Once again, Paul Jenkins delivers a Spider-Man story that's just on the cusp of being really strong. Once again, the writer offers a more mature take on a classic Spidey villain, bringing credibility to what was once simply a colorful character. What is new with this issue is the art. Regular artist Humberto Ramos steps aside to allow onetime Batgirl penciller Daimon Scott to strut his stuff on a Marvel book for a little while, and I'm impressed with what I found. The same sort of flair and intensity are maintained, but Scott's art is a little more grounded. To be honest, this is the best this title has looked since its debut last year.
As if enough tragedy hadn't befallen Dr. Curt Connors and his family over the course of their lives, another one comes crashing down on his head. His wife has passed away, claimed by cancer. The scientist's young son can't understand why his father didn't save his mother. Connors is at his wit's end, and the only things that keep him from losing himself to the monster that lurks within are the chance to do research that will wipe cancer from the face of the planet and the promise of his friend -- Peter Parker, AKA Spider-Man -- that everything will work out in the end. It seems as though that promise will prove to be an empty one.
There's an exaggerated tone to Scott's linework here, yes, but it's far more reigned in than what we saw in much of his work for DC Comics. Though one wouldn't be able to tell it from the awkward, stubby figure on the cover, his take on the title character is wonderful, capturing the same sort of agility and lightness that John (Amazing Spider-Man Romita, Jr. does. Scott's greatest contribution to this story, though, is how he captures the despair, anger and melancholy in Curt Connors's eyes. His torment shines through clearly here.
That sense of torment is just as evident in the script as well, and therein lies a problem. It's so apparent that Connors is teetering on the edge of a mutagenic precipice that one has to wonder why he and Peter don't see the inherent danger. The title character in particular comes off as terribly naive. One can buy into the notion that Connors is in denial, but Spidey's seen the same scenario arise time and time again. His actions here don't have the ring of truth of them as a result.
What does work is Connors's grief and in particular his strained relationship with his son. I love that Billy Connors is shown to be aging. He's not stuck in the static age mode that dominates super-hero comics. I also appreciated that Connors's motives here stretch out beyond himself. His origin has him immersed in an effort to ease his self-involved pain of missing a limb. Now, he's driven by the death of a loved one, not a part of himself.
