It's another Matthew Rosenberg B-list team miniseries, which is entertaining in its own snarky right, but it doesn't much distinguish itself from the author's past efforts.

Force Works escapes captivity, grasps the overall situation (rogue Deathloks are fighting giant robot Ultimo), and picks up an unlikely ally. It's got the usual Matthew Rosenberg sass and a brisk pace -- but the plot developments ride the narrow line between "good absurd" and "bad absurd." Not really essential, but enjoyable.

I made the mistake of reading IM 2020 #6 before this. Suffice it to say this series and the main event do not align in the slightest. I also believe there is for each reader a fixed number of issues after which Matthew Rosenberg's patented snark-a-matic team dynamic switches from "clever and refreshing" to "trite and repetitive." I'm afraid I passed that point long ago.

This collection has the misfortune of leading off with a Tom DeFalco strip that just extends his pointless exploration of Machine Man's old backstory. The other strips are more enjoyable, but still quite skippable. It's an event anthology -- always a dumping ground for mediocrity.

This comic is paced like it has an infinite number of pages to waste on nonsense.

This two-shot was at best methadone for Ironheart junkies.

Albert carves his way through Madripoor in search of his little pal Elsie Dee. He finds her, but unfortunately, they'll have to live through a whole other issue of meaningless, poorly-illustrated gang violence. It's a dull story on its own; its connection to the event is a wisp of general thematic philosophy -- Albert and Pierce clash over the idea of owning AIs.

This comic used the phrase "jewwied gasowine" twice, which is two more times than I ever wanted to read it.

The premises for each strip aren't spectacular, but they could work. And the art is sound middle-of-the-road stuff. But the words! I expected clunky retro cheese from Tom DeFalco, but Christos Gage drops down to the same level, which is a disappointing surprise.

Machine Man resists temptation and makes off with Jocasta's head (including a copy of the Obedience Virus). In the B Strip, the Wreckers and Aaron's old pals … exist. They win a pointless fight against some Bain robots and earn some highly-qualified respect from the rebel bots who helped them. This issue is par for the course for this event: Put together with sound storytelling skill, but fundamentally forgettable in a way that makes it hard to care about.

Pretty good character work, but the premise is thin and it seems like the characters know it. Also, unfortunately, it's got that sort of bottom-shelf art that just drains the reader's enthusiasm.

Everything about this comic screams, "I should be a digital original priced under $3."

It's a solid story and it lands somewhere very close to essential reading. The storytelling (words and art) is definitely above average; it's good without being fall-all-over-myself-praising-it great. As Tony Stark character studies go, it's mostly off-the-shelf stuff. But it is DEEPLY tied to the present moment in the event and it turns Tony's judgment into, I think, a pretty important plot point.

Eros's spotlight issue has no right to be this fun. The pretty art has a distinctive anime-esque style and it's executed with superlative skill. The script is structured in short, choppy scenes and the prose is likewise pithy. Taken together, the work delivers a surprisingly enjoyable peek into Starfox's head while also connecting some important plot points for the larger event.

These Gillen-scripted one-shots between #5 & #6 are plot-critical -- it doesn't hurt that they're also amazing reads. (This one is particularly beautiful on the art front, too.) I admit a significant part of my enjoyment comes from watching the Progenitor/the author DEMOLISH 2 points from recent issues of Gerry Duggan's X-Men: How Cyclops sorta bluffed his way into a thumbs-up in #14, and the proposition that Jean Grey paid off her Dark Phoenix debt by shutting down that casino in #12. But the rebuttals to those points are SO elegant that I'm pretty sure the 2 authors orchestrated them in advance. Doesn't make 'em any less satisfying to me.

There's nothing wrong with this script, but there's not much praiseworthy about it, either. The scene where Loki initially refuses to fight the dragon is probably the high point. As written, this issue could easily climb up past an "average" rating. All it would need is some good art. Bad news on that front…

It's appropriate that this issue is all about faith, because to me, it's asking for some faith on the reader's part. I'll give it freely -- everything about this event suggests that the author has an all-encompassing master plan. This issue is inscrutable by itself, but I'm betting its role will become clearer in the future. The art isn't to my taste, but I can tell that's subjective. It's no favorite of mine, but it's definitely not bad.

This expands on a few points already hinted at and foreshadows some developments still to come. The added detail and texture is appreciated. But the storytelling work (particularly the art) is rougher than the event's main issues; this is not so much "Judgment Day #1.5" as it is "Appendix A."

This is another step back from the main event to rewind and go into greater depth. And I love it. It's drawn decently; it's written amazingly. It is as close to great as it can be given that it's utterly reliant on the event's other issues for context. I use the phrase "Big Dumb Event™" a lot when talking about Judgment Day, particularly the main series, but I'm not (intentionally) slandering it with that term. This issue shows that there is considerable brilliance and heart beneath the bigness and dumbness. The author's doing a shockingly great job of big-picture and small-picture writing at the same time.

Wow, this is a heartbreaker. It explains a previous mystery (what happened to the Machine) and sets up a fresh one (what's Nightcrawler up to?). It has some beautiful character beats for the Machine and for my favorite breakout character, Syne the Memotaur. The art's perfectly satisfactory as a storytelling tool, but better visuals are definitely the missing boost that would kick this from "great" to "perfect."

This is a decent (maybe?) groundwork issue for the event to come, but it's a much better Eternals #13. I love the art. It's clearly related to Esad Ribić's work, but it has a more elastic style and a brighter finish. I love the foreshadowy bits of plot and character development salted over the script. And I love the oh-so-catty narrative voice of the Machine. I don't love so much the deepest of the conversations, which stray well afield from clarity. Because "Eternals #13" suits my taste exactly, I'll call this very good. But I wouldn't call it great, mostly (but not entirely) because I know it'll be a lot less enjoyable for a reader who skipped Eternals #1-12.

Well, phooey. This epilogue winds up being a good comic, but just barely. The art is fine, it does the job -- but no more. The script offers up plenty of sparkly little lines and some thoughtful new ideas. But it's such a survey issue that the high points are at risk of getting lost, even if the "background noise" is by no means bad. Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but most of this issue's emotional water (Ikaris's shame in particular) comes from wells the author already tapped in the pre-event Eternals series.

I don't know how this reads for somebody who's been following only some of the lead-in titles. I read 'em all, so I can't gauge how effective the "catch you up" bits of exposition are. Primed by all that background reading, I think this is pretty close to a best-case scenario for a Big Dumb Event™. The stakes are high, the art is spectacular, the plot is already moving swiftly, and -- best of all, in my opinion -- while the event is definitely Big and Dumb, the *characters* aren't getting too dumb to make it happen. It's very good. Not quite great; there's wiggle room for minor improvements. For instance, the author wanted Uranos's trip to Arakko to look horrible without filling whole pages with carnage. I think the artist went a little too subtle in implying that horror.

I'm just about as pleased as can be with the way this is developing. Not much character work, but of course, that's normal for a Big Dumb Event™. Instead, we get the right substitute: Amazing high-stakes plot twists. The way this story develops is simultaneously rational and surprising. The art looks good, but I think the action could be clearer and the characters could be more consistent. Tony Stark's pals should just knock him unconscious as soon as they suspect a Big Dumb Event™ is starting. Seems like he paves a good-intentions road straight to hell in every one, doesn't it?

I call these Big Dumb Events™ because even in a very good one (which this is), the stupid's never very far from the surface. In this case: "I will judge you individually to decide if the world is terrible. Captain America, you're supposed to inspire the world, but the world is terrible. Therefore, you're a failure." Forget Avengers and X-Men, send a community college logic professor to demolish his circular reasoning and begging of the question.

As expected, it has all the visual grandeur necessary for the climax of a big event. But it's even more impressive on the script side. The author fuses his interests in the personal and global, delivering a dramatic portrait of the world at a turning point. Also, he uses the word "panglossian". *Well.* It's like he knows I've been calling Judgment Day a "Big Dumb Event™" and set out to rebuke me in the most elegant, efficient way possible.

It's one of the most well-crafted, most engaging events I've ever read, and STILL my eyes start to roll when the bodies start piling up. Don't get me wrong, I'm still enjoying it and I want to see how it ends. But now there's a distinct, disbelief-no-longer-suspended slice of "I wonder what sort of fancy footwork will undo this" feeling alongside my more engaged anticipation.

Well, I just love this. The art's gorgeous (but falling off slightly at the end), the pace and structure are great, and the prose is practically bursting with beautiful moments of heart and humor. Of course, we knew a big reset button was coming, but the creators finesse it. No horrific genocidal casualties, but plenty of status quo changes. Best of all, the author ties the event up with a "do better" moral that has universal strength. It's progressive but not pious about it; I hope that even reactionary readers can take it in the spirit it's offered. Now bring on the Omega issue!

Venom + Carnage + body horror isn't in the same hemisphere as my wheelhouse, but the world-class storytelling talent on display here compels me to file it on the "next door to perfect" shelf. The True Comic Book Geek in me loves the way this issue puts Thunderbolt Ross on the continuity police's most wanted list. By "Immortal Hulk" rules, as a gamma mutate, he should be unkillable. But by "Absolute Carnage" rules, as a former symbiote host, he's super dead.

Most everything looks and sounds good, but we've reached the point where plot development comes before mood. The art and writing do still try to evoke horror, but it's not hooking me too well this time around.

I'm getting sharply diminishing returns on Carnage's cute little "blood for the blood god" speeches.

I don't often see an event and its subordinate series conflict this much. Some tie-in authors really wanted to have their heroes overcome Carnage's control, but Donny Cates is having none of it. (Miles is Exhibit A but Scream went there, too.) On the plus side, what happens to Eddie in this issue makes outstanding use of the hint from the Ghost Rider one-shot that codices carry their hosts' superpowers with them.

After all the wide-ranging conflict, Absolute Carnage comes down to a heinous Morton's Fork and Eddie is singularly ill-prepared to find a "real win" third option. This issue was another very strong art showing and it had some nice, tough dialogue. I was surprised by how utterly inconsequential all the tie-ins and guest-stars were in the end, though. I think this *should* have just been a big arc in Venom rather than a crossover event.

No, I'm not gonna be able to name the Life Foundation symbiotes after reading this. But I'm gonna have nightmares about the story tonight, which is a way more impressive accomplishment for the creators.

What about That Tourist Guy that the symbiote hitched a ride on for a few pages in the original alien costume saga? His life went to poo for entirely unrelated, but richly Marvel-esque (i.e. a random, destructive encounter with the White Rabbit), reasons. It has a shaggy dog ending, but exquisite storytelling makes the story meaningful prior to that. Gorgeous art, too. Essential? No. Satisfying? Yes!

Danny Ketch fails to save a deep-cut Ghost Rider carrying a codex from Carnage. It's got a grim outcome, but the art is outstanding and the script raises some interesting points for both Carnage and Johnny Blaze. I'd love it if other authors in the event picked up the idea that Carnage gains temporary superpowers after eating a hero's codex … but I'm not holding my breath. This is more important as a Ghost Rider comic (a pretty good one) than as a part of Absolute Carnage.

This is a must-read issue of Immortal Hulk that happens to involve the Absolute Carnage event. It's a lot more spotlight than Bruce Banner has been getting in IH. I love that he's got a low-key diva-martyr thing going on: "This is all about me." [conclusive proof it's not about him] "Okay, this isn't all about me, but I think I should make it all about me."

I was genuinely looking forward to seeing how this team came together, and this digressive yarn was pretty disappointing. But it's not without highlights; the artist on the Hawkeye section (Alberto Alburquerque, I believe) shot the moon to make his pages look cool.

I was constantly aware of how much the military black ops BS was arousing the author, and it had the opposite effect on me.

Captain Marvel makes some cute wisecracks while battling Carnage for the soul of her cat. I like much of the humor, but watching a hero win an utterly generic "pluck plus random zappy powers" victory isn't satisfying. Also, while individual panels of the art were great, the different inking approaches clashed hard.

It's drawn nicely, but Deadpool is written in maximum "LOL memes" mode and his laborious comedy slows everything down. The tone doesn't really fit with any of the other Absolute Carnage titles, but it's not really memorable enough to stand out as the event's designated parody volume.

This one worked a lot better for me than #1. I think it's because the not-so-serious tone and the plot were already dialed in and ready to go -- maybe set-up just isn't this creative team's strong suit.

The sudden realization that this story is practically an AU -- contradicting the main event and Spidey's ASM tie-in -- strikes like an ice-cold douche. Mediocre "LOL Memes" Deadpool action doesn't do nearly enough to compensate. At least the art is nice.

Maximum Carnage is practically required reading to understand this, and that sits poorly with me. It does have a nice creepy mood, though.

A good example of "conditionally acceptable" plotting: "Let's team up again because we teamed up in the last event" would be acceptable if the story was generally enjoyable. But here ...

I'll be honest, I'm relieved this series didn't identify the shadowy organization Misty is working for these days. That makes it that much easier to leave it off any "essential Misty Knight reading" list.

How Miles met Carnage, the extended cut. It doesn't expand much on Absolute Carnage #2 and the visuals are dreadfully sketchy. Miles sounds nicely consistent with his current solo, though -- the benefit of getting Saladin Ahmed to script this.

The bit of Carnage driving Miles gets blindsided by the unexpectedly rebellious spirit of the flesh when it's sent on a hunt. Neat logic on the hunt plot (I love the guest stars) and some interesting character work on possessed Miles make this well worth reading. The art is trending the other way, though. The Carnages are far too interchangeable.

I know virtually nothing about Donna Diego or Patricia Robinson, but I think the more I did know, the less I'd like these feeble revivals.

If the art were done by a single artist -- or a pair that matched up better than these two -- that might have done just enough to boost this up out of mediocrity.

Per his standard MO, Cullen Bunn crafts a story that will be satisfying if you're already a fan of the characters and stultifying if you're not. Gerardo Sandoval's art is impressive if you accept the "awesome x-treme" premises of his style -- but that's a big "if."

