REVIEW: Spider-Man/Red Sonja #4

Reviews

REVIEW: Spider-Man/Red Sonja #4

Writer: Michael Avon Omeing
Artist: Mel Rubi

Dynamite Entertainment/Marvel Comics

You either hate this book or you love it. Me? I love it.

Yes, I know that the covers by Michael Turner are – even by the lax standards of Michael Turner covers – abysmal. By Crom, Sonja appears to be a ballerina stretching on a pole rather than a warrior maiden wielding a sword!



Yes, this book is based on an unmitigated silly concept. It’s centers around the concept that an evil wizard is awakened, transforms New York City into a Hyborian metropolis, everybody but Peter Parker is changed along with it and Mary Jane is possessed by the spirit of Red Sonja.

Yes, I know that the fact that it is an unmitigated silly concept that has its’ roots in a story that was created by Chris Claremont and John Byrne back when they were both at the top of their game excuses nothing.

Yes, I know the fact that this book is being overseen by Mel Rubi and Michael Avon Oeming – the team who brought Red Sonja back to greatness in her only monthly book – also excuses nothing.



And yes, even I admit that Kulan Gath being possessed by the Venom Symbiote is probably one of the stupidest things I’ve seen in comics all year.

And yet, I don’t care.

Because all is shattered by the sheer unadulterated awesome that is Joeseph, Son of Robert; Rebel Leader!



Seriously. You do not get better comics than the Joseph “Robbie” Robertson speaking faux-Shakespeare wielding a sword and getting ready to put the smack down on a group of trolls without help. And if you can’t appreciate that, then you really can’t appreciate this book.

Yes, this book is a bit silly. But it is unashamedly silly, like a child with a towel tied around their neck insisting in all seriousness while smiling widely that they are in fact Superman. More than a lot of comics today, this book is fun. And that can allow me to forgive a lot these days when so few comics – even the ones I enjoy – are truly fun.

He stands at the center of the universe, old as the stars and wise as infinity. And he can see the turning of the last page long before you’ve even started the book. He’s like rain and fog and the chilling touch of the grave. He is called many names in a thousand tongues on a million worlds. Heckler. The Smirking One. Riffer. The Lonely Magus. Wolf-Brother. The God of Snark. Mister Pirate. The Guy In The Rafters. Captain. The Voice In The Back. But here and now, in this place and in this time, he is called The Starman. And... he's wonderful.