Spider-Man: Identity Crisis

Collects: Sensational Spider-Man #25-6, Amazing Spider-Man #432-3, Peter Parker: Spider-Man #88-9, and Spectacular Spider-Man #254-5 (1998)

Released: May 2012 (Marvel)

Format: 200 pages / color / $24.99 / ISBN: 9780785159704

What is this?: Spider-Man assumes four new identities as he tries to avoid arrest and a bounty on his head.

The culprits: Writers Todd DeZago, Howard Mackie, Tom DeFalco, and J.M. DeMatteis and artists Luke Ross, Todd Wieringo, John Romita Jr., and Joe Bennett

Spider-Man: Identity Crisis is Marvel’s follow up to Spider-Hunt — and by “follow up to,” I mean “Part 2 of,” as Identity Crisis is a continuation of the previous storyline, with an added gimmick.

As Identity Crisis begins, Spider-Man still has a $5 million bounty on his head and is still wanted for murder. To avoid arrest, he takes on four new identities: Hornet (in Sensational Spider-Man), Ricochet (in Amazing Spider-Man), Dusk (in Peter Parker: Spider-Man), and Prodigy (in Spectacular Spider-Man). To aid in the deception, Peter tries to put on different personalities for each costume, with mixed results. Prodigy and Hornet are straitlaced heroes, although Hornet is more inexperienced (and Peter’s slips quickly revealed Hornet is Spider-Man). Ricochet is the closest to the Spider-Man persona, quipping and jumping around like a 5-year-old who has mainlined Pixie Stix, but he is willing to work with criminals. Dusk, a man of mystery, is even shadier, openly consorting with the Trapster.

The multiple-identity idea has merit. I’ve always thought Peter should have a road uniform, an identity he dons outside New York to keep people from linking his travel patterns with Spider-Man’s.⁶⁸ But no matter how good the idea is, two issues per identity and two months overall isn’t enough to explore Peter’s “identity crisis,” and it was never going to last more than the two months. God forbid Peter use the Dusk or Ricochet identities to infiltrate the criminal underworld or Marvel devote one of the Spider titles to Peter donning different identities.⁶⁹ In any event, Peter blows the Hornet identity and compromises the rest, and in less than a year, the costumes and identities went to new characters who starred in the short-lived Slingers.

Marvel’s inability to capitalize on the gimmick is frustrating — and no matter what writer Todd DeZago says in the included promotional material, Identity Crisis is a gimmick, as Peter never seriously considers exploring the other identities. The bounty / murder investigation plot is largely ignored, and Identity Crisis feels like two months of waiting for everything to wrap up. Spider-Man should use his new identities to avoid bounty hunters and clear his name, but mainly he uses them to tweak Osborn and go about his regular business. As Hornet, he fights the Looter and the Vulture. Ricochet goes after the Black Tarantula’s goons, Bloodscream and Roughhouse. Prodigy rescues a foreign diplomat’s daughter from Jack o’ Lantern and Conundrum, an illusionist. Only as Dusk does Peter do anything related to his current problems: protecting the life of the Trapster, the man who framed him, and trying to tape record a confession. That doesn’t work, but off panel, he convinces Trapster to admit in public what he’s done and clear Spider-Man. Ta-da! That’s heroism!

I don’t really blame the writers — DeZago in Sensational, Tom DeFalco in Amazing, Howard Mackie in Peter Parker, and J.M.DeMatteis in Spectacular — for this lack of narrative drive. Editor Ralph Macchio has to take a good deal of the blame; the books would have improved with a firmer editorial hand or steadier eye. In a minor and yet annoyingly distracting mistake, Mackie and artist John Romita Jr. show Peter accidentally donning pieces of all his different costumes in Peter Parker #91; in Amazing #435, DeFalco and Joe Bennett use essentially the same unfunny gag, mixing and matching the Spider-Man costume with his Ricochet costume. More seriously, Macchio allows each writer to advance subplots, which range from the Scriers, Alison Mongrain, and Kaine’s Grecian holiday in Amazing to Aunt Anna’s secret origins in Spectacular. The former is important to the “Gathering of Five / Final Chapter” storylines that relaunched the Spider-titles six months later, but it made the rest of the subplots irrelevant. Letting subplots continue during an event was a step forward for Marvel, which tried to minimize or excise them from the big X-crossovers of the early ‘90s.