There are two different Kamala Khans. This comic stars the cartoony, multimedia-friendly, Marvel Rising Kamala, and it's a pretty good adventure for her. But I much prefer the other Kamala, the nuanced, thoughtful one scripted by Wilson or Ahmed, and she's not much in evidence here. And so help me, the artists get dangerously close to drawing (and ESPECIALLY coloring) Kamala as a white girl.

I liked this more than most readers, I think, but I recognize it's a pretty dumb idea to present an alternate take on Venom (visually and narratively) while he's in the middle of a definitive run. I'm a fan of Lady Hellbender, but these strips develop her poorly, hanging clichéd choices and motivations on a character that could be so much more.

A good rendition of Deadpool squares up with Nightmare to save a boy from bad dreams. It's got solid humor, good art, and a nice edge of darkness to make it feel serious. Like the other "Acts of Evil" annuals, it's thoroughly non-essential, but this one does make for a satisfying read.

There's not a lot here that's distinctively "She-Hulk;" this story would work just about as well with any hero. (There's some faint attention paid to split personality themes, but they'd fit anyone with any sort of alter ego.)

Ghost-Spider falls into an automated Murderworld built to torment 616 Spidey. It's a premise studded with lots of potential ironies, and Vita Ayala swings for the fences on every one. Not every swing connects, but many do. Gwen goes on a sound philosophical journey, and her voice is overall very appealing. Some nice character rendering work in the art is also a big plus.

I do like my Kang in a one-and-done story rather than menacing the Avengers over the course of six months. The faster the story, the fewer the chances for me to pick at the holes in the timey-wimey plot, I think. This is a satisfying yarn. Giving a character lots of historic legacy incarnations is risky, but Moon Knight is a better candidate for the idea than most. Solid art makes the time-hopping appealing. One unfortunate weakness is the characterization, or lack thereof, on Moon Knight. He's less a man here than a mission in the shape of a man.

It has a curious kind of magic. The laconic words and fair art pull you steadily through the story, more than average entertained. But then you get to the finale and it all evaporates like dew, with little chance of sticking in your memory.

Seems like both strips have pacing problems. Even with an above-average share of pages, this feels like less than an issue's worth of story.

The B strip suddenly has to carry the A strip and it ain't really up to the task.

Somebody oughtta tell Zhou Liefen that "withhold anything interesting from your story until the climax" is not how you build tension. But then, I've seen readers of the Chinese version suggest that Greg Pak should get a large share of the blame for the disappointing pace of this translation. Apparently, the original didn't put the contemporary story on hold for these jarring flashbacks.

In this installment, in both strips, the storytelling tightens up a bit. I still think this title's short of compelling reasons to read, but if you can find that motivation somewhere else, this comic won't disappoint.

The letters page reveals that the fans are still all agog over representation. That casts the series' storytelling foibles in a different light. These strips might be nothing special to majority readers who've seen these beats done better elsewhere, but they're hugely important to readers who rarely -- maybe never -- see protagonist superheroes who look and talk like them.

There are solid nuggets of intelligence and charm scattered through the slow-moving story. Keng's art puts a noteworthy polish on top of straightforward manga-style lines.

Ling gets some prehistoric backstory from Madame Huang and completes a nifty "air-golem" training session with her. There are compelling ideas in here and the art is good, but the words are pretty clumsy. This title's timeline remains completely ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️, too. Making those first three issues a flash-forward and then framing everything that's come since as a flashback was a big mistake.

Aero uses her new wind-doppelganger powers to win a crystal monster fight without leaving her boyfriend's side. There's some nice heart in the relationship, both in the present and in their meet-cute flashback. But the contemporary story remains tremendously drawn out, and the plot isn't engaging enough to justify the slow pace.

Ling and Tony Stark meet, but we'll have to wait another issue to see Aero and Iron Man. Ugh. Madame Huang provides intriguing backstory tidbits that finally start to stitch together the title's mythology. It's still an annoying maze of different timelines, all unfolding too slow and too distant from each other. At least the visuals are still pretty.

"That's right, Iron Man! The secret to beating the tower monsters is a vital detail my creators never thought to show or mention until now!" Ugggh.

Out with a whimper, not a bang. The storytelling was nice in this issue and I even felt that Aero got some good characterization -- but as throughout the series, pacing and plotting are fundamentally flawed. This isn't a Western superhero comic, and chopping it into 20-page chunks didn't fix that.

Nate Grey leads the X-Men in defending a "utopia" with sinister goings-on bubbling just beneath the surface. I like the style; the peaceful life has a 1950s Leave-it-to-Beaver vibe while the dark side points to majorly messed-up social control a la 70s sci-fi movies. I find the world-building ideas intriguing and engaging; they provide just the boost that the storytelling chops need.

This finale has the same problems as the event as a whole: It's a mystery story without any secrets, a revolution story without conflict. Ambitious and experimental, sure. Successful? Not so much.

This issue introduces Apocalypse and his merry band of revolutionaries and puts them on a collision course with Omega Red. The tone of the book is an interesting mystical hodge-podge that combines beatniks, psychedelic hippies, and even a little slice of Sufism. Apocalypse stands apart from most other AoX mutants. He doesn't just get a mindwipe and a change of clothes; he appears to have been merged with Professor X. I hope that point's expanded on in future issues.

This series wants to be AoX: The Invisibles in a very serious way. But it also wants to be "Jim Henson's Invisibles Babies" in some mad parallel reality where the Invisibles is appropriate for Saturday morning cartoons.

The amount of teleporting in this book is too damn high.

It's a bag of solid premises that deserve far better storytelling in words and art.

Like the miniseries as a whole, this finale has some smart ideas sticking out of a storytelling matrix that consistently comes across as a little sub-par.

The standard current crop of X-students illuminates life at the Summers Institute: simplistic curricula, utopian outlook, dystopian secrets. It's the most effective vehicle yet for exploring X-Man's AU. The plot is engaging and the character work is sound, but it does rely on the reader arriving well-caught-up on X-students and the Age of X-Man event. It doesn't stand on its own two legs, but as a part of a wider tapestry, it's very good.

Glob reveals he's immune to all the mind-wiping that underpins the Age of X-Man, putting him in a perfect position to watch it crumble. And the rebellious students are delivering the violent attack on the system that I crave. It's excellent writing work and it looks gorgeous; Nextgen is well on its way to being my favorite part of AoX.

The students make and break alliances and Armor comes to the fore as the protagonist. Thoroughly engaging plot and art, and I really like the way the dialogue does good characterization while simultaneously exploring intriguing ideas about the AU.

Anole pushes his sect's agenda to a scary result, with his school friends just a little too far behind him and the authorities bringing up the rear. Interesting ideas, solid art, and an excellent pace. Yet somehow the prose, while clear, fails to evoke an emotional connection or a sense of urgency -- and the latter particularly seems needed.

While Glob retains his memory of everything that's changed in the AoX, his attempts to share his insights with his friends end in tragedy. It's an excellent story and it enjoys some surprisingly strong art, but the script could do more to fulfill the sad ending's emotional potential.

Bishop settles into the Danger Room prison and concentrates - when he's not fighting with Beast - on figuring out whether his little flashes of pre-AoX memory are rare or common. It looks like the setup has plenty of promise, and I am delighted to get past the shiny happy surface of this world. But the focus of the title shines more on the memory mysteries than exploring AoX's morals and laws in depth. It makes good sense from a storytelling standpoint, but it leaves my hunger for unraveling the bigger mysteries of the AU unsatisfied.

Proof (by negative example, unfortunately) that laying a caption-only conversation on top of an unrelated mostly-visual story is a lot harder than it looks.

Why I'm rating low: 1) We're watching Bishop deduce his way to facts we've known since the start of the event. The script does virtually nothing to alleviate the sense of "we seent it" inconsequentiality that this induces. 2) The art stumbles badly. Character treatments vary too widely between the artists, the visual flow of the story is often unclear, and the art doesn't do nearly enough with the script's opportunities for spectacle. The script writes a giant check by introducing the idea of each prisoner seeing the prison as a dungeon tailored to their fears; the art cashes that check for pennies on the dollar with a few panels of forgettable lip-service.

Meggan morphs her boobs bigger when she's on-camera, tee-hee. It's a clever gag. But along with the way these X-Men can't stay out of each other's pants, it suggests somebody built this Brave New World without really thinking through the implications of its "no sex please" prime directive. I'm once again hoping that it's Nate's world-building that's shoddy, but the thought that maybe it's the creators' instead is starting to fester. Maybe the real problem is reading *four* shiny-happy #1s in a row, all of which are keeping the same damn secrets. Maybe it's reading week-by-week that's frustrating me, and it'll all come across better when I can charge straight through the completed titles. And maybe, alas, the problem is that this event just isn't as carefully crafted as I want it to be.

Kurt starts shame-spiraling after getting laid. The way his guilt sways his decision-making toward the tragic lends some sorely-needed weight to the studio takeover plot. The idea of an underground romance culture is fascinating, too. The visuals are roundly satisfying with some real flashes of brilliance. The reading experience here was a lot more engaging than I expected; it was a surprise of the best sort.

I know we're in the middle of a Big Dumb Event™ with loads of editorial oversight and big-picture planning and whatnot, but I STILL wish this series could actually go "Oh, snap, the Cuckoos are WAY more interesting than Kurt in this AU situation, let's follow them now."

This mini and Nextgen stand apart from the other AoX series in that they work better as "prequels" that end before the AU starts unraveling. Of the two, I much prefer the school story. This series added "Cuckoos secretly in on the conspiracy" to its basic "movie star Kurt" premise, but it never got enough tension going between them. This last issue is particularly bad about the two ideas nervously eyeing each other like shy kids at a middle-school dance, doing a whole lot of not much until Kurt makes a Mk. 1 heroic sacrifice to provide a little closure.

The forest fire premise isn't all that interesting by itself, but it illustrates a hefty flaw in the AU. This world is so perfect that these 8 X-Men are the only first responders on the whole continent? I'll assume that the flaws are in Nate's world-building rather than the authors'.

This issue looks far better than it deserves; Marco Failla really went the extra mile on the art. Nate loading up his narration with a bunch of storytelling metaphors felt terribly lazy.

Argh! I was really hoping the X-Tremists would be the sinister Gestapo-type team, as was so strongly suggested by the other titles and even by their costume designs. But no, it's another pack of shiny happy goofball mutants. I could swallow the team being portrayed as naive and childish if it were done *well*, but in my opinion, it very much is not.

Department X's fluffy status quo is disturbed when Blob confesses a crush and Moneta veers way too close to evil territory. Some of the prose and characterization simply blows me away, but the scattershot plot development disagrees with me. I'm not in love with the story but I do love the way it's being told. Strategically, I think I'm going to end up strongly against the idea of inventing a brand new mutant (Moneta) to take all the morally-dodgy stances in this title. How much more gripping it would be if it were Jubilee or Psylocke going off the deep end!

Psylocke does a fascinating job of stringing her Blob relationship along, allowing Department X to lumber forward in a semblance of "business as usual." At least until Moneta's black-and-white worldview forces some severe changes. I'm a fan of the art and I really enjoy the psychological, exploratory way the script handles Betsy and Fred. But the pacing and the plotting are pretty jumbled. Rather than achieving a uniform "good," I think this script is a half-and-half mix of "great" and "blah". Challenging to rate and definitely a book you think twice about before recommending to a friend.

I'm going with a ridiculously high rating because Leah Williams' rendition of Jubilee gave me those all-over hot-cold shivers that say I'm reading something profound. Let that woman write a Jubilee solo immediately! Beyond (or rather through) the characterization, this issue also delivers the EXACT mix of nausea, shame, outrage, and fury that SHOULD follow the breakdown of the AoX masquerade. This mini wasn't where I was expecting to find the big payoff, but I'm grateful I got it.

Amadeus fills up all the non-plot space fretting about the burden of leadership and crushing on Luna Snow, ugh. In the B strip, the old Agents roster runs through a pulpier, more satisfying dragon fight. The big picture plot is intriguing, but the backup creators really beat the lead team's brains out when it comes to vibrant art and endearing ensemble characterization.

I love Nico Leon, but I don't think he fits with this creative team. His art needs color depth that Federico Blee doesn't provide, and I suspect the scripting actively plays against his (Leon's) strengths. Also, Mike Nguyen's price point for the Pan Pass is absurd. $1,000 a day is over a third of a million dollars a year. For a sci-fi metro card. It's exactly like when evil Axis-transreversed Tony Stark tried selling Extremis to the public at a similarly ruinous price. Characters treating these gimmicks as egalitarian when they're priced exclusively for the one percent instantly brings a heavy hammer down on my suspension of disbelief.

I KNOW it's harder than it looks to craft characters with this minimalist art style, but the results turn me off.

I appreciated the greater sharing of the spotlight around the team and the intelligent evolution of the logical problems inherent in the Pan premise. Also, the art is REALLY working for me this time around.

It took ages of pages and a mountain of words to get here, but dang, here is awfully nice. I've become a convert to the art, too, which again shows off complete mastery of minimalism.

The Guardians are doing teeth-clenched teamwork and getting caught up in a Grandmaster/Collector dispute; not a healthy place to be. Even though the Guardians have only been out of publication for a half an eyeblink, Gerry Duggan throws a lot of twists into the team. Gamora's made a creepy deal with the Grandmaster, Groot got baby-fied, and Drax is a pacifist now. Also Peter stole the Milano out of the MCU. The author's clever heist plotting, solid ear for dialogue, and strong characterization suggest he'll have no trouble cashing all (or most of) the checks he's writing. Though I can tell Aaron Kuder's art is going to be an acquired taste, I think I'm already well on the way to acquiring it.

The Guardians' heist from the Collector's Fortress o' Pop Culture goes predictably awry. Gerry Duggan is working hard to script two issues' worth of quality characterization and dialogue every month. He's doing good with that, but he doesn't seem to have the time to get really creative with his plot. Similarly, Aaron Kuder is drawing stunningly good, inventively weird stuff - 40 pages' worth in a month. So it's fair if he goes a little heavy on the splash pages to keep his panel count down. I'm still waiting for the creators to start answering some of the great questions they posed last month. A reheated Hollywood heist story is only gonna satisfy for so long.

