a couple of weeks over the holidays. Previous trips included South Africa, Thailand and Australia. This is back when few of us were married or even seriously attached so we could just leave for two weeks without too much fanfare. This particular year they mentioned it to me and said they were going to India. Surprisingly, to me and them, I said I was in. Because I had some kind of prescience, at a time in my life when prescience was low, I realized this was probably my one and only chance to go to India. We had the added benefit of a close friend who was living there with his wife. He was going to show us around the country as a tour guide, but a tour guide that I could say "that sounds horrible" to. I have been called a curmudgeon before (and since), and if you ask the others who had the worst time on this trip, there's no question that the unanimous answer would be "Jon," "Goldberg," "definitely Jon," "he was miserable the whole time." The truth is this was a very complex trip. I was miserable for much of it but I was also in amazement at the things I saw, touched and tasted. I'm sure it's been said before but I’ll say it again, India is a place of extremes. The Taj Mahal is one of the most incredible sights to behold and the poverty throughout the country is the most gut wrenching imaginable. After I got back to New York, when I saw the homeless I almost scoffed at them. I wanted to say, "I've seen the pros and you, sir, are lucky. Come talk to me when you're seven years-old, have a club foot and are wearing nothing but underpants."

The food in India could be unbelievable and inedible during the same meal. On one leg of the trip we took a boat overnight down a river. There was a three-man crew and they made us a dinner of chicken and some coconut sauce on a banana leaf. After my first bite I thought it was one of the best things I had ever eaten. I could taste all of these spices and flavors that I've never had before. It was rich, sweet and salty. But about halfway through the meal I thought, and said out loud,  "This is disgusting. It's too rich, too sweet and too salty. I can't have another bite.” About twenty minutes later as I was throwing up off of the side of the boat I heard, in between violent wretches, laughing. Was I hallucinating? It was the crew who were just on the other side of the thatched separation. Glad I could entertain. To this day, that sauce, spice or flavor (it’s like a smoky coconut type thing) has joined peppermint schnapps on my no fly list.

As the trip progressed, we headed farther and farther south, I was being stripped of many things including my clothes and, at times, my dignity. But there was also a freedom, a welcomed lack of complete control and understanding, which eventually led to my willingness to be completely naked and staring at a rope.

Halfway through the trip we stopped in the port town of Cochin. As we walked toward the small village we saw a handwritten wooden sign that said - Jewtown. We all jumped at that and thought it can't be what we think it is but we have to investigate. We climbed on a rundown ferry across a canal to a small town, which apparently contained Jewtown. We got off the ferry and followed the signs through windy streets until a narrow alley ended at the front door of a tiny synagogue. We walked into the synagogue and there was one man in his seventies there. He looked Indian and, through some back and forth gesturing, he let us know that he was Jewish and that there were a few Jews still around. I guess if I were squinting he could look like one of my grandparents’ “Florida friends.” He showed us inside the synagogue, which had a few benches, a Torah and some artifacts. Eventually we started to leave but he stopped us and asked if we were coming back for services that night. We said that we weren't planning on it but then he held up four fingers on his hand. Was it the time the services started? No. Was it a date? No. He then pointed to himself, then he pointed to us and held up both hands, fingers splayed out - ten. Someone called out "a minyan", 10 is a minyan. The number needed to have a legit ceremony. He wanted us to come back because they haven't had a true minyan in years and it would mean a lot. Being that there were four Jews he could round up and six of us were bar mitzvah boys we really could help him out. We agreed to come back that night. The rest of the group stayed in the area and I said I'd meet the minyan back at the synagogue that evening, as I wanted to go back to the hotel. I walked to the ferry on my own, and we're not talking double decker ferry, it's more like a tug boat with a roof, flat bottomed and crowded, sinking very low in the water. I felt this odd adrenaline rush. As I got on the boat and sat down, I looked up and realized that everyone was looking at me. It was like I had some food on the side of my mouth and everyone on the boat wanted to tell me but they didn’t know me well enough so they kept staring. I wasn't just a minority, I was an oddity. I now had some concept of what it felt like to completely stand out in a crowd and it was extremely powerful and almost overwhelming. I was being studied. The rush came from the feeling of isolation, compounded by the animal in a zoo focus on me. As I got off the boat and saw the rest of the minyan, there was so much relief. Just that experience on the boat was enough to justify the trip. I don't think I will ever have that feeling again.

The ferry experience did something to me. It changed my approach for the rest of the trip and I began to stop questioning everything. I began going with the flow a bit more. Relaxing on the beach without questioning the fact that there were cows lying a few feet away. I was actually open, enjoying myself (not to mention the thinnest I’ve ever been). Which is why a few days later when Alan suggested an Ayurvedic massage as one of our activities, my response was, "That sounds horrible but okay." At this point we were at a “spa” at the very southern tip of India, staying in wooden huts deep in a forest overlooking a beach where fishermen threw huge nets out into the water and dragged them back in, gathering up the flopping silver bounty. I think the group was a bit shocked that I was game. If this were the beginning of the trip, there's no way I would’ve agreed to a massage of any kind. But after having gone through multiple bouts of digestion issues, including hallucinatory diarrhea in a hotel room where I almost cried out of joy because a comforting NBA game was being shown live at four AM, having to tote around my own toilet paper as you never know when it would hit, and a transcendent moment of isolation, I was up for anything. I'm not a big massage guy. I've had them and I've liked them. I'm just not that into them. But Alan said, “This is not like any other massage. They use their feet."

