Glasgow transforms into New York as Spider-Man filming begins
US flags and banners have been draped on the sides of buildings, and highly-realistic but fake items that are commonly seen in the Big Apple line the streets.
A number of US vehicles have been spotted near the Scottish Event Campus, including New York Police Department cars, buses, and food vans.
Road closures and diversions throughout the city can be expected until filming ends on August 15.
The film stars Tom Holland as the titular character and Zendaya as Michelle Jones 'MJ' Watson.
Jon Bernthal will star as The Punisher, and Charlie Cox plays Daredevil.
It marks the fourth installment in the Marvel Cinematic Universe's Spider-Man franchise, and creators have said it will see a change in tone when compared with the previous three movies, which were released in 2017, 2019, and 2021.
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Scottish Sun
31 minutes ago
- Scottish Sun
Spider-Man ace Tom Holland spotted on Glasgow street as filming for blockbuster ramps up
Click to share on X/Twitter (Opens in new window) Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) HOLLYWOOD icon Tom Holland has been spotted on a Glasgow street as filming for the new Spider-Man flick ramps up. The Avengers star is in the city to shoot scenes for the latest instalment of the masked web-slinger's story. Sign up for the Entertainment newsletter Sign up 7 Tom Holland has been spotted in Glasgow filming for Spider-Man Credit: The Scottish Sun 7 He was seen on set this morning chatting to production crews Credit: The Scottish Sun 7 Spider-Man was hooked up as he stood on a tank for a chaotic car scene Credit: PA Media The blockbuster film, due to be released next year, has generated excitement amongst locals over the last few months. The eagerly awaited sequel, officially titled Spider-Man: Brand New Day, will see Tom Holland reprise his iconic role. It is believed that Stranger Things actress Sadie Sink has been cast to star alongside Holland. And over the last few days, Bothwell Street in the city centre has been transformed into downtown New York. Crews working on the big-budget Marvel movie spent the sunny Saturday prepping an intense stunt involving a TANK after filming officially started on Friday. And today, Holland was spotted in his iconic Spider-Man suit walking along the streets as crews prepared to film more scenes. He was seen chatting to director Destin Daniel Cretton and other members of the production team as they walked across the set. They then began filming a chaotic car stunt, which saw Spider-Man standing on top of a tank as it flew down Bothwell Street. Three New York-style police cars followed in hot pursuit as they sped down the road with their lights flashing behind him. Extras on foot were seen running and surrying up the pavement in a panic guided by actors dressed in police costumes. Spider-Man 4 starts shooting in Glasgow as Hollywood film swings into city A huge scaffolding structure safety rig was set up around the tank for Spider-Man to be harnessed in as he stood on the roof. He was attached to cables, which kept him steady as the vehicle sped down the street. It comes after crews filmed a huge chase scene yesterday which saw cars thrown into the air. A huge crowd lined the bottom of the street as a black film car raced ahead of the tank as it rumbled down the road. A taxi and a van attached to hydraulic ramps were thrown into the air as the war machine sped past, with punters gasping in excitement as the vehicles were left suspended in the air. A high-tech drone with a camera attached was zooming overhead to get aerial shots of the stunt. The tank then came to a screeching halt at the bottom of the street. There were some cheers and applause after the stunt ended, bringing some excitement to both movie fans and people going about their day. In later scenes, a stunt double for Tom Holland was spotted on top of the tank as it sped along the street. TOP FILMING LOCATION THE flick has brought movie-fever to Glasgow once again, with some punters dressed as Spider-Man putting in an appearance. Holland, 29, returns as the titular character, with real-life girlfriend Zendaya, 28, as Michelle Jones "MJ" Watson, Jon Berntha, 48, portraying The Punisher, and Charlie Cox, 42, as Daredevil. Filming is set to move further along into Merchant City after Wednesday, August 13, with scenes are also expected to be shot on Glassford Street and Virginia Street. It is just the latest lot of filming taking place in Glasgow. Earlier this year, Hollywood hunk Glen Powell filmed scenes for sci-fi flick Ghost Writer on Bothwell Street. It is his second time in the city in a year, as he filmed on the exact same street for the remake of 80's hit Running Man in November. World War Z, which starred Brad Pitt, 61, previously used George Square to represent Philadelphia, while the city was also transformed into Gotham City for Batgirl and The Batman. And the Merchant City got turned into 1960's New York for a parade chase scene in Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. Glasgow is starting to resemble the Big Apple for Tom Holland's latest MCU appearance. Historic street signs have been covered with decor from Manhattan. Hot dog carts and newsstands are scattered among the streets. American adverts for flats to rent and insurance firms are even plastered over buildings on the street. Movie vehicles are also being stored on West Campbell Street. The road is lined with an ambulance and New York Fire Department pick-up truck. There are also scores of iconic New York yellow taxis and NYPD police cars. 7 Filming is currently taking place on Bothwell Street Credit: PA Media 7 Yesterday, locals watched as crews filmed a huge chase scene Credit: Splash 7 Tom Holland's stunt double was seen filming scenes yesterday Credit: Splash
