Or "Peter Parker: The Decimal Saga, Part One"It's been a long time since I've made mine Marvel.
It's also been a long time since I've made mine mine DC. Technically, I never really made mine DC; I only read Batman. But, the point I'm making is that since the summer of 2012, I have avoided reading the mainstream superhero titles from the big two publishers. It's not me being a snob... okay, maybe a little bit, but I can explain.
That summer of 2012 was a major transition period in my lifetime. I had just graduated high school and was about to begin my journey through college. For a few years, I had a subscription at my local comic book store. The subscription service worked like this: you subscribed to at least five ongoing titles. Each week, if any of your five chosen titles had a new issue, the clerk would have it in a file for you at the front of the store; you didn't have to search the racks for that comic; you just went right up to the counter and asked for your books. By subscribing, you would get a discount on your purchase at the store. This discount applied to anything you bought, even items that weren't on the pull list. It seemed like a pretty good deal.
As time went on, several titles on my pull list ceased publication. Sometimes, I would also add or drop a couple titles to the list. When a title I subscribed to but also grew tired of went out of print, I would feel a tiny spot of joy; "yay! I don't need to drop four bucks on that piece of crap anymore!" Eventually, books on my pull list were ending their runs, and my number of subscribed titles went below the minimum of five, but I still got the subscriber's discount. On one hand, I felt like I was cheating the system a bit. On the other hand, thank the lord that Mark Millar didn't make a fourth Ultimate Avengers storyline.
In Millar's defense, the first volume was pretty awesome. Also, I didn't hate the second Kick-Ass movie.
Now, we come back to summer, 2012. One day, I went up to the counter and asked to make some changes to my list. There may have been an addition (Ninja Turtles), but more than that, I wanted to make some subtractions. At that point, the guy at my store realized that there would now be fewer than five titles on my pull list. He informed me that if I couldn't bring the number up to five, I would no longer be able to subscribe. So, what did I do?
I ended my subscription. I thought that since I would soon leave for college, I wouldn't even get to the comic book store each week (this turned out to be bullshit; I went home every weekend in that first year, and I now commute). As I allowed the systematic destruction of my pull list, I had a revelation: these costumed thrillers I was obligated to buy on a monthly basis had started to exhaust me. I was tired to burning my time and money on the Marvel-DC comics system, a system that repeats stories over and over again. A system where, in one moment, the universe's status quo appear to be radically altered... and then, the editor-in-chief kills off the current version of the character and puts the original back in his place. The moment that my mom claimed might happen one day, the moment I argued was never gonna happen, happened; I grew tired of superhero comics.
(Before my mother claims victory, not so fast, mom. I only grew tired of Marvel and DC's mainstream superhero comics. I continued to read Dark Horse, Ninja Turtles, a couple indie comics, and those Japanese picture books. Also, I still don't watch professional sports. Sorry, mom.)
While I had stopped reading the big superhero titles, I hadn't stopped reading articles about them. During my retreat from superheroes, an interesting thing happened to Spider-Man; he switched minds with a dying Doc Ock. To me, the decision seemed strange, fascinating, and, based on a fundamental understanding of how superhero comics worked, destined to come to an end. This didn't stop several members of the moron community, who sent writer Dan Slott death threats, believing that Spider-Man would remain Doc Ock in Peter Parker's body for the rest of eternity.
Well, guess what, nerds. Peter Parker's back-- what's that? It's still Doc Ock? This is just a flashback?
Okay, I guess I should do the research before writing the review from now on. It turns out that this new issue of The Amazing Spider-Man (issue #700.1, because Marvel thinks people like decimal numbers) is the first part of a five-part flashback mini-series that I will call "Peter Parker: The Decimal Saga."I guess Marvel knew how many nerds were going to miss Peter Parker, so they decided to give him a nice five issues, since after all, it's not like they'll bring him back to life within the next year (I swear to God, they will). The first two-issue story in this five-issue saga is written by First Blood author, David Morrell. The issue I reviewed was illustrated by Klaus Janson. Having rambled on about my life history for long enough, I guess I'll start the review.