I bit. ”How do they use their feet?”

"It's hard to describe but it's amazing."

"Why not?" Which was my other response besides "that sounds horrible". "Why not" was my general feeling about the whole trip and I got many answers to that question during the massage.

Four of us agreed to get this unique experience. Again, I was just going with the when-will-I-ever-get-this-chance-again instincts. But that guy is sometimes confronted by the how-did-I-get-here guy and they end up not really communicating very well. Many times it ends up in a big fight in my stomach where there is no winner, just lots and lots of losing. The time for the massage had come and the four of us were escorted down a path in the forest to two separate huts with two doors on each. Steve and Andy went in one hut and Matt and I went in another. Matt walked through the other door in our hut and disappeared. I soon learned that the attractive female escort was not the masseuse. The smiling tan man wearing the loincloth waiting for me in the hut was. He pointed to a chair opposite me. I sat down and quickly did some reconnaissance. The layout wasn’t too informative. The massage table and oils next to it screamed massage, which was familiar and somewhat a relief. It smelled right. Coconut and I'm guessing something like hibiscus. But the big cauldron of oil seemed a bit off, more Macbeth or Bugs Bunny in the jungle than Ritz Carlton. And then I stopped, frozen by the thing that was truly out of place. This was what Alan meant by "it's hard to explain." The thing he didn’t mention as to not “ruin it” for us. On the dirt floor, next to the cauldron, was a big mat. And right above the middle of the mat, hanging from the thatched roof like a giant question mark, was a thick rope that you'd see in gym class scenes from The Wonder Years. Until I learned what that rope was for it was always in my peripheral vision, as if at some point it was going to jump at me and I wanted to be ready. I was mesmerized by that rope. My masseur, still smiling, gestured for me to take my clothes off. I stripped down to my underwear and had that big decision to make, the same one you have in doctor's offices or locker rooms. Do I or don't I. I looked at him for a cue and he just nodded and smiled. Was he doing the yes nod or the no nod? Maybe you are aware of this, but in case you aren’t, the difference between someone gesturing yes and gesturing no in India is the slightest bobble on the yes and the slightest head turn on the no. So for a no it's a fairly typical motion - your chin basically moving from your left collarbone to your right collarbone - and the yes gesture is more your left ear almost touching your left collarbone and your right ear touching your right collarbone and doing it rapidly. It sounds completely different but when done quickly it's almost impossible to decipher a difference. And just to add to the confusion a full on head bobble like a bobble head means maybe. When we arrived at the Mumbai airport we were stymied by a security guard for about 2 minutes, asking him if the way to baggage claim was to the right. He did the bobble. Some of us thought he said no and some thought yes. We asked again, same thing. It was an Abbott and Costello routine if there were one Abbott and eight Costellos.

As I stared at the masseuse he added a slight hand gesture, both hands, palms up at a slight angle directed towards my underwear. He did the slight bobble again and smiled. It was a clear yes. I could hear Matt in the room next door going through the same non-verbal motions. The room next door was just a curtain, so you could hear the same odd silences and shuffling on Matt's side. In a very helpless voice I eeked out "Matt....are you-" and he cut me off, "yes Jon...and this is a solitary experience". A nice way of saying "fuck off, I'm naked too, just go with it." I was on my own. And I went with it. Once again, anywhere else in the world and I was gone but hey when will I get a chance to be naked in an Indian hut standing in front of a strange smiling man in a diaper again? The answer was definitely never. No bobble. This was an ear to ear violent shake of my head. No!

Down came the briefs. It was freeing. I instinctually moved toward the table but my man waggled his finger and pointed to the mat, the mat next to the cauldron, the mat next to the cauldron under the rope. Really? We're going right to the mat? No massage foreplay? You know a little shoulder rub to get to know me? Nope, this was right to the "good" stuff. My masseuse/violator was still nodding and gesturing for me to drop down to the mat. As I lay on the mat, chin to chest to follow his every move while keeping an eye on that rope just above me, he walked over to the cauldron and spooned some hot oil into a ladle. He made a move for me and began to pour the oil on my chest and stomach. As it hit my body and I felt the burning of the oil on my skin I remembered one of my greatest epiphanies. I was in my late teens, flying back from college and it was a horrible flight, bumpy, lots of up and down, just miserable. And I'm not a great flyer as it is but as I left the plane I saw the pilot and co-pilot. They were both a bit shaken, not confident. That's when it hit me. They may be pilots but they're humans first. Humans with emotions, drinking problems, sleep disorders and depression. They were flawed. I have never flown with any kind of confidence since. Just purely playing a numbers game. As the hot oil began to flow on to me, I was initially confident that they would never make it too hot as to burn me, but then I recalled my pilot epiphany, which later spread to doctors, teachers, bosses, chefs and now...half naked Indian masseuses. So when the oil confirmed my mistrust and burned like hell I just shook my head in disbelief. I stayed calm and the oil cooled down, not reaching second-degree burn status, and it was quite soothing. But I’d put myself down as someone who likes his massage oil on the tepid sign.