Gamora's dreams reveal her quest is tracking down the Soul Gem, which still has a piece of her stuck inside it. Some solid links to decades-old Guardians backstory make this a treat for hardcore fans, and they point to interesting things in the future. Resurrections? Oh, could be, could be. Frazier Irving's painterly art is occasionally beautiful, but it definitely has its drawbacks. Even after internet research tells me there's a peek at Eternity-in-Chains in this issue (from Ewing's Ultimates 2), I still can't see it. While this issue didn't end up exciting me, I can respect it as nice long-term storytelling and see that it loads up some great payoffs for the future.

The Guardians escape the Collector thanks to Rocket's cunning and Gamora's bravado. High adventure beckons, but of course it wouldn't be the Guardians if the team weren't on the edge of breaking up. Nobody's pleased to be used as a means to an end by Gamora, who's orchestrating all this to get at the Soul Stone, and there's even a rift forming between Rocket and Groot. And we still don't know who's growing a sinister crop of evil Groots or what he (?) plans on doing with them. Great plotting and challenging characterization put this up above the realm of average comics, and Aaron Kuder's stellar art helps a great deal.

Peter Quill gets his music by chasing down lightspeed Earth broadcasts and recording them on cassette. There's this guy on Reddit, hates everything that's happened to Star-Lord since Abnett & Lanning killed him. *Really* hates MCU synergy. He's way past reason and logic; his instinctive antipathy makes him incapable of liking any current Guardians comic. Don't be like Reddit Guy. In this issue Gerry Duggan proves that, like Chip Zdarsky, he can absolutely make "Chris Pratt-edition Star-Lord" work. Is this Star-Lord less grizzled than the DnA version? Sure. But he's also got heart and sensitivity in a way that DnA's Frowny-Face McGee didn't. Add in some misplaced (i.e. clashing with Mr. Kuder's work) but undeniably gorgeous Chris Samnee art and you've got a real best-case scenario for a filler issue. It's not plot essential, you could skip it if you had to, but it's so wonderfully heartwarming that you'll be glad you didn't.

The Raptors come calling for the ship the Guardians stole, or more precisely, a precious bit of cargo. They set off a nice zero-gee fight and throw some impressive twists into the plot, and the Guardians are well worth following throughout. We get another glimpse of the mystery man who's raised of crop of evil Groots, and some tempting hints about the identity of boss-Raptor Talonar pop up too. Aaron Kuder's art makes it all look good, and Gerry Duggan's script provides a lot of fun at a slightly-too-fast pace. Or is the title a little too slow due to the sheer number of moving parts being introduced?

Gamora listens to the story behind Drax's pacifism. It's an episode in which Drax is forced to confront the consequences of his actions. While you might find this particular straw a little light for breaking the Destroyer's back, I think you'll probably agree the man's reaction - "no violence forevermore" - is *very* Drax. The strong script is further enhanced by a flawless visual performance from Greg Smallwood. While the layouts are pretty simple, the anatomy and facial work are as good as - if not better than - Mr. Smallwood's recent tour de force performance in Moon Knight.

Quill fights Talonar, putting it all on the line to save Rocket. The fighting is solid and even while he's being poisoned to death, Rocket drops some funny jokes. Marcus To's art does an excellent job filling in. Gerry Duggan's script employs a few sneaky tricks to dodge complicated situations, but his judgement regarding what gets put on the page is excellent. How are you doing with Talonar's mystery identity? There are enough clues here to nail it, but not so many as to make it a certainty.

A Rocket and Groot flashback reveals who it is that's been raising Evil Groots in the present-day timeline. Mojo also appears and leaps onto the already way-too-large pile of "problems to address in the future." This issue landed right in the 7/10 zone: A bit above average but definitely not great. Mike Hawthorne's generic space visuals are workmanlike. The sheer volume of plot threads Gerry Duggan is introducing may be a problem, especially with his preferred flashback-heavy structure. There's a limited amount of focus to go around and dicing it up evenly so that every plot gets a pittance of panels instead of pushing through real progress on a single story is robbing this title of momentum.

Bringing the Collector/Grandmaster conflict to a head actually serves to tie up all of the title's big plot lines and fire the team off with renewed clarity of purpose. It might be exposition heavy, but this is *exactly* what this title needed. Gerry Duggan loads the script with imaginative ideas and a fair bit of cheesy humor and Aaron Kuder illustrates it all with commendable style. The contents aren't *quite* as trippy as the surrealist masterpiece on the cover, but they're close - in a good way.

We get a sneak peek at Talon-R's secret identity, and who's that a step or two behind us on the discovery trail? Why, it's Richard Rider! Woo woo! While the most die-hard DnA fans might not be satisfied with this issue's continuity performance, it tells a damn fine story and does it well. Roland Boschi's art has a very personal and very skilled style that makes the comic that much more enjoyable. Gerry Duggan's decision to make his Guardians title a sort of Cosmic Marvel Survey doesn't always work out, but here it's doing a great job of fleshing out the world around the Guardians. But it shouldn't be overlooked - this issue does not contain any Guardians of the Galaxy whatsoever.

The Guardians canvass Earth for Infinity Leads and get a surprise recruit instead. Two big drawbacks here: First, after narrowing down the plot threads with a "we can do X, Y, or Z" choice in #10, Gerry Duggan jumps to "we're gonna do X AND Z whether you like it or not!" Might cause pacing problems. Second, *why* would you preface all your cool Earth-hero interactions with a notice that you left the *coolest* ones - Star-Lord meets Infamous Iron Doom and Rocket Raccoon meets Black Panther - on the cutting room floor? There's plenty of fun in this Earth Layover and Rod Reis's painterly visuals make it look very pretty. Moments of sketchiness reveal that the art, like the script, is at a "really good, but could clearly be better" level.

A quest for a shield-busting superweapon ends up being a wild goose chase and a gooey team-building exercise. The Guardians get fired out of the Secret Empire mess into a weird liminal space between the proper Marvel universe and the MCU. A mostly-MCU Mantis sends them to team up with a totally-MCU Yondu. The quest ends up pointless, of course, but writers Chad Bowers & Chris Sims load their script with a modest dose of snarky humor that softens the issue's frustration. Danilo Beyruth, patron saint of "good enough" indie-style artists, is on board to make the visuals respectable if not memorable, and the whole story slides smoothly in one ear and out the other.

Gabby cures Laura's trigger scent conditioning with a little help from Jean Grey. There's a beautiful extended Pinocchio reference going on and with better art, this could have been a comic for the ages. Djibril Morissette-Phan does a decent job but also effectively closes the door to true epic-ness.

Laura orchestrates a triumphant conclusion to the long story of Kimura vs. X-23. Nik Virella's work pulls this issue down. The lack of expressiveness actively undercuts the very dramatic script. I've seen her do good work - her Hyperion series was excellent - but this looks inexcusably shabby. Tom Taylor's script is full of great character work, dramatic twists, and a fair splash of humor. All of which is robbed of its impact by this art. SECOND THOUGHTS: To be clear, I don't blame Nik Virella for this issue's limitations. Whatever editor waved an insultingly small check out the Bullpen window and said "Who wants to put a key issue of Wolverine on their resume with a quick two-week hack job?" betrayed this comic and significantly reduced the quality of the finished product.

A full-on Laura/Gabby covert op gets interrupted by the start of a desperate plague with a sinister Wolverine connection. Two nicely-entwined storylines introduce a lot of cool new stuff: An X-Force-inspired costume for Laura, Gabby as a field agent, a decent Ironheart cameo, a callback to the human traffickers from issue #15, and an ominous new threat in the form of a space virus. The plots are intriguing and blended together with great skill, and Leonard Kirk's solid (albeit not brilliant) art is *extremely* welcome. Gabby is settling into her role as a comic relief sidekick, but besides being excellent at that she's also quite the little ass-kicker. This is a hugely promising opening for a new story arc.

Laura may be the only hope of survival for Roosevelt Island thanks to her surprising virus-busting ability. It's a fun, fast ride. The plotting and the science underneath it don't hold up to careful examination, and artist Leonard Kirk reveals that emotional women's faces are his Kryptonite. Aside from those weaknesses, we get a pretty brilliant Wolverine adventure that flawlessly integrates Gabby into Laura's heroing business. Their interactions are a treat, and Ironheart continues to play a small but awesome role.

An all-star Wolverine team-up squad saves Roosevelt Island - but what does it cost Laura? This is a paradoxical issue. It's incredibly busy when it comes to guest stars, but it's pretty simple in its plot. There's tons of dialogue, but it's almost all gold and it doesn't feel overstuffed. The overdose of technobabble from previous issues is blessedly absent here. There's real heart in the relationships and in Laura herself. Leonard Kirk's simple art might be the weakest part of the package, and it's not at all weak. This is that rare issue that functions both as a payoff for fans who have already fallen in love with the series and as a tool to win new devotees.

Wolverine hitches a ride to space with the Guardians of the Galaxy. And Gabby and Jonathan are coming too. Putting Ms. Positivity 2017 Gabby Kinney into chummy scenes with first Deadpool and then Groot nearly results in cuteness overload. There's a notably great sci-fi adventure shaping up alongside Gabby's hilariousness, and the creators do a nice job of following directly from the last story arc while also giving this one a distinct flavor of its own. Both Tom Taylor and Leonard Kirk prove to be outstanding at portraying the Guardians. The only real fault of this fast, funny interstellar roadtrip is that we only get to read 19 pages of it this month.

The Wolverines In Space story slams on the brakes as Fang delivers a expo-dump that does a serviceable-at-best job of explaining the virus plot. Gabby is socked into Bad Stuff in the cliffhanger ending. To fill space up to that point, besides exposition, Tom Taylor packs his script with "lookit how good I can write the All-New Guardians." It's entertaining, but when combined with some rough art by Leonard Kirk, it makes this issue look like a bit of a weak link in the current arc.

Gabby gets saved along with everybody except the evil bioweapon scientist who caused this whole Brood mess. Everything wraps up so neat and so quick! Some rushed-looking art from Leonard Kirk reinforces the feeling that this arc didn't fulfill its potential. There aren't any fall-out-of-love missteps, but this story presumes on its readers' preexisting love - if you haven't made a conscious decision to follow these Wolverines, this arc dang sure won't convince you to do so.

Daken gets worked by a new enemy gunning for Laura. A questionable twist ending sours an otherwise stellar script. On the art front, too, Jaunn Cabal's otherwise-excellent visuals (like a stripped-down Frank Quitely in a wholly positive way) are slightly spoiled by disappointing facial expressions. On balance, these aren't crippling shortcomings. They pull this book down from "epic" to "great," not into the depths of "unsatisfying."

Daken escapes and we get our first look at Sarah Kinney; something's very hinky with her resurrection, ah-duh. This is a pretty great story, but it's inescapably fictional, a story being built by a storyteller. What do I mean? Laura and Sarah probably had some mighty emotional things to say to each other in between #25 & #26. Those interactions were important to the characters *but didn't fit the story,* so we skipped them. That's a little unsatisfying. Juann Cabal's art, like the script, is undeniably talented but also stalled a step or two below greatness. The Daken action scenes reveal that capturing characters in motion is a struggle for Mr. Cabal. He does use inventive panel layouts to compensate. This is a top-notch popcorn comic, but the depth required for truly moving storytelling is MIA.

The Orphans of X at last have their Deal explained: They're surviving relatives of the folks Wolverine and his descendants have killed, and they're nursing a mighty grudge. Solid art and a rational plot can't quite overcome the cold, clinical way the characters are presented here. Everyone is too much an actor on a stage, going through the motions because the plot demands "X" regardless of how they might feel if examined more humanely. The Orphans are a little too straightforward and the conclusion of this arc - duh, Laura's gonna wind up hugging it out and defusing this conflict diplomatically - is a little too obvious.

The Orphans put magic Wolverine-killing bullets into play, so Laura and pals head to Japan to score some as-yet ill-defined anti-magic mojo off of Muramasa. Tom Taylor drops a cheap Fatality Fakeout at the end of this script which really just emphasizes how the plot is evolving by rote. Juann Cabal's art is clean and shiny and stiff. It tells the story but doesn't draw any positive attention. On the good side, Gabby is back to full force as comic relief, and in this issue Daken bestows the Bestest Codename Ever on her.

Daken sacrifices himself very temporarily to allow Laura and Gabby to find the Orphans. Laura debuts her magic Muramasa armor; looks rather meh. Hand ninjas play a significant role, but Tom Taylor sands some of the stupid off their arrival by putting a clever twist into the later Hand scenes. Juann Cabal is again the Rob Liefeld to Frank Quitely's Jim Lee. The overall quality differential isn't as extreme, but this relationship has the same narrowing of the gap between drawbacks and strengths. Stiff poses and weak layouts, not fully redeemed by super-detailed character work.

Laura brings the Orphans of X story to a close with a satisfying twist on her "I refuse to be a weapon" theme. While revealing the Orphans as a frustrated support group works with that theme, it doesn't reconcile all that well with their previous portrayal: Global reach, attack helicopters, hordes of special ops goons. The road to get here was mighty bumpy, but I like where we've ended up.

Deadpool guest-stars in a cutesy assault on the evil animal testing lab that Jonathan the Actual Wolverine came from. It's silly, the artwork is slightly rough, and the whimsy has a counter-productive feeling of being forced. Still, you're fundamentally misreading this series if you expect the sentence "Honey Badger and Deadpool …" to have a non-comedic ending. This issue gives me a good reason to bust out a rare fractional rating. I think an 8.5 respects this comic's close approach to whimsical greatness while also recognizing that it's held back by contrivance.

Laura fulfills her promise to the Orphans of X by personally extraditing the neo-Nazi scumbag who commissioned her first assassination. It's a nice follow-up, a decent character study, a tough caper story, and an all-around stylish one-shot. The art style is indie-minimalist, and it works tremendously well. While #32 appears to be the darker, more serious reflection of the wacky #31, there's actually quite a bit of sardonic humor to be found.