The relaunch was a bit of a relief, though, as it made this book’s difficult continuity irrelevant. Identity Crisis reprints the issues in order of publication, but the story doesn’t make sense in that order — Spectacular #254, for instance, leads directly into #255, but it’s near impossible to order the other issues around them. The editors weren’t considering reprints at the time, but it must have been aggravating to read in 1998.

Macchio also could have mandated a consistent portrayal of Peter’s wife, Mary Jane. Identity Crisis falls between the Clone Saga, the first real salvo in the war vs. Peter and Mary Jane’s marriage, and The Next Chapter, the first time the marriage was done away with, so it’s interesting to see how Mary Jane is characterized. The portrayal varies; Mary Jane ranges from a co-conspirator in the costumed chicanery to a borderline shrew. It’s no surprise the former is more appealing. She designs the costumes (except for the Dusk outfit) and endorses the four-identity plot, but she also complains about the idea and nags her husband about his feelings of responsibility. DeZago plays her as supporting but worried when appropriate; DeFalco’s Mary Jane turns from enthusiastic to nagging on a dime; Mackie goes for nagging first, then to support; DeMatteis’s MJ is a callback to previous times, slightly resenting Peter’s duty but loving him anyway. Part of the various characterizations are because of different contexts, but DeFalco and Mackie seem convinced Mary Jane is a stumbling block for Peter to overcome. (Given what Mackie does to Mary Jane in The Next Chapter, that’s not surprising.)

A Spider-Man crossover in the ‘90s means at least four artists. Mike Wieringo’s work on Sensational is extremely pretty and expressive, easily the best in the collection. Romita’s work on Peter Parker is weak, even by my low expectations for his ‘90s work; for instance, if Norman Osborn didn’t have cornrows, he would be identical to Trapster, according to Romita. Spectacular’s Luke Ross does some nice design work with Conundrum, but he has trouble with subtle expressions (especially during Peter and Anna's talk in #257). Amazing’s Bennett turns in fine work, especially in the Buscema-ish touches on Roughhouse.

The book does have a couple of bewildering visual touches, though. Again, I think Macchio needed to step in and ask a few questions. Delilah, the Rose’s henchwoman, occasionally has a more ornate, larger font within her word balloons, and the font varies in both size and color. The dialogue stands out, but not in a good way; I have no idea what Amazing letterers Kiff Scholl and Richard Starkings are trying to communicate with the font. (Bold text or slightly larger text means a louder volume or emphasis, but this goes well beyond that.) The same goes for the Conundrum’s puzzle-shaped speech boxes in Spectacular; they are visually interesting, but what are Scholl and Starkings saying? I don’t need to be told they’re Conundrum’s dialogue, and I have no idea what a puzzle piece sounds like. The colorist on Amazing, Bob Sharen, makes an odd but Comics-Code inspired choice when the villain Bloodscream makes Delilah “bleed … through her skin!” From the colors, I’d say she bleeds milk from her eyes and A-1 Sauce from her nose.

I’m glad I read Identity Crisis. It completed Spider-Hunt, and it bridged part of a gap in Spider history I wasn’t familiar with. However, it was a stunt, and the actual story is fluff, with no long-lasting consequences or outstanding moments of characterization. Unless you’re a big Spider-fan, you should read the summaries on SpiderFan.org. Yes, DeFalco sets up plots that lead to the relaunch, but these are plots involve the Scriers and Alison Mongrain, which are better summarized than endured.