Now that my front side was fully oiled, my guy took hold of the rope, and it happened so fast I couldn't prepare. There was no movie moment where he looked at the rope and I looked at the rope and in slow motion he grabbed it and I yelled out "noooooo." I immediately got the one answer I had been looking for since Alan first brought up the idea. In one quick move of grace, athleticism and sadism, he pulled on the rope, floated for an instant and was up on my belly with one foot, using the rope for stability. Almost as if the rope were a hand he used to pull himself up onto a boat. He started gliding on me with one foot, pushing off of the other like he was going uphill on a skateboard, my body being the hill. He was swinging all around and really not paying any mind to any of my more sensitive parts, which I assumed Mr. Tarzan here possessed under his loincloth. I wanted to say "Why would you do that to another guy?" But instead I held back, eventually releasing my anxiety and tension through pure guttural, uncontrollable laughter. I just started thinking of the scenario and I couldn't stop. He then looks down at me and he starts laughing. We were actually bonding on the most ridiculous level, stupidity. I finally stopped laughing as the fear and discomfort came back. He continued to polish my body, eventually getting me to turn over and doing the same to my back. This wasn’t too bad. Eventually I got to the table, partially dazed, as he started working my arms, neck and shoulders, his feet firmly on the ground now. I relaxed, and enjoyed it. Not sure if it was relief that it was over or that it felt good. Kind of like the feeling when a painful brain freeze goes away. It's almost worth the pain to feel the relief.

He finished the whole process with my fingers and he just walked away, leaving me to lie there for I don't know how long, my body buzzing. Eventually I sat up and he returned, walking a towel the size of two sheets of bounty over to me. I was glistening with oil everywhere. Like I had an orgy with a bucket of KFC original recipe. This towel was not going to do the job. This is where I would miss the après massage routine common amongst all spas. Most importantly the part that involves showering. I don't need the robe, the comfy chairs and magazines, or even the endless bowl of fresh fruit. But a shower, a bucket of water, a wet sponge would’ve been nice. But here I get a ratty towel to just wipe the oil off or, more precisely, rub it in. I put my clothes back on right there, looking and feeling victimized. I stepped out of the tent, thanking my friend for our moment of intimacy. I wonder if he laughed when I was gone. As I got back to my hut, I saw myself in a mirror and I looked like Nick Nolte's mug shot. I was greasy and dirty and my hair was mussed up like I just finished wrestling a bear. When we all met for dinner that night in our grubby, oil soaked clothes, there was very little talk about it. It was more like an incident that needed to be thought through and reflected on. Not casual dinner discussion.

I think the massage was the end for me. We spent another day or two at a lovely resort, but all I could think about was going home. I had enough, slightly defeated by the masseuse, the minyan, the begging, the barfing, the crapping and just the lack of any normalcy. I loved India. It will always have a special place in my heart, my mind and my stomach. On the final night before our flight the 9 of us were sitting in a hotel room in Mumbai. This was Jeremy's room as he was staying for another week. I looked at him with such pity, that he had to stay. He started laughing because it was incomprehensible to me that he wanted to stay. He could try to explain but I wouldn't believe him. We said goodbye and left him there as we headed to the airport.

When our flight from India arrived at Heathrow I started thinking about one thing. What can I eat to get back to normalcy? I was like an animal set free. The other guys did not have the same enthusiasm as I did. Now I realize the question "where's the best meal you ever ate" is a completely relative one. I've eaten in some of the best restaurants in Paris, Florence, New York. Just some great meals. But my answer to the question is "the Burger King at Heathrow on my way home from India." In fact, I told my friends that I was going to eat by myself. "This is a solitary experience”. I took my whopper, my fries, my other whopper and my coke and tucked into a corner of the airport for some culinary masturbation. That was truly an out of body experience. I didn't want to be seen because I think I was actually crying. All the angst, the discomfort, the extremes that I experienced during that trip came out as I was devouring that symbol of home. Still in a foreign country, and even with their ketchup that's not exactly right, I did get the feeling of privilege and honor to have had the opportunity to spend 10 days in India. So when someone asks what I think of India I would answer this way - "It's not like anything you've ever experienced. A little strange and hard to describe. You have to do it to understand it. It may be a little uncomfortable while you're there but when you leave you'll never forget it." I guess it's the same answer I would give if someone asked me to describe an Ayurvedic massage. Except, remember, they use their feet.