Old Woman Laura lives in a very shiny happily-ever-after future, but of course, she has One Last Mission to complete. Gabby does a star turn as Future-Wolverine and the script delivers plenty of fanservice-y surprises. The art has a mostly-successful, streamlined Frank Quitely feel. The futuristic design work - costumes and settings and gear - feels like the weak link in the presentation; while some of the facts of the OWL future will stick with me, none of the visuals will. This story's full of promise for the final installments, though, and this initial issue is more than satisfying.

The betrayal twist of the previous issue turns out to be a fakeout. Never fear, there's plenty of melodrama waiting inside Latveria. The cast expands with a few more guest stars. Unfortunately, the design budget apparently ran out, and the artist has to start recycling his already-shallow pool of "this is the future" cues - white hair, streamlined uniforms, Tron lights, yadda yadda. The plot is likewise assembled on the cheap. I have to stress that this is melodrama rather than drama: The characters get only the broadest of broad strokes and the plot develops in terribly predictable ways. I enjoyed this and consider it a good comic, but it didn't live up to the title's usual standards of passion and ingenuity.

Laura and Doom have their Final Showdown of Destiny. There's nothing wrong with the way the story is executed, it's just punishingly straightforward. I'm rating this up because I love the characters and nothing is done here to strain that love, but I have an overpowering feeling that the creators are relying too much on that sort of reception. This story closes in a very by-the-numbers fashion; while it doesn't disappoint, it does land hollowly in a space where a much bigger, bolder finale could have/should have fit.

Getting hag-ridden by Mosaic lets Teen Cyclops see what really happened to his old self. Emma Frost is in trouble now! It's a pretty solid character study of poor Teenclops and his social predicaments. I really, *really* hope that the plot points shown here - i.e. Mosaic causing havoc with the X-Men - are picked up in the main event. Most of Mr. Bagley's art is excellent, though he doesn't draw a convincingly mature Medusa.

Hank closes the volume by explicitly demonstrating the O5 team can't go back to the Silver Age. I think we already knew that, but it's nice to have certainty. The team celebrates its run with a dance party. Hank wanted to do baseball, but the Extraordinary X-Men played that card last week. It's a pretty quiet issue writing-wise, but Paco Diaz's art is quite a treat. It's a solid match for Mark Bagley's work with a distinctive spin of its own.

The ANX team beats up a crawfish monster in New Orleans. Yes, during Mardi Gras. Since I lived in New Orleans for a decade, let me assure you that yes, the city receives the same erratic "who's that supposed to be?" mis-characterization in this comic as the X-Men do. Warren and Bobby are drawn interchangeably and I have no idea who the green-eyed chubster standing in for Hank is. The gents are just background padding, really, since this story is primarily about Wolverine and Gambit exulting over how awesome Wolverine is. Jeremy Whitley slavering over the chance to write a "strong" female character, what a surprise. It's a decent story but the countless erroneous details make it aggressively forgettable - even if you're not nitpicking the Carnival celebrations.

Great, what I didn't like about Jason Aaron's Avengers was that it was too quiet and it made too much sense. /s

This issue goes down a lot smoother than the last one for me. There are several reasons for that. Mainly it's a relief that the author isn't dragging any more pet characters out of comics limbo. Stronger hints about an overarching plot help, too. And the art is even close to tolerable (subjectively speaking). The fewer Greg Land faces I see, the less irritated I get, and there were plenty of masks in play here.

It's nice that, 3 issues in, the protagonists are finally starting to get a feel for the bigger story. Unfortunately, the single-issue adventures remain dull and unengaging. A lot of that is down to the sterile art -- but the author certainly isn't helping by lining up 2 "we have to team up with a villain" stories in a row. (That choice will probably turn out to have some bigger meaning, but still.)

I get that the "in media res" start is half the premise here, but this issue really shows its limitations. The other half of the premise is non-stop action at a breakneck pace, and that's really hampered when the script is larded down with pointless exposition detailing a status quo that has zero import outside the issue itself.

While the "Spidey vs. Avengers" set-piece is pretty nicely scripted, on balance, I don't appreciate going through 5 issues of Greg Land to reach an "I told you that story to set up this other story" payoff. Subjectively, the twist is unengaging, unbelievable, and doesn't have a prayer of justifying what's come before.

This one-shot has a nicely consistent theme; each strip is, in its own way, about heritage and family.

WW2 Cap, Silver Age Spidey, and teen Red Room Black Widow all get yoinked into a generic (but engaging!) fantasyland. The story has promise and succeeds in sinking some "what happens next?" hooks in me. The art is good, but I confess I like the origin segments (particularly Black Widow's) even more than the unified "fantasyland" style. And I'm a little worried by the focus; Cap gets twice as many pages as the other heroes and he is, in my opinion, the least interesting of them. Plus his initial scenes feature some atrocious writing.

Pete earns a smooch by manfully lassoing a dragon, Steve starts teaching the lost art of manliness to a tribe that's shamefully purged its men, and Natasha, after kicking a little ass, settles into a love triangle between a pretty-boy king and a rugged centaur. Good art. Clunky prose, clumsy plotting. Painful characterization, world-building, and gender roles -- this replicates some of the worst aspects of the early 20th-century pulp fantasy it's emulating, without irony or self-awareness. Devil's Advocate: It is just possible that the creator intends to subvert the cliches that so riled me. But this comic doesn't do much to raise my hopes on that score.

I feel like the kid pointing out the nakedness of the emperor. This story is blah characters being flung into conflict for unexplained reasons, illustrated in a sketchy "not bad but nothing special" style. What am I missing? I'm sure there's some cryptic big-picture plot that will eventually explain everything, and doubtless some big dumb villain the heroes will have to team up against. But I'm starving for hints of it. Kaare Andrews is stingier with plot clarifications than Tini Howard, and I didn't think that was possible.

I found the journey to this point a torturous slog, but now the destination is in sight. And dammit, I think the destination looks pretty good. I refuse to overlook the many continuing lapses in storytelling, particularly in the writing, but teaming the heroes up against a recognizable villain to foil makes a world of difference.

I found it a decent ending and the shape of the whole story is at least potentially workable. Subjectively, though, this just wasn't executed well enough -- in this last chapter or at any other point -- to make me call it great, good, or even average. The art has some nice cartoony dynamism, but it doesn't handle visual storytelling well. The script isn't such a hot storytelling tool either, delivering a lot of clunky and/or cliched lines. No matter how much melodrama goes down, a "reset button" ending isn't all that satisfying. It does show some nice respect for the title's history to make it all about Peter Parker in the end, though.

Gaiman is in full "saccharine but heartwarming" mode as only he can do it, and Hickman proves he can do a solid, funny self-parody. Those were the standouts for me. It's much better than the average anthology, but there are still some clunkers in there. Marvel really pried open its wallet for the art budget, though; this is (almost entirely) gorgeous.

This comic spends so much time winking at the camera that "plot" becomes an afterthought. I'm coming to believe that that's Leah Williams' signature shtick, and I don't care for it. You can't do a meaningful deconstruction of a story if you're too preoccupied to tell a story in the first place.

I still think this series is caught between trying to do a sincere melodrama and trying to satirize one at the same time. It doesn't help that the "Hollywood backlot intrigue" genre is way, WAY harder than it looks. And I think the key criticism raised in the Weird Science review deserves more attention: After MJ complained last issue about her movie character being a mere satellite to the male protagonist, she spends this entire issue orbiting Mysterio. While it might be possible to earn some irony points off the juxtaposition, I don't think this script actually does anything along those lines.

This issue is a solid "silly movie set shenanigans" montage, and it mercifully restores agency to MJ and gets her a little further out of Mysterio's orbit. But nothing in this or the prior issues gives me much confidence in the second half's ability to deliver a cohesive, satisfying conclusion.

This comic's art is nicely refined, but it's a bit too much of a throwback to the "pose every woman in every panel in a cheesecake-y way; it's not like we've got female readers" days.

Mary Jane defeats the Savage Six in hand-to-hand combat, practically by herself, which is fundamentally unbelievable. The writing's decent and the art is pretty good, but they can't overcome the overreach of the core concept. I'm all for girl power, but not when it's demonstrated in such simplistic terms that it's essentially "she has two X chromosomes therefore she wins." Also, separate from any gender issues, the dialogue gets TERRIBLY didactic when it lays out exactly how the characters have developed. And that cover. Yikes.

Mary Jane's publicity work for the movie is complicated by the arrival of the real Cage McKnight -- and an assassin who appears to be targeting her. There's a decent slate of artists on board (though the stylistic differences are distracting) and there's a solid plot-skeleton in the script. The pace is disjointed, though, and the dialogue tends to take wrong turns.

"How We Survived the Zombie Clone Apocalypse, by Doc Ock and Ben Reilly." I wonder if these resurrections carry special weight for folks who are more invested in the characters. Ben Reilly is out and about in the Marvel universe again whether or not I love him. So is Doc Ock, and I am jazzed about that. This issue, which is slanted 90/10 toward Ben's story, didn't do a lot to help me fall in love with Ben Reilly. That's this event in a nutshell: Just a Thing That Happened without any real impact on my understanding of / appreciation for Spider-history. I think that's far short of what the creators were hoping for.

Spidey is so focused on chasing Osborn that he barely notices PI falling apart. He still has time to start laying romantic tracks toward Bobbi Morse, though. So, the double-sized A-story isn't that bad. It's really a good 20-pager stretched out into 40 flabby pages, but whatever. It's followed by six backups: An introduction to the Hydrated Superior Doc Ock, redundant "PI is really really in trouble" stories, and a selection of cutesy "maybe I'd 'like' if somebody shared this on social media" cartoons. Plus a ☠☠☠☠ Tsum Tsum tie-in. Marvel had the gall to ask LCS customers to pay $10 for this immediately after abusing their Spider-budgets with an underwhelming crossover event. I'm insulated from pricing outrages by reading through MU, but this is not ☠☠☠☠ okay. I'm betting the title lost some readers over this nonsense, and if so, Marvel absolutely deserved it.

Spidey and Silver Sable are going after Osborn and they don't care that the bad publicity is crippling PI and making them into enemies of SHIELD. Some splashy fighting accompanies the assembly of this arc's core conflict in the spirit of Star Wars Episode II: sound and fury distracting you from the simplicity of the narrative. It's entertaining and Stuart Immonen's visuals are delicious, but there's a frustrating shallowness to the whole exercise. This issue is a complex double-pass fake-out play that ends up moving the ball about three yards down the field.

The Stark-ification of Peter Parker is complete as he proves he literally has enough military hardware to take over a third-world country. Norman Osborn plays ball with his deranged nemesis by slipping into full-on Doctor Doom mode. This is a mad, juvenile, silly, stupid adventure that's granted a tiny shred of legitimacy by Stuart Immonen's superb art. Underneath the spectacle, though, Pete is acting ludicrously out-of-character. Why am I not disappointed? Because sometime in the near future, Pete will be hearing from the Spectacular Octopus, and the message is gonna be a horrifying "well done, Parker; I didn't think you had it in you."

Osborn engineers a half-brilliant no-powers boxing match with Spidey, but a freedom-enhanced Symkaria is the only big winner at the end of the day. For all the brilliance of the Spidey-Osborn showdown (and to reiterate, it's not that brilliant), the rest of this conflict plays out like a particularly uncreative Bond film. Mockingbird gets sidetracked with a Designated Science Hero mission and Silver Sable gets tied up in a Designated Girl Fight that truly has no place in a 21st-century comic. Wrap it all up with Nick Fury Jr. reading Pete the riot act with a ridiculously cliché "turn in your badge, you loose cannon!" vibe. Stuart Immonen makes it look very nice, but underneath the flashy visuals you've got a few feeble novelties awash in a sea of very tired tropes.

As the Hydra takeover starts, Doc Ock makes the event personal by revealing his intention to take Parker Industries away from Pete. Stuart Immonen gets to kick off two awesome fight scenes in superb style, but in both cases Dan Slott's script short-circuits the violence so that we can concentrate more on Pete getting verbally beaten up for being a bad Tony Stark analogue and on Doc Ock chowing down on a double helping of scenery. The balance of attention is a little frustrating, but the brewing plot for the Secret Empire tie-in looks mighty promising.

Before he Can Even with this Hydra mess, Spidey has to have a serious Shanghai showdown with Doc Ock for the soul of PI. Why didn't somebody grab the Parker Industries characters and Cloak & Dagger and do a Shanghai miniseries after Dan Slott set them up? Bits of this issue fall flat because they're begging us to care about the Shanghai folks and it just ain't gonna happen. Everything else here is working great, though. The visuals are impressive, as are the Secret Empire links and the burgeoning Bobbi romance. Mr. Slott is a bit indulgent with Doc Ock's gloating, but he's got his reasons: The details make it clear that he (the writer) has been planning this revenge for several years.

Peter cuts off his Parker Industries nose to spite Doc Ock's face. Which reminds me: Has Pete *really* not deduced that Ock is running around in a cloned Parker body? This issue has a wealth of dramatic plot developments and splashy big-budget visuals thanks to Stuart Immonen, but there's a slippery je ne sais quoi to Dan Slott's script that makes this issue, strong and revelatory as it is, feel like an under-achievement.

Norman Osborn takes center stage for a mystical flight of fancy. It's equal parts foreshadowing and "what if" episode, and being drawn by Greg Smallwood really nails down the sinister parallels to the last volume of Moon Knight. Dan Slott's script shows admirable economy, pushing a slender premise no further than it can endure and milking plenty of fun out of it. This is far from the last we'll see of Norman, but the mystical path shown here is wisely left as a road not taken.

Peter Parker's been kicked so far down that even Spider-Man is suffering through his association with that idiot ex-tech-billionaire. Dan Slott uses "Legacy" as a welcome excuse to refocus on Spider-Man's rich supporting cast in a hugely promising way. (Less promising: The inevitable feeling of "we've sung this song before" that even the characters have to acknowledge.) The Mockingbird relationship is playing well, too. Stuart Immonen's polished pencils provide the pizazz necessary to clinch this issue's spot at "well above average."

