Broken Frontier

Everyone knows what the web slinger’s wearing these days, but no one knows why—until now.

Spider-Man’s life over the last year has been harrowing, to say the least. First, he learned a dark and painful truth about his true love, Gwen Stacy. Then, ironically, he got everything he ever dreamed of—including a life with Gwen and a son—but lost it all when Wanda Maximoff created then obliterated the House of M. And before he could properly grieve for a life he never had, he was stricken by disease, as chronicled in The Other. And now, as if everything has been leading up to it, a new, different Spider-Man takes to the city with new powers and a new suit, courtesy of Tony Stark. The genius industrialist wants something in return, though, and just like Spidey’s new suit, there’s more to Stark’s offer than meets the eye.

In the age of big media, hype very often has a life of its own. Consider, as an example, releasing images of Spider-Man’s new costume before it actually appeared in a Spider-Man comic. By virtually all accounts, fans either hate it or cynically see it as another media ploy to juice sales. And yet—we are talking about Marvel’s most iconic hero after all—the odds are heavily in Marvel’s favor that the number of regular readers who might drop the title simply because they loathe the outfit will be vastly smaller than the number of non-fans (like me) who will check out a Spider-Man title just to see what all the buzz is about. Go figure. Indeed, despite an almost universally negative reaction, not to mention a cover depicting atrocious "arms" protruding from the back of the suit, "Iron Spidey" has been a remarkably well played move on Marvel’s part. The new outfit has all our attention now—legions more than the number who would otherwise read a Spider-Man title to find out why in the first place.

Why is much more intriguing, and J. M. Straczynski’s script shines because that’s where it stays focused. The classic three-act plotting—because of its simplicity—couldn’t be more effective. Act 1 sets the stage, defining the parameters of the Stark/Parker relationship and introducing Spider-Man’s new suit along with killer app features like bullet-proofing, GPS navigation, and limited gliding (I’ve always missed the webbing on Spidey’s costume. It’s good to have it back.) The extended Act 2 serves one purpose only—showing off Spider-Man in action with his heightened powers and his new suit—and does so rather well. After trial upon tribulation, Parker is back, and definitely having fun being a superhero. But the first two acts are only build-up to the all-important Act 3—in which we learn what Stark wants from Peter in return. This last act—the dialogue heavy but not bloated, the cliffhanger so West Wing in a good way—makes all the hype worthwhile. There’s drama in Peter’s response to Tony, "Iron Spidey" suddenly becoming more a symbol than spectacle, the first steps on the road to Civil War falling ominously, as if there are indeed dark days ahead.

As a superhero artist, new penciller Ron Garney is more than capable. His art has only one job to do in this issue—sell the suit. An uphill battle perhaps, as, instead of merely ugly, the suit’s just uninspired, but Garney finds ways to work well with it in the action sequences. His approach is intriguing—in addition to the lithe, sinuous, balletic movements and postures that are Spider-Man’s trademarks, Garney conveys not just a new suit, but a new Spider-Man with shots, poses, and movements we typically associate with more powerful heroes—the Captain Marvel sort who fly and shoot energy bolts. Still, he never lets the essence of the character get out of sight. Add to this a strong sense of action in his bold line work, and a knack for visual storytelling, and it seems that the new Spider-Man is in the good hands of a new artist.

I’m not crazy about the costume, but it makes a lot of sense now, and is perhaps one of the few things that will on the road to Civil War.