The Guardian
14 hours ago
- The Guardian
Nostalgia is eating us alive. Instead of building a new world, we're regurgitating a past that never existed
There has been much talk about our hunger for a 'return to optimism'. Our world has been too real for too long, and we all just want a bit of shelter from the storm. We look back in patronising nostalgia at Obama's Hope poster in the same way we insist music hasn't been real music since about 1986 (or since 1966, or since the Great American Songbook, or since Mozart, depending who you talk to). Movie theatres are propped up by two monolith tent poles: DC's umpteenth Superman and Marvel's Fantastic Four reboot, both attempting a full factory reset of their flagship properties. It offers a return to the originals – AKA, the 'good old days'. But this isn't so much a yearning for a new optimism as it is a resuscitation of an old one. The Fantastic Four is even set in a 1960s Jetsons-style alternate reality (the first comic was published in 1961). Remember this? This is Things As They Should Be™. The great irony in this regurgitation of old aesthetics is that, they themselves looked forward. The joy and optimism of the space age showcased the marvellous and fantastic possibilities of technology and science, before we knew that those same industries would slowly start choking our own atmosphere. We want to go back to that time, when we could feel good about driving our big shiny bubble cars and tease our hair up guilt-free – without thinking about the ozone or whatever. This perceived collective optimism was never real, of course. But now, after decades of doom storytelling and hope erosion, we want the dream back. What's happening in the culture is more than the good honest fun of theme park recreations, 1950s diners and old west camera filters. This is an earnest but somehow deeply sad defibrillation of dead worlds, built around a hollow craving that can never ever be filled. We are birds constantly regurgitating and eating our own upchuck. Same flavour but different colour, different flavour but same chunks. Its passion looks inspirational, but its sniff is grief. It works, but not quite — as fresh as microwaved leftovers. It's the cultural equivalent of Maga – the lie that there was some glorious past where things were flourishing and wholesome and if we can just get back there we'll be on track again. But there never was that past. It's a distortion of immature childhood memories and historical rewriting by big corporations. This is the multiverse made real by an increasingly small cabal of conglomerates leveraging their various assets, stuffing each storytelling turducken full of old money-makers to reduce the risk in anything new. It's not so much the multiverse as the IP-verse. Every brand everywhere all at once. Over time this starts to feel like a photocopy of a photocopy. The AI boom is quite literally sampling and recycling things that already exist. When I see a brand-new building proudly inspired by the art deco movement of 100 years ago, I wonder if the great deco designers knew way back then that they were on the blind precipice of the future, or were they recreating their own nostalgic past? I wonder, as typography and graphic design trends cycle through recreations of past 'vintage' ideas, what the concept of 'vintage' meant to people back when it was, to them, modern? Having lost hope for the future, we have always looked back for comfort. We have to be cautious of the reasons why. Why did Nazi aesthetics have such a fetish for ancient Rome? Why did Soviet culture idolise modern industrial style? Even in The Handmaid's Tale's Gilead, they revere the natural and organic by insisting on non-GM and high-fat foods. The world around us tells us a lot about our beliefs. We are all potential victims of this ideological myth-making. It's invisible but everywhere, and it's difficult to tell if people in power aim to manufacture a world that matches their values or if it's some kind of naturally developing, laissez-faire attraction. We're all dreaming of a better time from the past, since there is no future. We've stopped dreaming about building – now we dream of recreating. It's not recreating the actual thing that we want, it's the yearning to recreate the feeling we had back then. In my local city centre, I drive past heritage-protected sandstone buildings with the names of the original shopfronts still carved at the top. The mason etching that date in the rock was doing it for the future, so as time stretched on his mark would stay there, even for me now as I whip past the exact same building in a space shuttle machine he could never even dream of. Imagine a shop front named something like, 'Nolan and Sons Merchants, est. 1861.' And on the shop front awning below it, computer-printed on laminate in an deliberately old-timey font, 'Buzz'd Cafe, est. 2025.' Take a sledgehammer to the wall of this cafe. Pierce the membrane of lino wallpaper printed to look like rustic bricks and find sterile chalk-white plasterboard from the previous shop, which was itself once added to modernise and cover the rustic brick walls beneath. You can find these rings of a tree in everything: generations on top of generations of us each trying to make our own existence matter and either cover or recover the ones before us. So, do we seek comfort in the baby blanket of our past myths – or do we try to create our own new ones? Martin Ingle is a writer and film-maker