Rating: (1.5 of 5)

Alpha Flight: The Complete Series by Pak and Van Lente

Collects: Alpha Flight #0.1, 1-8 (2011-2)

Released: May 2012 (Marvel)

Format: 208 pages / color / $29.99 / ISBN: 9780785162834

What is this?: The original Alpha Flight team is back, battling a government seemingly gone mad and a traitor from within.

The culprits: Writers Greg Pak and Fred Van Lente and artists Dale Eaglesham and Ben Oliver

I wanted to like Alpha Flight: The Complete Series. I like Alpha Flight, as a team. The writers, Greg Pak and Fred Van Lente, have produced books I’ve liked, such as their Incredible Hercules run. And in this series, Pak and Van Lente reunite Alpha Flight’s classic lineup in its own book for the first time since the John Byrne run.

But it’s tough to recreate greatness a quarter century on. The characters, creators, and readership have all changed. The title changed a great deal after Byrne left, with writers such as Bill Mantlo, James Hudnall, and Simon Furman guiding Alpha Flight for more than 100 issues. After the original series ended, Alpha Flight was relaunched twice: a Steven Seagle / Duncan Rouleau conspiracy story and a critically lambasted Scott Lobdell run. What “Alpha Flight” means changed, so much so we forget the original lineup existed for single issue. Characters have been killed, brought back to life, and killed again. In fact, the last time I checked, everyone starring in this book was dead. Marrina had been dead for decades, killed in Avengers in 1986. Northstar was killed by Wolverine as cheap carnage in 2005’s Enemy of the State. The rest died between panels because Brian Bendis said so.

Unfortunately, there’s no explanation of how Guardian, Vindicator, Sasquatch, Shaman, or Marrina came back to life. (Puck says he escaped from Hell, which at least acknowledges that he died.) Maybe it has something to do with the Fear Itself crossover, which manifests itself in this book as people running around with anime-sized hammers. A little research reveals the Chaos War storyline allowed the team to return, but The Complete Series doesn’t explain the link or mention either crossover. And even invoking Chaos War doesn’t explain how dead liaison / traitor Gary Cody had time to build a political career. And hey — did you know Guardian and Vindicator had a kid? It’s true! And they lost custody to Heather’s cousin? Also — apparently — true. Is it too much to ask for footnotes so I know Pak and Van Lente have created and what they have been saddled with? I don’t think so. Footnotes are your friend. They’re everyone’s friend, and I missed them very much in The Complete Series.

Pak and Van Lente mix the old with the new, which sounds like a good idea but is troublesome in practice. Alpha Flight’s arbitrariness is the main problem with the series. The characters seem to return from the dead for no reason, their personalities plucked from someplace in their histories. The writers have brought some characters back to their roots, regressing them. Sasquatch flirts with Aurora, who still battles her multiple personalities. Despite years with Alpha Flight and time with the X-Men, Northstar is still not a joiner. Puck is still exuberant, although he’s a bit mad now. Snowbird is still slightly imperious and slightly distant, and Shaman is still Shaman. But Marrina is recast into a violent, moody teenager coming to grips with her alien nature. Sasquatch loses his powers, and when he reacquires them, he has a Hulk-like personality. The Purple Girl has grown into the Purple Woman, taken fashion cues from Carmen Sandiego, and become a terrorist.

This mix of progression and regression is bothersome. Aurora, Northstar, and Sasquatch have lost years of development by returning to their factory-new states. It feels like the writers are casting around for a hook for these characters and settling on what’s been done before. Marrina’s new personality is a distraction. As a new character, she might have been entertaining; however, the contrast with who she was is jarring, especially since readers did not see the transition between personalities. And Shaman and Snowbird are both characters who should have something to say to Guardian about the loss of a child, but neither do; this seems less a lost opportunity and more of Van Lente and Pak casting aside or forgetting who Shaman and Snowbird are.

The villains’ plot — which involves mind control — does not help matters, especially given how extreme some of the actions Vindicator takes while controlled are. Aurora, switching between personalities and loyalties on a whim, exemplifies the lack of a core these characters have. Even the familiar characters feel off. Characters can only be remolded so much before they lose the shapes we liked, and I think that’s the case here.