Spidey, Human Torch, and Clash have a big property-damaging fight in the Baxter Building. Harry is fed up and quits PI with all the reasonable justification in the world. This looks like another month where Dan Slott split one issue's worth of story into two issues, and #790 is the disappointing residue left in the ice cream tub after the really good plot points were scooped out for #789. Letting Christos Gage handle the scripting doesn't help, but Stuart Immonen keeps the story looking good. This issue must happen before Johnny Storm inherits Reed's billions in Uncanny Avengers, because that would solve *a lot* of the problems Pete is having here.

Pete's first assignment as the Bugle's science editor *of course* turns into a mystery requiring Spidey/Mockingbird investigation. It's a satisfying (albeit silly) one-shot that has gratifying connections to several of the title's supporting cast members. Once again it feel likes Dan Slott is actually investing effort into the "Legacy" banner and making this feel like super-early Spidey - this script's tone matches the best of the Conway/Andru years. (Lee/Ditko? Hey, let's not push it.) Stuart Immonen's art is entertaining and not at all bad, but there are several missed opportunities that oh-so-slightly suggest he's delivering less than his best here. "Immonen on cruise control" is still a formidable visual performance.

While dull villain Lee Price Venomizes up Felicia Hardy's gang of c-listers, Spidey and Flash Thompson fall head-over-heels into an entertaining bromance. I have no problem with the fact Dan Slott has torched a little continuity (Spidey and Flash-Venom had an excellent rapprochement at the end of Venom: Space Knight) to maximize the Odd-Couple-ness these two can get up to right now. This event isn't shaping up into a Carmina Burana-backed Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny, and that's OK. The splendid little character beats along the way justify the exercise for me. Ryan Stegman's art is both polished and dynamic, and the visuals move the story along smoothly and quickly.

An half-issue of possessed Spidey makes for some cute sitcom-ish humor. The hero squad takes full shape: It's Flash as Anti-Venom, Eddie Brock as Venom, the Black Cat, and welcome addition Andi AKA Mania. (Plus Spidey once they wrassle his stupid mind-control mask off.) The revelation of Lee Price's ultimate target, though, is utterly underwhelming. He's gonna work his mojo on a pack of generic Puzo-knockoff goons-in-suits, the Five Families. Dan Slott (with Felicia as his mouthpiece) completely fails to make this look like the catastrophic threat it could/should be. This is a fun enough ride, but the sense that the creators are on cruise control throughout is inescapable.

Scorpio returns from his one-year cross-dimension exile and Spidey spends a little less than a full issue foiling him. The balance of the book is devoted to menacing foreshadowing about a mother of a nemesis coming back for Spider-Man. The foreshadowing is great, the Scorpio story is rather less great. Still, Dan Slott and Stuart Immonen on cruise control deliver a notably above average product in terms of nuts-and-bolts storytelling. I wouldn't race out to buy it the instant it was available, but it's certainly not a disappointment.

This arc is less an ongoing story than a series of one-shots linked by brief foreshadowing about the upcoming Carnage/Osborn fight. This one, in which Loki manipulates Spidey through some do-goodery, is quite satisfying on its own. Loki comes off well - definitely evil doing good for selfish reasons - and Peter's bearing up well under a harsh run of Parker Luck. The visuals are the ceiling on this issue, though. They do well with bug fighting and smirking Loki, but they don't bring enough emotional weight to the end of Peter's current romance. The script lets us down there as well; the "we discovered we have nothing in common" excuse doesn't satisfy at all in this case.

Spidey and Anti-Venom team up and it's enough to give Peter an inferiority complex. Most importantly, MJ is surprisingly open to re-entering Peter's romantic orbit. Osborn and Carnage are still on the arch-nemesis foreshadowing train. This issue is all about relationship development, and I really liked the developments. Jameson assuming the role of Spider-Man's snarky mission control guy is particularly great. The script is solid for a progress issue, but the art is disappointing to me. The basic storytelling flow works OK, but the visuals score a C minus on accurately portraying the emotions suggested by the script.

Everyday Spider-life proceeds for Peter as Norman gets serious about tracking down his nemesis. A sad roadblock pops up to slow down the Peter-MJ reunion that looked so sure last month. Norman Osborn is gloriously maxing out the creepy factor as he taunts, teases, and scares a mystery captive to force out a crucial spidey-clue. It's a complex script maneuvered with skill and supported by high-quality art. The sheer number of moving parts and the undeniable "we're just getting started" feel hold it down in the realm of good rather than great, though.

The Red Goblin stages an operatic introduction to Spider-Man. It's menacing as all get-out and gorgeously illustrated. I think the pace is squished by the looming #800; fitting the reveal and the triumph of the Red Goblin into the same issue shortchanges them both a little. Beyond that, they're wonderfully done, though, and the sheer dramatic weight of a status quo change this big is worth a little bonus rating.

Spidey's Amazing Friends swing into action to try and stop the Red Goblin. Their efforts are an objective failure but dang if they aren't entertaining as all get-out. With a superb supporting roster, an excellent plot, and a mother of a twist ending, this issue is tops for story. The art is cover-to-cover gorgeous, taking full advantage of all the script's opportunities. I detect a dip in quality when it comes to dialogue, though, particularly the Goblin's voice. Compared to the high drama of the plot, the spoken words come out curiously flat and forgettable.

Spider-Man takes down the Red Goblin with the help of many friends and some highly unexpected allies. This is a glorious capstone to a volume, and it makes productive use of a TON of great characters. There are sacrifices and triumphs, heartbreak and laughter, and pure perfect Spidey-philosophy covering both "Great Responsibility" and more subtle lessons. Visually, this issue is one of the best-ever implementations of an artist carousel. The subtly-shifting styles somehow add to the story rather than detract from it. This is a stupendous book in every respect.

This noble meditation follows a civilian saved by Spidey in his very first days. He cultivates a thorough understanding of Spidey's Deal and passes it on to his niece many years later. Gorgeous art with insane storytelling skill is combined with a flawless feelgood script; this is a simple and moving Spidey ode for the ages.

Betty Brant digs up one last scoop from Ned Leeds with help from Peter and Spidey. This is really beautiful art allied to a notably stupid script. Introducing tritium as a deadly explosive METAL is "1963-era Stan Lee" comic book science. The character relationships are frustrating. The sarcastic, Seinfeldian humor undercuts the faint attempts at being genuinely heartwarming. The Game of Thrones jokes are going to age poorly, too. B story: Playwright David Hein stretches out a simple joke about the hidden dangers of spider-sense. To fill nine pages, it gets over-analytical and over-whiny. This strip, like the A story, gets superb art. This annual reaches an impeccable standard for visuals, but the scripting insight to match it is MIA. This feels aimed at an audience about four years younger than the usual one for ASM.

Peter is dragged down to a low yet promising point by dramatic changes to his status quo. He gets a welcome relationship upgrade and the B-Story puts an ominous nemesis on the horizon. I think these creators will do excellent work cranking out ordinary Spidey issues on the regular, but their talents wear a little thin in a giant-sized extravaganza. The comedy pulls the "silly punchline undercutting serious drama" gag once or twice too often. The script includes too many flashbacks, interfering with the flow of the main story and making this book seem more disjointed than it is. The art is generally formidable, with a few exceptions. There's something hard to define but definitely off-putting about this artist's rendition of MJ's face.

This issue eventually gets around to pushing the "Curt Connors wants Peter as a student" plot through a couple of promising developments, including an excellent last-page surprise. The first scenes are still going a little heavy on the "I am Spider-Man! Look at me Spider-Man-ing all over the place!" characterization. MJ name-checking "fresh start" was pretty cringe-y, too. The art is growing more impressive, using smart conservation of detail to make things look clear and bold without getting simplistic or flat.

Peter Parker tells the story of how he stopped being Spider-Man. That statement gets more and more terrifying the more we learn about it. In the art and especially the writing, this issue has a marvelous and rare problem: It's done SO well that it gives a deceptive feeling of simplicity. In the same way that highly-trained athletes don't seem to sweat, the creators worked so hard to make this issue smooth and rational that it's easy to overlook their efforts.

The creators double - nay, triple - down on stressing how very very bad it is to have Peter and Spidey split in two. While I don't need my Spidey comics to be wall-to-wall gravitas, I do like them to be more substantive than this. This issue mashes so hard on the comedy button that its last-act attempt to turn to drama doesn't work nearly as well as it should. It's well done from a storytelling point of view - words and art - but it feels terribly inconsequential.

Pete successfully reintegrates with Spidey and easily overcomes the Tri-Sentinel threat. This script is skilled at doing funny silly wacky Spidey, but it fumbles when it pivots to dramatic Spidey. Also, four different villains all foreshadowing in the same issue is absurd, and not "good absurd." The art's brilliant; I'm even warming up to Mr. Ottley's take on MJ. The inconsistent tone of the script strands this issue just short of "good comic" for me.

Spidey gets his first peek at a dangerous resurgence of the Thieves' Guild. This issue takes its sweet time setting up the game board; the good news is, this particular game looks ideal for Spider-Man. Sound art and dialogue keep the reading experience fun and the promise of the story to come is huge.

A few feints towards a silly Spidey Christmas are spoiled by Jameson playing the insufferable Grinch. Spidey's not at all wrong when he says J-Cubed makes everything about himself, and that looks to be the way subsequent issues are going to develop. This is a fun read, with notably gorgeous visuals. Although the ratio of straight plot development to comic relief digressions is skewed toward the latter - and the divide between the two is extreme - the overall level of quality and enjoyability is uniformly high.

That one page where Kingpin prioritizes delivering a salad bar/veganism joke over explaining his schemes could be Exhibit A in the case of People Who Hate Nick Spencer's Spider-Man vs. Nick Spencer. Exhibit B would be "Nobody'll notice if I straight-up steal the premise from Chip Zdarsky's Spectacular Spider-Man Annual, right? It's been six whole months!"

I cannot get properly engaged with the story when the art is beating me over the head on every page, screaming, "this is CHRIS BACHALO'S Spider-Man! Accept no substitutes!" Except this issue's serving of art IS a substitute; this is exactly the wrong way for a fill-in artist to distinguish himself.

A Kraven-centric episode reveals most of his plans, though nuances and some relationships between the moving parts are still deliciously ambiguous. He's gonna unleash wannabe hunters on animal-themed supervillains, and it's all but stated at this point that the fun's gonna happen right in Fun City. This issue builds anticipation for a memorable story quite well.

A solid rewind story shows exactly how Felicia got to where she is at the end of ASM #16. It looks pretty good and the script is mighty compelling. Blending retrospective "meet character x" details with a highly-relevant take on the story at hand is one of Nick Spencer's best skills. This approach can slow down plot development, but that's no problem in a "fill in the gaps" issue like this.

Kraven Jr. catches Spidey, completing the menagerie and launching the grand hunt. This issue lumbers forward like an unstoppable tank, paying off past foreshadowing and delivering some solid moments. The pace might be problematic if the pieces didn't fit together so well. Also, another "only hypothetically bad" issue: Spidey's started A LOT of desperate stories in "oooh I'm too sick to be web-swinging" mode. It COULD come off as a cliche -- but it's done well here.

It's a good Spidey-comic, but the shadow of a potentially-better Spidey-comic seems to loom over every page. The focus actively avoids the principal characters to filigree around the edges of the premise instead. Is that becoming a chronic problem for this volume?

The poor benighted Gibbon is ground between the gears of the Hunted event, and this aside story takes a moment to mourn his downfall. It's a story told with superlative skill. The script excels at soliciting sympathy, and a gritty, painful story like this is a perfect fit for Ken Lashley's art. It certainly yanked my heartstrings hard. But I do recall that this sort of petit Walter Mitty tragedy is what the Gibbon has ALWAYS been about. Stan Lee and John Romita invented him specifically to be a lovable loser. Here, he bows out, more lovable and sympathetic than ever before.

Spidey spends the whole issue on the sidelines while the Lizard and Black Cat actually get into the scrum. Did Mr. Spencer lose track of which issues were supposed to carry the main story and which ones were supposed to be the ".HU" side-stories? Or is this just the inevitable evolution of the kid-glove approach he's taken to Spider-Man throughout this volume? "Spider-Man: a beloved action figure around whom interesting things happen"? No thank you!

This is another issue that makes me think the cart and horse have gotten severely mixed up in this event, with the main issues digressing into side-stories and the supplementary issues carrying too much plot-critical stuff.

I love the subtle nod to Kraven's adventures with Squirrel Girl.

Meet the new Kraven, same as the old Kraven. This epilogue is crafted OK, but I can't escape the feeling of inconsequentiality. All this volume ever really does is drag Spidey through stories that leave him slightly exhausted but otherwise unchanged. And I know the Mighty Marvel Marketing Department still wants to pretend that Ryan Ottley is this volume's lead artist, but he's had so little to do with the Hunted arc that these visuals come across as third-party commentary rather than a final chapter from a unified creative team.

The creators spin up a whole issue of tension to make it seem super-duper impressive when they reveal Centipede Guy's name. I'm stuck on the obvious problem: "What should we call this guy?" doesn't crack my Top 5 List Of Biggest Centipede Guy Mysteries. And while this issue has fine storytelling chops, I'm thinking the creators' intent was not to perversely amplify my desire to keep calling Centipede Guy Centipede Guy. But that's what they did.

I think in an ideal world, where editors assigned writing duties based on skill and enthusiasm while ignoring marketing considerations, contemporary Nick Spencer would be writing an MJ solo -- a really good one. I enjoyed that slice of the story far more than any of the others, with the algorithmic C-strip getting my silver medal. The other stuff in the A-strip was pretty messy and digressive; it feels like ASM has way more irons in the fire than it needs. The sheer size and cost of the issue would be a big negative if I were buying floppies; reading it via MU insulates me from the outrageous pricing.