The Guardian
15 hours ago
- The Guardian
Nostalgia is eating us alive. Instead of building a new world, we're regurgitating a past that never existed
There has been much talk about our hunger for a 'return to optimism'. Our world has been too real for too long, and we all just want a bit of shelter from the storm. We look back in patronising nostalgia at Obama's Hope poster in the same way we insist music hasn't been real music since about 1986 (or since 1966, or since the Great American Songbook, or since Mozart, depending who you talk to). Movie theatres are propped up by two monolith tent poles: DC's umpteenth Superman and Marvel's Fantastic Four reboot, both attempting a full factory reset of their flagship properties. It offers a return to the originals – AKA, the 'good old days'. But this isn't so much a yearning for a new optimism as it is a resuscitation of an old one. The Fantastic Four is even set in a 1960s Jetsons-style alternate reality (the first comic was published in 1961). Remember this? This is Things As They Should Be™. The great irony in this regurgitation of old aesthetics is that, they themselves looked forward. The joy and optimism of the space age showcased the marvellous and fantastic possibilities of technology and science, before we knew that those same industries would slowly start choking our own atmosphere. We want to go back to that time, when we could feel good about driving our big shiny bubble cars and tease our hair up guilt-free – without thinking about the ozone or whatever. This perceived collective optimism was never real, of course. But now, after decades of doom storytelling and hope erosion, we want the dream back. What's happening in the culture is more than the good honest fun of theme park recreations, 1950s diners and old west camera filters. This is an earnest but somehow deeply sad defibrillation of dead worlds, built around a hollow craving that can never ever be filled. We are birds constantly regurgitating and eating our own upchuck. Same flavour but different colour, different flavour but same chunks. Its passion looks inspirational, but its sniff is grief. It works, but not quite — as fresh as microwaved leftovers. It's the cultural equivalent of Maga – the lie that there was some glorious past where things were flourishing and wholesome and if we can just get back there we'll be on track again. But there never was that past. It's a distortion of immature childhood memories and historical rewriting by big corporations. This is the multiverse made real by an increasingly small cabal of conglomerates leveraging their various assets, stuffing each storytelling turducken full of old money-makers to reduce the risk in anything new. It's not so much the multiverse as the IP-verse. Every brand everywhere all at once. Over time this starts to feel like a photocopy of a photocopy. The AI boom is quite literally sampling and recycling things that already exist. When I see a brand-new building proudly inspired by the art deco movement of 100 years ago, I wonder if the great deco designers knew way back then that they were on the blind precipice of the future, or were they recreating their own nostalgic past? I wonder, as typography and graphic design trends cycle through recreations of past 'vintage' ideas, what the concept of 'vintage' meant to people back when it was, to them, modern? Having lost hope for the future, we have always looked back for comfort. We have to be cautious of the reasons why. Why did Nazi aesthetics have such a fetish for ancient Rome? Why did Soviet culture idolise modern industrial style? Even in The Handmaid's Tale's Gilead, they revere the natural and organic by insisting on non-GM and high-fat foods. The world around us tells us a lot about our beliefs. We are all potential victims of this ideological myth-making. It's invisible but everywhere, and it's difficult to tell if people in power aim to manufacture a world that matches their values or if it's some kind of naturally developing, laissez-faire attraction. We're all dreaming of a better time from the past, since there is no future. We've stopped dreaming about building – now we dream of recreating. It's not recreating the actual thing that we want, it's the yearning to recreate the feeling we had back then. In my local city centre, I drive past heritage-protected sandstone buildings with the names of the original shopfronts still carved at the top. The mason etching that date in the rock was doing it for the future, so as time stretched on his mark would stay there, even for me now as I whip past the exact same building in a space shuttle machine he could never even dream of. Imagine a shop front named something like, 'Nolan and Sons Merchants, est. 1861.' And on the shop front awning below it, computer-printed on laminate in an deliberately old-timey font, 'Buzz'd Cafe, est. 2025.' Take a sledgehammer to the wall of this cafe. Pierce the membrane of lino wallpaper printed to look like rustic bricks and find sterile chalk-white plasterboard from the previous shop, which was itself once added to modernise and cover the rustic brick walls beneath. You can find these rings of a tree in everything: generations on top of generations of us each trying to make our own existence matter and either cover or recover the ones before us. So, do we seek comfort in the baby blanket of our past myths – or do we try to create our own new ones? Martin Ingle is a writer and film-maker
