Yeah, I saw The Amazing Spider-Man at 3 pm yesterday afternoon at the AMC Century City plex…and what of it? What have I got to do with it? Isn’t it enough that I went? I didn’t hate it. I could’ve done without the lizard but it’s…well, it’s not too bad. Better than Sam Raimi‘s last two Spider-Mans. Certainly better than the last one. But c’mon…another origin story?

I really, really liked Andrew Garfield‘s performance as Peter Parker — deft, skilled, quietly charismatic. Emma Stone delivers her usual pluck, Rhys Ifans provides soulful anguish, Dennis Leary is a pain-in-the-ass flatfoot, Sally Field over-emotes, Martin Sheen looks out of breath, etc.

But it’s just another loud throbbing 3D tentpole, delivering the same atmospheric whomp, the same vibe, the same aural-visual gutslams that say “you’re watching a really expensive flick with the requisite heart beats and thematic uplift, and with a big loud CG lizard with a tail that whips around and smashes test-tube beakers…and what do you care? All you want is the same basic fundamental crap that you’ve always shown up for time after time, and that’s why you’ve once again paid $35 bills for two tickets plus another $15 for two popcorns and a Coke.”

I felt like such an asshole, such a chump, such a pathetic stooge as I walked in. Sony and Marc Webb got my money, all right. Close to $50 bucks so I could put on my 3D glasses and munch the popcorn and slurp the Diet Coke and sit in my seat and go “mmm-uhm-hmmm”….whatever.