The plot, which involves a Canadian government being controlled by the Master of the World, doesn’t feel like an Alpha Flight plot. Or — to be more accurate — if feels like a generic superhero plot that was roughly customized for Alpha Flight. The government takeover feels too over the top, with mass arrests of the opposition party and the press stretching credibility. The Master is an excellent choice for a foe, but he rarely feels engaged with the heroes, and his end goal — creating a race of humans who will conquer the universe — is power mad but delightfully without a point. Why conquer the universe? You might as well ask why he’s using a Wendigo as an operative. Because it’s something to do, I suppose; it’s always tough to keep busy when you’re immortal.

I enjoyed Dale Eaglesham’s art. It is attractive, and the characters are expressive without comically mugging. His illustration of the Master’s origins, drawn in a child’s style to convey that it is being told to Vindicator and Guardian’s daughter, is especially endearing. I’m not wild about Marrina’s new and occasionally mutating costume, but it’s not like her old costume — a one-piece swimsuit — was worth saving. I’m less enamored of Ben Oliver’s work on #0.1, although that may be the colorist’s fault — the painted-style colors makes everything look flat.

It’s ironic that Pak and Van Lente’s back-to-basics approach gives Alpha Flight an unsettling unfamiliarity. But the writers’ blithe attempts to take the team back to its beginnings leaves me at a loss; are these the characters I’ve enjoyed reading about? By the end I have to say no, even if they have the same names and appearances.

Rating: (1.5 of 5)

Batman, v. 1: The Court of Owls

Collects: Batman #1-7 (2011-2)

Released: May 2012 (DC)

Format: 176 pages / color / $24.99 / ISBN: 9781401235413

What is this?: Batman discovers and battles a secret cabal that has been ruling Gotham for centuries.

The culprits: Writer Scott Snyder and artist Greg Capullo

I’ve mostly stayed away from DC’s New 52 because reboots have nothing to offer me without revamping the underlying concepts into something different as well. Oh, I dabbled in the lineup’s new racial and genre diversity — Blue Beetle, Mr. Terrific, All-Star Western, Demon Knights — but mostly the idea of erasing all the old stories for a clean slate bores me. You want a clean slate? Come up with a new idea. Build it from the ground up.

That being said, there are some ways in which a clean slate is better. When I read the pre-reboot Batman: The Black Mirror, I spent an inordinate amount of time deciding whether James Gordon Jr. was a pre-existing character. If the commissioner of Gotham City Police Department had a psychopath for a son, that should be a big deal, one that should be frequently referenced, and it wasn’t. (Answer: Jimmy Junior existed, but not as an adult, and definitely not as a psychopath.) But with the mysterious Court of Owls in the New 52’s Batman, v. 1: The Court of Owls, I don’t have to worry about whether inserting a large-scale, Illuminati-like organization that has been controlling Gotham City for hundreds of years into the story makes any sense. I already know there’s nothing to contradict it in the New 52 continuity.

Writer Scott Snyder spends a great deal of time building the mythology of the Court into the fabric of his new Gotham. It’s the kind of thing that can be done effectively only with a new continuity; dropping yet another secret, powerful organization into the background of the Marvel Universe has been producing yawns since Stan Lee was still a writer, not an actor. And without some knowledge of the universe, the revelation of secrets and hidden powers can fall a little flat. So if you’re going to tell a story like this, the launch of the New 52 was the time to tell it.