I'm serious; the Rambo guy wrote a Spider-Man comic.
The Story:
For this issue, David Morrell goes for a rather simple and classic Spidey narrative. Peter Parker is back at the Daily Bugle, working as a photographer under the employ of J. Jonah Jameson. In his spare time, he is Spider-Man. Recently, Peter has found his superhero duties to be quite stressful, and he's been losing sleep. On a November night, Peter visits his Aunt May, who tells him to take advantage of the coming blizzard and get some rest. In spite of his obsession with being Spider-Man, Peter stays at his apartment and tries to get himself a good rest. When a falling tree branch causes a citywide power outage, shenanigans ensue.
This is a slow book, but it's the good slow; yes, such a thing exists. We don't get much of the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man in this issue; he is limited to a quick montage at the beginning and a few panels at the end. This is fine, since as many comics appreciators have noted before, Spider-Man is a character defined more by his secret identity than he is by his costumed form. We get the familiar character beats, like his relationship with Aunt May and his interactions with the Spidey-hating J. Jonah. Initially, I was a bit annoyed by the fact that J. Jonah was editor-in-chief at the Bugle and Peter was a freelance photographer. Last time I read the book, J. Jonah was mayor of New York, and Peter was working for a major science form; it seemed like a regression to return them to the dying newspaper industry. Then, I did my research and learned that the book was a flashback, so I decided to let these classic roles pass.
I really like how Morrell's script plays on Spidey's hero's complex. By giving us a montage of Spidey saving various people in New York and ending said montage with him commenting on how "there's always more to do," Morrell allows us to contemplate the limitations of the superhero. Regardless of how hard Spider-Man tries to keep his city safe, he can't save everyone. By asking Peter to get his rest, Aunt May forces him to try to overcome that hero's complex.
Therefore, it seems fittingly ironic that a concern for his loving aunt is what puts Peter Parker back into the Spider-Man costume at the end of the book. I think it is brilliant how, for once, it wasn't a robber or super villain that brought Spider-Man out; it was merely his fear for Aunt May's safety during the power outage. The story reminds us how broad this character's range of heroism is, and it also acknowledges how much influence Aunt May has on the character of Peter Parker.
Did the story blow my mind? No. But, for what it was, it was a nice little tale about what goes on in our Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man's head.
The Art:
Your opinion of Janson's artwork will depend on your own preferences. Whoa, did I just suggest that art is subjective? Yes, I did! Janson's artwork falls in the middle ground between realistic and cartoony. Steve Buccellatto's colors lean towards the flat end. Personally, I enjoyed the way Janson draws the scenery and action scenes. A one-page spread of Spider-Man saving a cable car with his web really stood out to me, as did the image of a snow-covered field. The drawings of people were a bit more hit-or-miss. Don't get me wrong; they weren't bad. They just seemed a bit basic. Also, a quick way to determine how ballsy an artist is is to make note of how they draw J. Jonah's mustache. Janson settles for an inoffensive lip topper. Everyone knows that to show those readers that you just don't give a damn, you've got to give him the Hitler stache. Just ask the legend himself, Steve Ditko.
Rebel without a cause
An area where the book really succeeds is in its arrangement of panels. The order of words and pictures is easy to follow, and Janson is given adequate space for his most powerful visuals. Peter's struggle to rest is beautifully communicated through a sequence of equal-sized square panels, without heavy dialogue or sound effects. People don't always make note of the importance of panel arrangement, but it does make the difference between smooth reading and incomprehensible mess.
In Conclusion:
Is The Amazing Spider-Man #700.1 worth your time? Sure. The book won't redefine how you look at the character, but it will remind you of those elements of Peter Parker that have charmed readers and audiences for many years. I'm sure the book will work better if your read it with its second part. Thankfully, issue 700.2 is out on the shelves this week, as is 700.3. Don't go into it while thinking about continuity or the major implications of the Marvel universe; just prepare yourself for a nice, soft, low-key Spider-Man story. I'm sure it will make you feel better on the inside.
This comic book gets a grade of B.
Hello, Kevin.
ReplyDelete