I hope Tom Taylor gets royalties when Nick Spencer gloms his Friendly Neighborhood character work and uses it as background color to fill out another issue of "the Amazing Supporting Cast Of Spider-Man." I'm elated that Electro's reaction to the Syndicate is a hard pass once she meets the loser-ladies involved. That roster takes a promising idea and turns it into the Dunder-Mifflin of Evil. I hope they get clobbered not by Spidey or other heroes, but by Monica Rappaccini, Viper, Alexa Lukin, Madame Masque, Sin, the fairly gender-balanced Serpent Society, or, oh, maybe THE INVENTED-IN-THIS-VOLUME leader of the Thieves' Guild, Odessa Drake -- really any of the dozen boss b*tch Marvel supervillainesses the Beetle forgot about while making her whiny glass ceiling pitch. (I do understand -- and appreciate -- that the source of the stupid here is the characters rather than the author.)

Pete misses MJ's departure for Hollywood due to a classic bout of Spider-business. There are some heartstring-plucking hooks to the outcome of both the Spider-stuff and the relationship content, and there's a superb Aunt May conversation, too. The issue gets a powerful script and very fitting guest art -- the storytelling is nigh faultless. It's a familiar story, though; an old dance enacted by new dancers.

Solid storytelling, plenty of good ideas, and some engaging foreshadowing.

Spidey guts up and defeats Carnage-Norman. Like the previous issue, the fight is tied to an earlier conversation with Kindred and Norman, with this one's focus swinging hard to the villains at the end. It's a pretty solid execution of good ideas, though the fight visuals could be stronger and Spidey's story is left dangling.

Artist Patrick Gleason makes a pretty debut, but the story developments just perpetuate the problem of Peter Parker being the least-interesting part of his own comic.

I'm pretty sure Mr. Spencer is soon going to stitch Miguel's story together with Pete's classmate's new future-predicting technology. And the Silver Sable plotline is, in theory, awesome. It would have been a killer as a miniseries, but instead it's here, dragging at least two issues of ASM dangerously close to trainwreck territory. The Latverian/Symkarian stuff should be left where it belongs (and where I suspect Mr. Spencer swiped it), in the Dr. Doom series.

Pete picks up the Clairvoyant, stumbles into the middle of Doom's assassination, and finally links up with Miguel to catch a heap of 2099 crisis exposition from him. I think the fast pace is suited to the simplicity of the plot points, so it rolls out nice and smooth if you don't think about anything too hard. I found the art solid, but not the GOAT performance some readers assume the instant they see Mr. Gleason's name. It meets (high) expectations for top-shelf art but doesn't distinguish itself further in my eyes.

I almost wrote "Aside from being a jarring fill-in, there's nothing wrong with Oscar Bazaldua's art." But that's not true, is it? Weak settings, bad anatomy (be on the lookout for Giraffe-Neck Spidey), and an unfortunate lesson learned at the Greg Land School of "with different costumes and hairstyles, you can get through a whole career knowing how to draw just one woman." The lackadaisical script really lives down to the art, producing a thoroughly mediocre comic. Mediocre comics are okay, they're not disasters -- but as others have noted, there is something a bit disastrous about Marvel filling its most famous title with such feeble storytelling. Conceptual nitpick: It undercuts the magicalness of the mutants achieving serial resurrection if the same ability (in the form of "uploading your consciousness to the cloud," ugh, be more buzzwordy) is available to z-list chumps like Hitman. Also, writing/editing nitpick: Somebody call the Department of Redunancy Department on "assassination attempt on his life."

I'm sooooo glad they nose-dived ASM through this garbage arc instead of giving 2099 a proper event miniseries. This worked out MUCH better for the readers and the story. *Sarcasm meter explodes*

Spidey starts using the Clairvoyant to get a head start on his hero-ing (no way THAT'LL backfire), Jonah accepts a mysterious proposition, and Kindred does his thousandth bit of ominous foreshadowing. So business as usual for this series, really. It looks nice and it sounds good, it's got charm and humor. But I'm thrice bitten and very shy -- one solid issue with a few promising plot developments aren't enough to shake off the feeling that this volume is trapped in amber.

Spider-Man, Jonah, and the Foreigner run through three distinct but nicely-connected stories. It's got a great structure and scratchy but appealing art. The characters are handled pretty well, too (with the one exception noted below). But how many times is this volume gonna ring the "stop helping me, Jonah" bell? I would have sworn it's impossible to write Jonah as TOO cranky -- but I think this issue manages the trick in the 1st scene.

Spidey and Jonah hash out their latest tea on a podcast, and the Foreigner/Chance story makes a sharp left turn to link up with Spidey's plotline. It's written and drawn well, but I'm running out of enthusiasm for the "Ho ho ho, Jameson's help is worse than Jameson's antagonism" premise. It doesn't help that this issue's addition is over-recappy; it left me feeling shorted on content.

Spider-Man allows Chance to get away with his web-shooter, since there doesn't seem to be any risk to civilians. Nora reaches out to Peter Parker to join her Spidey-centric media company. Words and art are enjoyable on a page-to-page basis, but the overall plot lacks sense. What's the secret twist behind Chance's supervillain casino? I feel like this issue was supposed to reveal it but failed to do so.

No matter how much flashing back he does -- and he can do a *lot* -- Nick Spencer's Spidey just never digs his way out of the backlog of plot development the author dumps on him.

Gog's turn in the spotlight. This issue fleshes out both his origins and his connection to the Lifeline tablet. As a standalone sci-fi story about a giant monster that's actually a loyal, dog-ish pet trying to get home to his boy, it's pretty dang good. On a larger scale, though, this volume of ASM is already terribly digressive and this issue-long side-story doesn't do anything good to the long-term pace.

Against all odds, Boomerang is instrumental in saving New York from Gog. This finale manages to hang onto the sweetness generated in the last issue and stick the landing in a way that both progresses the plot and tugs at the heartstrings. This is the level of quality ASM should always be aiming for.

This is Amazing Spider-Man. The company literally does not have a bigger-ticket ongoing series. And *this* they do to the art?

Like the rest of the volume, this issue is pretty recap-heavy. But it's done in a nearly-all-positive way here, enhancing the reading experience and increasing accessibility.

A complex flash-forward structure reveals a battle between the Sin-Eater and the Lethal Legion while also showing reactions after the fact. The Sin-Eater is getting popular and Spidey is struggling to find valid objections to his MO. It's very dark and very compelling; this issue scores big in cultivating "what happens next?" anticipation. I had a bit of a problem with the art, though: The story flow got very rough in the fight scenes, with the action on some pages only becoming clear with the benefit of hindsight.

Sin-Eater builds an army and Spidey gets beat down when he tries to stop him. The language didn't impress me, but the themes, character work, and plotting are all outstanding. As others have noted, the ideas about power dynamics between the common people and the authorities/superheroes couldn't be more relevant. I wouldn't quite call the art great, but it's striving and succeeding to be more than merely average.

As the Sin-Eater stalks Norman Osborn, Spidey rallies his JV spiders for moral guidance. After grappling mightily -- movingly -- with the issue, Spidey charges in to save his biggest nemesis. I find the script and the art to be good, not great. On the content side, though, we DO get greatness; this issue has a gripping plot and enthralling character work. Spidey misses a key argument on his side, though: Even if Sin-Eater "cleanses" Norman and it sticks for a while -- how many times has Osborn been cured, rehabilitated, or memory-wiped? He always comes back to evil.

I like the creepy way Osborn's Spider-feelings straddle the fence between paternal and homoerotic. I'm less of a fan of him creeping on Gwen-65 -- I like it in principle, but Creepy Norman already gets more than enough spotlight in this issue. On the art side, due respect to Humberto Ramos and Mark Bagley as "dudes what have drawn a lot of Spider-Man," but they don't live up to Ryan Ottley's performance.

This is a really good Spider-Man story. But it's not great, and I have a clear idea of why. After 1000+ pages of build-up, the Kindred premise resolves into familiar characters airing familiar grievances. It's classic Spidey. Greatest hits Spidey. It's comfort food Spidey: Full of safe, well-known ingredients we love -- and free of anything daring, risky, or inventive. This is as good as you can make Spider-Man if you're too scared to tinker with the franchise's tried-and-true recipes.

Penitent Norman Osborn chews through some scenery and is desperate to help his son. Meanwhile, an expanded scene of Spidey battling the Order of the Web puts him in contact with Kindred. This isn't quite essential, but it's far from disappointing. Decent art and a nice smooth scene structure -- and just enough extra plot tidbits to make reading it feel rewarding.

In grand Dr. Strange style, the Sorcerer Supreme is only half-helpful when Spidey comes a-calling. Peter's left to assemble his own strategy for tackling Kindred -- as it should be. This issue has capable storytelling all around, and it opens up an interesting can of possibility worms. This arc could turn out great -- or it might fizzle. It's certainly holding my attention for the time being!

This companion arc is shooting 2 for 3 on plotlines I'm interested in. I like the idea of Norman and MJ teaming up, I LOVE Strange and Black Cat teaming up, but Sin-Eater sticking around? Ugh. And his new target? Double ugh. I don't think it's a good idea to revisit a questionable mystical nemesis from Spidey's past while you're trying to set up a new one.

This issue hits hard and fast, like a great drum solo. But the setting is so surreal and the villain so mystical that I doubt the reality and finality of the Serious Developments we see here -- even setting aside the usual "Spidey has to win in the end" certainty. Now, with such a cynical take, you might expect me to dismiss the Spidey/Kindred combat as inconsequential. But the artist's fight scenes are just too dang good for that. Even if I think it doesn't matter in the long term, I feel Peter's pain in the present.

Dr. Strange rallies the de-possessed Order of the Web, Norman Osborn struggles to gain MJ's trust, and the Sin-Eater edges his Morlun-hunt forward. It's got good dialogue and scruffy but vibrant art. I feel like only the safer plotlines (Dr. Strange and Sin-Eater) come across as authentic, though. Osborn's connection with Mary Jane fizzles, partly because WHY WOULD SHE EVER TRUST HIM, but partly because the authors don't give him the right words.

I know, I know. It's a bigly huge-normous moment in Spider-history. But I contend it's not a good comic. Why? First, relying on supplementary material or in-depth prior knowledge is asking too much of the reader -- and I maintain this issue is incomprehensible (or at least inconsequential) unless you have ASM #545 in front of you or burned into your brain. Second, all due respect to Mark Bagley, but he's not at his best here and his panels aren't in the same ballpark as Mr. Quesada's originals -- which you're all too likely to go review after reading the later issue. It's a pale imitation, visually, and Mr. Spencer leans his script so far into #545 that half of this issue is meaningless without the relevant background.

Sin-Eater has his moment with Morlun and Dr. Strange shepherds the Order through Peter's dreamscape. Once again, the reader who doesn't know her OMD details is ☠️☠️☠️☠️ out of luck. If you ARE familiar, the dreamscape conflict is pretty cool. The oversized art team doesn't do the visuals any favors, though.

Harry kills Pete a bunch more and makes an unconvincing case for "THIS guilt trip about endangering your loved ones is really really different." It's a solid idea, but the pace is repetitive, the prose doesn't give it the distinction it needs, and while Mark Bagley is still a titan of comics art, he is not doing his best work here.

Kindred's big plan comes together, and even though the Order of the Web wins a fight, things look rough for the good guys. An accelerating plot, solid dialogue, and good art all combine to make this run toward the climax a lot more satisfying than the set-up issues -- at least for me.

With the cast assembled, Harry finally lays out his full grievances against Spider-Man. But he gets blindsided by MJ and Norman launching a play against him that might or might not be a put-on. I admire how neatly the plot threads come together here, reinforcing strong storytelling with interesting content. It's right next door to greatness and I can't wait to see how it wraps up.

The "resolution" of the Kindred story, such as it is, unfolds in non-linear scenes arranged with skill. The prose and the art are above average, but it's the ideas that really fascinate. My repeated complaint about Nick Spencer's Spider-Man has been that it's too static and too safe (also too supporting-cast-focused, which remains a problem). The outcome of this big arc has addressed my complaint well, revitalizing Norman Osborn with a daring and compelling new status quo.

Nobody's particularly happy to have stopped Kindred; it's obvious to all involved that the story isn't over. Lots of fear, lots of anger, particularly locked up inside Peter's head. He's nursing a full-blown case of PTSD that can and should be milked for plenty of angst in subsequent issues. I think both the words and the art in this issue are strong but not perfect. I wouldn't change a thing about the way the characters and the plot develop here, though. Outstanding.

A broken Spider-Man is still struggling with the fallout of Last Remains. But there's no time to heal; Mr. Negative is gunning for Martin Li and Aunt May is in the line of fire. The superheroics are good, as is the continuing tragedy of the Osborn family. It's a nice, fast read, but it has plenty of strong development for its characters. The art could be a lot better, though. These visuals aren't flawed (not badly), but they're also not quite fit for a flagship title.

Mr. Negative's sins come home to roost, and he's immediately swept away by Mayor Fisk to set up the next arc. Tablet of Life and yadda yadda, ho! I'm not too interested in that, but I enjoyed the continued Last Remains fallout for Pete and Norman. Aunt May does some solid Aunt-May-ing here, too. While there's nothing wrong per se with this issue's art, I'd still like to see ASM get a little more visual oomph.

MJ takes the reins, putting Peter through a tormented but cathartic bit of soul-searching. Ratcheting the scale down as small as possible pays off here, with excellent emotional work coming out of the intense script. The art is also on point in this issue; Mark Bagley serves up a reminder that he's a GOOD fast Spider-artist. This script needs a lot of nuanced, emotional faces and Mr. Bagley absolutely delivers.

In a conscious move to get a little more fun, Spidey's kitted out with a "social influencer" suit, a ridiculous idea that's sure to go wrong in hilarious ways. The concept is handled with just enough awareness to win my approval, and I can't wait to see what disaster springs from this development. Mayor Fisk's latest move takes the fun-n-games a step too far, though. That's this volume in a nutshell: Anything that's worth doing is worth overdoing.

Spidey and Boomerang save Gog from Fisk's machinations, and Randy and the Beetle experience a contrived but superbly-executed sitcom revelation in their relationship. This is a small serving of plot development, but the presentation is top tier all the way. And the characterization is good, too.