Snyder is pitting legends against each other in Court. On one hand, you have Batman, who effectively rules Gotham’s night at the beginning of the story, with his enemies all in Arkham. Bruce Wayne is about to revitalize and rebuild Gotham. He’s pushing the envelope with his electronic toys, which lets him get even farther ahead of crime. He’s secure in who he is both as a leading citizen of Gotham and as a crimefighter. But he’s not exactly a secret or reclusive in either role, although there are allusions to Batman being regarded as a myth in the past. On the other side, Snyder presents the Court of Owls: reclusive, secret, hijacking Bruce’s great great grandfather’s building projects and making over Gotham for their own purposes. All the public knows about the Court is an old nursery rhyme (that doesn’t quite scan). They’re an urban legend, a nice inversion of the Batman legend.

That said, it’s unknown why the Court makes its move at the beginning of Court of Owls; this is a problem with making the Court of Owls the first storyline in Batman’s New 52 run. There’s no buildup or suspense; it has all the emotional setup of a fighting video game: Batman vs. Court of Owls — fight! Is it Bruce Wayne’s revitalization project that causes the Court to send their killer, the Talon, after Bruce? Or is it Batman’s success? Or both? The Court seems to have worked out who Batman and his associates really are, but it’s not spelled out. Snyder also tries to tie the Court into Nightwing’s backstory, which has the emotional impact of a feather duster over the head. Even Nightwing himself points out that he just doesn’t care about how the Court might have intersected his or his family’s long-ago, nebulous past. It doesn’t affect his present or future. If Dick doesn’t care, I don’t either, which makes this detail more annoying than intriguing (especially given how often this sort of thing is done in comics).

I do appreciate Snyder using Nightwing as someone who can talk to Batman, even if Batman doesn’t want to talk. Writers have that option with Alfred as well, but Alfred relates to Bruce, rather than Batman, and often as a father figure; Nightwing can relate to Bruce as a human being or Batman as a fellow crimefighter. I’m not sure what Snyder is saying by having Nightwing being on the correct side whenever the two argue — whether Batman is short sighted or a very flawed detective — or by having Batman backhand Nightwing during an argument (is he being a poor father? Are we supposed to see him as hopelessly violent? Or are we supposed to see Batman pushed to a breaking point?). It’s an unexpected, troubling dynamic between the men, and while some flaws might be good to humanize Batman, striking Nightwing goes a little far.

Snyder introduces a couple of new characters in Court. One is mayoral candidate Lincoln March, who is obviously supposed to be a mirror of Bruce Wayne; the two even look almost identical, although surprisingly March is taller. Like Bruce, March was orphaned at a young age and even has a memory of his mother’s jewelry at the site of her death. Unlike Bruce, though, March is self made. It’s easy to foresee a Two-Face or Black Mask turn for him, or maybe he’s in with the Court. I have no idea what to make of Harper, a bepierced character who aids Batman at a critical moment for a couple of pages. She has wiring and perhaps welding equipment in the back of her Tardis van, and she and Batman know each other. Other than that, she’s not mentioned, and I have no idea what her significance is.

Artist Greg Capullo does an excellent job designing the Court of Owls and its Talons. The Court’s featureless oval masks have just enough detail to suggest “owl” without sacrificing the creepy blankness. The Talons have an overwhelming similarity in color and shape to Batman’s costume, sans cape; they are instantly recognizeable, though, no matter how much they look like an Elsewords (or Earth-3) Batman. I also enjoyed the sequence in issue #5 that follows a disoriented Batman through the Court’s labyrinth; the layout switches to sideways before turning upside-down as things get worse and more confusing for Batman. On the other hand, I’m not sure of Capullo’s sense of scale; judging from the art, March must be twice as tall as Damian Wayne (possible, but barely) and 1.5 times as tall as Time Drake (implausible). And March looks too much like Bruce, no matter how similar they are supposed to be. That aside, I like Capullo’s work — simple without skimping on details and remaining expressive.

Still, I don’t know that I’m much interested in how the story plays out. Visuals aside, the Court of Owls doesn’t have the heft to interest me, and the Talon has — intentionally — little personality. I appreciate Snyder’s ambition in trying to build an organization that can rival the Bat Family. But one Talon — or even a flock of Talons — and their anonymous overlords don’t have that impact.

Rating: (2.5 of 5)