Beetle and Randy dance through their prescribed romantic comedy of errors while Spidey's Lifeline table story chugs along. It's finely crafted -- I particularly admire the speedy, complex-but-clear scene structure -- but it's very safe. The "Romeo and Juliet" parallels are so obvious that hanging a lampshade on them feels redundant, if not smug. The art: I like a lot of the characters, particularly the Beetle. A script this fast and complicated really needs better blocking and visual storytelling, though. Bigger picture problem: This issue's contemporary and flashback focus on the Randy & Janice reveals that they have no real sexual or interpersonal chemistry. The sole purpose of their relationship is to generate plot twists and motivate other characters.

Spidey struggles to stay relevant as three plotlines develop with minimal involvement from him. Robbie and Tombstone team up to save their kids, Fred goes after the last Lifeline fragment on his own, and Mordo (at Fisk's direction) starts to wake up Kindred. These stories are progressing in interesting ways, but they're conveyed with underwhelming words and art here. It seems to be a waste to use Nick Spencer on anything Spidey-related other than "Superior Foes." He's practically turned ASM into that, which is a real Catch-22. Hooray, more Superior Foes! But boo, we want real ASM!

Spidey and Robbie team up with the Syndicate and Tombstone to save the day in this fight spectacular. As usual for a Nick Spencer script, the prose doesn't wow me. But I respect the thematic work. The way the "father's responsibility" theme links Robbie, Tombstone, and Osborn is great. Spidey works a "redemption" theme as he pivots from teaming up with villains to rescuing Boomerang. It's not as strong as the fatherhood theme, but it's certainly not bad. This was written as a good, potentially great comic. And it's dragged down to mere acceptability by two shabby art performances. The lines in the opening and closing scenes are so fragile that they'd work better without color. And the fight sandwiched in the middle is a hopeless mess, a frantic scribble-storm with a severe lack of detail and clarity. For the Nth time, the demands of publishing on a more-than-monthly schedule rob Marvel's flagship title of the quality it deserves.

It's business as usual for this title, with Spidey sitting like a stump as a range of different plotlines lumber slowly past him. The writing's decent and events are presented with a nice serving of Mark Bagley art, so it's not a particularly unpleasant read. And I should look on the bright side of this volume's recap-heavy style: It does make single issues a lot more self-contained than is normal for today.

A plethora of baddies advance ominous plans. Chameleon puts hooks into Teresa Parker, Chance puts hooks in the Clairvoyant kid, and meanwhile Pete's busy being gobsmacked by impossible developments in the story of Betty Brant and Ned Leeds. It's par for the course for this volume: An intricate, technically accomplished script that fails to impress me supported by art that does the same. (These visuals are polished but generic, with some regrettably goofy faces.) I'm so sick of the way the protagonists, Peter especially, are always reacting instead of acting.

This comic is its own Cliffs Notes: Plot beats conveyed with clarity, but missing the character connections and storytelling texture that make a story engaging. I can't forgive Pete sitting through 7 straight pages of backstory; that's some Roy-Thomas-level expository BS.

Jamie betrays Spidey, Chance & Foreigner's goons betray them to the Finisher, and the Finisher goes completely off the deep end trying to intimidate Teresa/confuse the readers. I don't like the art collaboration, even though the individual parts are good. I absolutely loathe the Teresa scenes, not because of her, but because the Finisher's foreshadowing is total crap. But for seven blissful pages, Spidey is actually clobbering badguys and making funny quips. … that should not feel like such a rare treat in AS-#$%#&@#-M.

Spidey is yet again in the spectator seat as the author puts the finishing touches on the vast roster of villains queuing up for Sinister War. On the one hand, this feels like a great re-railment after a couple of blah story arcs, and the staging for the upcoming event looks good. On the other hand, I'm underwhelmed by the art and of course, there's the perennial "Passive Pete" problem.

Mysterio passes MJ to Kindred after doing some (presumably) important continuity callbacks. The other key supporting cast members reflect on Harry Osborn's death in (presumably) significant ways. Even if I accept that Spidey's part of this event will be happening in the miniseries, I think this issue is pretty thin tea -- it's just last-minute stage-setting work. And at the risk of sounding like a broken record, the art quality on this title remains flagrantly unacceptable for a flagship comic.

Norman Osborn is tormented with the one sin he can't escape, and Kindred has a few more surprises left on deck. The prose is strictly functional (and Kindred does tend to go on and on), but the structure is admirably complex. The art's still disappointing, but not outrageously so. And as a whole, this issue manages to do the nigh-impossible: Get me engaged in Kindred's wheels-within-wheels plots and pique my interest for the final revelations.

Kindred pulls another identity out of his/their/its hat. Peter remains a passive football yet again, but presumably he'll have to do SOMETHING soon to resolve all this. Annoyingly, just as in the last Kindred climax, Nick Spencer abandons his usual "self-contained story" MO to dive deep into continuity, and my sketchy Spider-scholarship leaves me much more confused than I want to be. Still, I can tell some momentous and welcome retconning is happening here. But while mucking out horse stables is an important and useful job, its utility doesn't make it inherently fun to watch. On the visual side, the artist carousel is turning out slightly more tolerable results than before. It's still not nearly as good as sticking with a single artist, though.

"Thank goodness that's over" is not the ideal reader reaction you want after an issue or an arc or a run, but that's how I feel. This arc wasn't a total trainwreck, but it had serious problems. Some were too integral to cut out, like the transition from "Harry as singular Kindred" to "Sarah and Gabriel as 2 Kindreds." But some problems could have been trimmed or deleted, like Dr. Strange's superfluous presence. (Mr. Spencer was quick enough to cut away the marriage proposal angle, grumble grumble.) The issue at hand: A hell of a lot of fighting, rendered extra-pointless by a particularly traumatic trip around the artist carousel. The backup strips were decent, although the final one lives or dies based on how much of a Ben Reilly scholar you are. Silver linings: At least Mr. Spencer did some good retconning by burying Sins Past. He even buried his retcon tools, killing Kindred along with the twins. I'd like to think no future writer will be stupid enough to bring them back. But on a long enough timeline …

The return of Ben Reilly kicks off with some simple plot and character beats that are developed with formidable storytelling skill. I appreciate the creators leaving it up to us to connect some of the dots, though they do pull them pretty close together for us. The art is highly polished and it plays an important role in shaping the story. That initial nightmare is a really great way to start; it's some strong "show-don't-tell" character work. I'm cautiously optimistic.

Pete faces Serious Medical Drama™ and Ben is appropriately broken up about it before going to clobber the U-Foes. Featuring plenty of solid MJ and Aunt May attention, too. The storytelling here is terrific, in words and especially in the art. But without busting on the craft, I do have to say that the plot isn't the most novel thing in the world. A little bit of melodramatic familiarity isn't enough to make this less than a good comic, though.

In a vacuum, I love this comic, perhaps more than the last 2 issues. But as part of an ongoing story, it represents a pretty sharp swerve. The pace brakes abruptly, though we do get deeper character interactions in exchange. The art is gorgeous, but stylistically *very* different from what came before. But I'm buoyed up by our strongest hints yet that we're seeing Nextwave Beyond rather than 616 Beyond -- or at least some delightful melange of the two.

So, I think I get it now: We've got 3 stories in parallel. Ben runs a gauntlet of classic Spidey foes, Pete struggles through the coma, and (hopefully) Colleen and Misty investigate Beyond. They're all in balance here. Where the previous issue swung character-heavy, this one swings the other way, advancing all the plots nicely. The art remains excellent. While it hasn't reached for greatness, this story is consistently good so far -- and that makes a welcome change from the last months of the Spencer run.

My rating reflects my completely unfair, completely subjective love for Jed MacKay's Daughters of the Dragon MDO, which was even wackier than this. Plus, the art's cool in a super-exaggerated way. Plus plus, ZOMG the Nextwave connection. All that being said, there's quite a whiplash jumping from #78 to this. Colleen Wing, in particular, sounds like a completely different person. I like both versions but admit they don't belong side-by-side. I think this should have been a separately-titled one-shot rather than a fractional issue of ASM.

I didn't see any big storytelling problems here, but the plot development (or rather the lack thereof) worries me. Feels like Ben breaks no new ground in this issue, just spinning his wheels. Peter's the same. Kraven was the highlight of the issue, and yet I'm not that engaged with his scheme. I'm expecting this gauntlet of classic Spidey villains not to have much of a lasting impact on Ben or the bigger plot -- if the next issue proves me wrong it'll help restore my faith.

This issue hooked me hard. While the dialogue gets a little wordy in some places, in others it's simply great -- this is a terrific voice for Ben. The visuals are generally strong, rising to tour-de-force levels with the hallucinations at the start. And of course, the "after credits" scene is pure spider-nerd catnip. I like the way this arc is coming together -- and the way this particular creative team pulls the strings.

I could, in theory, like/love a story about May and Ock teaming up for a screwball side-quest. And I could, in theory, stand to read romantic/sexual tension between those two. But not like this. I didn't like Otto's voice; I genuinely *hated* May's. Plodding through their dialogue ruined my enjoyment and gave me the maybe-unfair (but maybe not) impression that the pace was too slow. On the plus side, I like this art style. I like the significant plot developments. Objectively, this is probably an above-average comic. But "average" is as far as I can go subjectively; I was just straight up not having a good time.

The main point here is to team up Ben and Miles in a very old-school way, complete with a bit of Misunderstanding Brawl. I liked it. The team-up was a nice bit of popcorn-chompin' action, boosted by great art. This is the first time I've really liked the way Miles' current costume is drawn. The dialogue was great stuff, too; the voices were natural and very fun. However … The big-picture plot is moving pretty slow. And the character beats are consistent with what's come before. Maybe too consistent. Ben is half-rebellious, Janine is fretting, Marcus is exasperated, Maxine is Ms. Frosty Boss. Lather rinse repeat. I wouldn't say the slow strategic pace and repetition are making this bad, or even average. But they are anchors holding this story (and this issue) closer to good than great.

The Beyond arc continues its troubling trend of bouncing from digression to digression; it seems like this giant team of creators would rather do anything other than advance the main story. That being said, this is a formidable one-shot that (in my case) easily managed to wipe out any disappointment about the main plot being on hold. The art shift was startling at first, but I soon realized this style is nigh-perfect for the creepy story being told. The villain is only strong enough to carry a single issue, but he's fantastically and memorably written. Plus, I'm always a big fan of MJ saving the day, particularly when it's done this organically.

The Beyond arc has inherited some of the weaknesses of Nick Spencer's run, specifically the uneven big-picture pace and the tendency for the heroes to be too passive. But ya know what? I'm OK with Pete and Ben being useless if the banner of heroic plot development is gonna be picked up by Doc Ock. Particularly a Doc Ock that's going back to his classic roots: classic look, classic brains, classic smugness. I had a blast reading this. A formidable performance by one of my favorite artists certainly helps. But the script's humor was working for me, too. I hope Doug the hapless intern can survive this arc and earn himself a small recurring role.

It's all fun and games and comic relief as Otto fights and chews scenery, but when the chips are down and it's time to develop the plot, this issue doesn't quite work for me. I know it's a long arc and the changes here will be unpacked in later issues, but I think this issue needed *something* to anchor the conflict and make it seem meaningful in the short term. The humor works for me, mostly -- though it overstays its welcome once Spidey and Ock come to blows. (And the Nextwave weirdness didn't feel right.) The art is also mostly good. There's definitely some behind-the-scenes trouble with all those inkers, and the finish is uneven. The bones are solid, though. This issue is far from bad, but it's also clearly not the best comic it could be.

The visual shift threw me for a major loop, but as the story unfolded I realized this style is *perfect* for this chapter. The prose is solid and clear, handling major plot developments in a transparent way that keeps my attention focused on their ramifications for the characters. The script has a tight structure, though, cutting quickly between short, powerful scenes. Beyond is damn sure taking a turn for the sinister!

You might know me as "that one user that falls all over himself praising Jed MacKay's Black Cat." Indeed, it's one of my favorite Marvel runs in recent years. And yet, even though this issue is written by Mr. MacKay and it's got a lot of Felicia Hardy fun in it, I recognize her training montage with Peter Parker goes on a little too long and doesn't have much impact. Actual plot development is limited to a few tiny crumbs -- though I appreciate how chilling some of those crumbs are. And the art is very easy on on the eyes in this issue, which is another plus. Still, I rate this as good rather than great -- I *enjoy* being pandered to, but I try to remain aware of it when it's happening.

I really enjoyed this issue despite seeing some definite points for improvement. The art is great for the talky scenes but not so much for the fighting, for example. And the dialogue is serviceable at best. I loved the full revelation of Beyond's nastiness. And I appreciate the way the script used a combination of step-by-step dot connecting and more subtle "nod and a wink" connections to get all the plot development done. Comedy Nitpick: Really, Marvel? You're gonna do characters named "Goblin Queen" AND "Queen Goblin"?

This biographical update on Hobie Brown is sure to be highly satisfying to fans of the character. For those unfamiliar with or unenthusiastic about Hobie, though, this will likely seem indulgent and pointless. The storytelling is adequate throughout, but it seems like the creators never even considered the idea of accommodating non-fans. Or of making a stronger link to the event than, "This is why this set of characters might show up." (And fans of OG slingers Dusk and Ricochet are likely to be pissed off at their cameo-level parts in the issue.) I believe comics should always be trying to win new fans, not just service existing ones.

This issue has great character beats and interactions. The script is well-paced and well-structured. The jokes and power lines in the dialogue are good, but the connective tissue is a bit clumsy. (Were I to be an editor, my first law of comics dialogue would be, "People. Talk. In. Contractions!") The art's just terrific. It's not just Bagley drawing ASM, it's Bagley drawing ASM *really well*. Kudos to the inkers and colorist, too; great finishing is an important part of the presentation. Queen Goblin has about 1 more issue in her, I think/hope. Therapist gimmick, standard Goblin sadism, Shur-Fine Penance Stare, yadda yadda. I'm surprised they haven't already confirmed her obvious identity. (I'm really glad that the Goblin Gaze only staggered Black Cat instead of breaking her.)

It's a fun, satisfying read. The plot continues to develop in interesting if not surprising ways. The art remains great, and the big inking crew on this issue does a pretty consistent job. What could kick the whole thing from good to great would be stronger prose. There's no serious problems with the words and some of the quipping in the front is good, but the character beats at the back would hit a lot harder with better dialogue.

I hate to downrate creators I admire, but this issue just doesn't meet the arc's established "good not great" standard for art and writing. It's an average comic at best. The script does quipping and snarky banter well -- but this is the wrong part of the story for that. Ben's breakdown calls for tension, and the comedy and the slow pace produce the opposite effect. (I'm also thoroughly underwhelmed by the "Door Z" reveal.) The art is wildly dissonant. Sara Pichelli at the start and Fran Galán at the end are drawing completely different comics. (Watch Maxine; they can't even keep her outfit straight.) And there's a transitional zone in the middle, drawn by I don't know which artist, that doesn't match either end.

A nice step up from the previous issue. It's very well-written, with fun dialogue and a compelling look inside Ben's head. And it's drawn half-well. Imma say it: Fran Galán was a bad choice for this arc. I actually like his style, but he's not (yet) good enough at detail and visual storytelling to match up with the other Beyond artists. You just hurt him further when you give him less than an issue; it's guaranteed his pages will be next to better-drawn ones.

I'm rating it a good comic even though I'm fully aware it's pandering to me with surgical precision. Like, Doug was designed in a damn lab to be a breakout character and I love him and I hate how obviously I've been manipulated into loving him. The humor is excellent in my highly subjective view. And I was pleasantly surprised by how well the huge art team worked. It wasn't a seamless collaboration, but a set of distinct styles which complemented each other. The B strip does a good job of making me almost want a new volume of Nextwave written by Jed MacKay. "Almost want" in the sense of "probably nobody should do that, but if not nobody, him." (Also Monica's "be unlikable" soliloquy is a masterpiece of progressive soapboxing. It's fully intersectional, not sticking to any one demographic box, instead focusing on what really matters: Recognizing and resisting injustice and the abuse of power.)

Beyond featured lots of roads not taken, as well as some stumbles on the safe path it chose. But at some point, the writing team clearly said, "We need to finish this with Ben Reilly vs. Peter Parker. How do we make that happen?" I really like the answer they come up with here. The prose is nothing special, but the script's structure and pace are great. The art is clean and simple, but also really powerful -- an excellent vehicle for taking the story along a sudden dark turn. I'm rating Beyond as a whole as "good, not great", including this finale. But this is as close to greatness as the arc gets.

A nifty untold story that slides into the time after the alien costume but before Peter found out it was alive: The symbiote sleep-walks him through some brutal crime-fighting and picks up a few important lessons from a bold bystander. The premise is sound and the writing is - barring an unpleasant reliance on the word "meat" - enjoyable. The layouts are amazing but the finish on the art is too sketchy for me. The comic is good as it is but it could be more than good if it had more visual polish. Well, maybe. Would it be even stronger without the last two pages? The main body's very focused on learning the value of mercy; the end pivots into betrayal of trust. That rounds out the historic plot, but it weakens the overall theme, doesn't it?

Ripley "Star" Ryan unleashes the power of the Reality Stone in an incredibly petty rampage through Queens. Spidey drives her off, but she is utterly unmoved by a standard-issue Spidey appeal to reform. It's a shaggy dog story that's long on humor and short on meaning. The tone of the words and art walks an incredibly tight rope; this will be fantastic for a few readers, skippable for many more, and intolerable to some. The B strip provides a tiny dose of forward momentum for the event, at least.

In my opinion, Chip Zdarsky's segment launches the story over a shark. The whole thing wound up good but not great for me -- I think a more satisfying ending wouldn't need a "behind the scenes" explanation afterward. Art nerd trivia: This form of follow-the-leader collaboration is what the OG surrealists called an "exquisite corpse."

Feels like this switches, halfway through, from "you don't need to have read the original Sin-Eater stories" to "you DO need to have read them."

AKA "ASM 48.5" AKA "Oops, Nick Spencer dawdled and now he needs 30 extra pages to set up legacy #850 properly."

I could rate it lower, but I had a sort of almost-positive schadenfreude reaction to its relentless mediocrity.

When I see 2 writers, 4 artists, and 3 colorists credited for a non-anthology comic, I assume that I'm on the way to a trainwreck … and this issue lived down to my expectations. There are worse things to do at the end of an author's run than leave behind dangling plot threads. Like, say, tying them into a clumsy ol' granny knot. And this arc didn't even accomplish its stupid goal; the loose threads come out of the knot still loose.

There are a few too many mysteries in Pete's new status quo here, and that could be frustrating. The pace and the dialogue are pretty good, though, and the Tombstone plotline looks promising. On the visual side, though JRJR tends to run hot or cold, he looks to be pretty hot right now. This is a pretty book. I hope he can keep up with the ridiculous publication pace.

The script is pretty smooth with all its short, punchy scenes. I really like the humor and the build-up of running gags. The art's decent but no more than that. There are several points where the story needed some more artistic oomph to clarify and energize it. Missed opportunities. Most of all, it's just damned thin on content. It's got the frills (the comedy especially) that could take a good story to greatness; instead, they're straining to lift a one-plot-development issue above average.

This issue has some great content. Nice development across multiple plotlines and, of course, a killer dive into Tombstone's past and psychology. The script is nicely structured and the dialogue (especially Tombstone's) is good. The art gets the job done, but it could do a hell of a lot more to emphasize the emotions at play here. JRJR is a Big Name but I don't think he's going on anybody's GOAT list for drawing expressive faces.

In general, it's a good-not-great issue. There's a little room for improvement in the prose -- and more of it in the art. But oh, the trick that's played on Spidey and us readers! The whole issue is built for it and in my opinion, it works almost perfectly. I have big questions about where the story goes next (and I see that the twist can be nit-picked to death under close scrutiny), but for now, I'm eminently satisfied with the goosebumps and shock this issue smacked me with at the end.

This arc certainly peaked with the big twist in #4. This issue is a softer, slower cool-down. And it's OK. Writing and art are strong, but both have been done better earlier in the volume, short as it is. Spidey's clapback against Tombstone was cool. Petty, but cool. I take issue with the final scene. Yeah, it's great to see Pete and May reconcile. Except: a) Pete's done nothing at all to earn that reconciliation, and b) we still don't have the slightest clue what he did to disappoint her in the first place. In my opinion, so far this volume is a pretty good Spider-Man comic and a pretty poor Peter Parker comic.

Wow, this issue ruffled a lot of feathers, huh? I think we can all agree nobody wanted to see Jimmy Kimmel, even for 4 pages. The other backup strips were good, though; Pete's library books were hilarious. As to the main event, well, it *does* oblige you to buy a ticket for the "Silver Age nostalgia express" if you want to enjoy it. This is exactly the way Marvel did annuals and the first round of #100s in the 60s. I bought the ticket and had a blast; this is hilarious. But it's best taken as a standalone. I see the low raters' point: It's not a particularly good fit with present Marvel continuity or even with the last 5 issues. Jeff Plaza hits the nail on the head down in the red dots when he says all the characters are in "factory reset mode." I agree, but it's just not a big problem for me. This is hardly the first or last time a Marvel writer chucks continuity under the bus for the sake of comedy. Although maybe it's telling that in the lettercol interviews, when asked to identify the "epitome of Spider-Man," most of the creators (and Kevin Feige) give the correct answer, i.e. "If This Be My Destiny." But those with other, wronger answers include this volume's writer and most of its primary artists. Not a good sign, right?

This issue puts some intriguing new twists into Pete's story. I can't shake the feeling that my enthusiasm is contributing more to the intrigue than the creators are, though. I'm about half-satisfied with the idea of Kamala Khan showing up as a supporting character. I don't think she's written or drawn particularly well so far, but Big M's been short on panel time lately, so I'll take what I can get.

Nothing wrong with what the creators are doing here, but nothing spectacular, either. And their storytelling goals with this issue are pretty modest -- old-fashioned, too.

Brisk, stylish, entertaining? Sure. Inventive? Revelatory? Even particularly clear? No, not really.

Between the guest artist and the one-off nature of the story, I was thrown for a loop. This is a lot more subtle than usual for this volume, which is one reason I initially underrated it. And I'm still not going too high. It's a good heartstring-tugger, but "Peter Parker is empathic and responsible" is one of Marvel's lowest-hanging heartstrings. I like that it's not entirely a one-off; there's an important clue about the Awful Mystery Event that happened before #1. I really hope the Norman development on the final page is strictly Judgment-Day-related, though. I'm also liking "Kamala Khan is an Oscorp intern" less and less.

There are plenty of interesting plot developments, mysteries, and foreshadowing here. That makes it a fun little read despite the ongoing "passive Peter" problem, but that's been dogging ASM since before this volume started. The art's solid and clear if not spectacular. While this wouldn't be the first comic of the week that I'd rave about and recommend, it's definitely good. "Kamala Khan, Oscorp intern" continues to get a resounding thumbs down from me, though.

For some reason, this is the issue where I really nail down my feelings toward John Romita Jr: I love pretty much everything about his style except the way he draws ordinary people in non-costume clothes. Which is a pretty big speed bump, but not a brick wall. The script is solid and it pitches out a decent curveball, but neither the prose nor the ideas are truly memorable. Put it all together, and you've got a top-shelf comic -- barely. It feels like something the Spider-editor would show new creators: "ASM needs to be at least this good, and hopefully better."

Ahh, the ol' last-page villain reveal. Often cheap, often lame, definitely a cliche. And yet it won't die. Because it can still hit REALLY hard when it's done well -- as it is here. While I might not be thrilled with this volume's usual standard of tactical writing, the big-picture plotting is pretty dang formidable. An action-heavy, costume-heavy finale suits the artist's talents, producing some nice visuals and ending this short arc on an uptick.

Dark Web is shaping up into quite the tragedy. Although I don't "like" a lot of what's going on -- how many other characters are going to get burned by Ben Reilly's endless, juvenile angst? -- I'll admit the build-up is crafted well. The four-act structure makes a nice excuse for the range of different art styles. Plot and character developments strike a nice balance. What we see here is clearly prelude, but also clearly meaningful.

The bad guys push their various agendas forward and Spidey, as is too often the case these days, is stuck in passive/reactive mode. Both the writing and the art are solid but emphatically not spectacular. This is a relatively small bite of plot development and the creators expend more effort than they need to chewing it up. I remain underwhelmed/disappointed with the way this title uses Kamala Khan.

It's a very well-illustrated fight. The dialogue is satisfactory. The plot, while simple, flows smoothly. There are some decent jokes sprinkled in. I really don't have a dog in the "is Ben Reilly characterized well or not" fight; his heyday was before my time. I'd argue that whether this characterization is an evolution or a regression, the one thing it definitely isn't is deep. "Quondam hero breaks cartoonishly bad and goes through Big Dumb Crossover Event subsisting entirely on a diet of scenery," that's what I see here.

Though it might not be what the event needed, this issue's absurd humor really hit the spot for me. The plot doesn't advance very much, but the non-stop misnomers are enjoyable. The characters' reactions to them (and Madelyne's disappointment with Chasm) are even better. The art remains solid and this was an all-around fun read. Ben Reilly's plan may be a problem in a big-picture sense, though. He was already pretty short on menace, and coming off like a schmuck here might undercut him completely.

The pace is good, the art is nice, and though I wasn't laughing myself, I think the humor is done well. But the overall tone seesaws wildly, from the absurdity of Rek-Rap to the would-be pathos of Ben Reilly. This wants to be serious and silly at the same time. That's not impossible, but this isn't a good example of it. I find it both ironic and annoying that Madelyne Pryor's role in this event is completely contrived, yet her story is the best-handled.

This is a pretty solid start to an interlude arc. The creators are obviously talented--not working their fingers to the bone, but their experience shines through. As usual, Joe Kelly digs a touch too deep into premises that would be more palatable without the scrutiny. And though the Dodsons don't do so great with smaller panels or scene-setting, their skill in the splashier moments is undeniable. Not all-time great, but definitely good. And welcome at this point in the series.

Slapping in a slightly-significant Relationship Moment™ for Pete and Felicia gives this issue some sorely-needed weight. The script is focused on funny banter and the art is devoted to sexy splashes. What's missing from both sides of the storytelling is any sense of world-building, character development, or scene-setting that would make this conflict memorable. It's still a decent comic and a fun read, because the creators are very good at those things they're focusing on. But without that deeper work, this can't be more than an amusing diversion.

Ah, yes, "refer to this filler arc from 15 years ago"--exactly the sort of payoff I want after a twenty-issue tease. Saltiness aside, this arc hasn't lost me yet. But it hasn't engaged my enthusiasm, either. The storytelling's solid, but at least subjectively, the content remains poised on the fence. It could fall good or bad. Without knowing where the story's headed, I can't call this issue anything but average.

The arc is finally rolling and the plot unfolds in a satisfying, engaging manner. Some of the results are already predictable, but there's still value in finding out exactly how MJ gets from point a to point b. The storytelling is solid, in both words and art, but it's clear that the writer and artist were aiming to hit a little harder than they actually do. The visuals aren't as dynamic and dramatic as they could be, particularly in the final scene. The dialogue sounds natural and the pace is good--but none of the prose really sticks in my mind. It's a good comic, built on a good premise, and it makes for a fun read. But it's also haunted by the ghost of the better comic the creators wanted to make.

The script and the art do an excellent job keeping the pace red-lined, and this issue's strongest asset is a driving sense of urgency. We dip inside Pete's head just far enough to know he's panicking and to understand why. And that's another strength. Things happen so fast that I'm tempted to ignore how rock-stupid Peter is being--because the pace and the author's plans need him to be. But no, Pete has to burn all these bridges and turn to Norman Osborn for help, ASAP, because that's what Zeb Wells plotted out over a year ago. And that realization does take some of the shine off my reading experience.

Strictly serviceable storytelling speeds us along this flashback. While the tale's told well, it's unsurprising. Anti-surprising, really; all we're getting is exactly what we assumed had happened. Plus more Fantastic Four than we really needed or wanted. The one surprise is on the Ms. Marvel front, where I've been constantly vigilant and over-critical. The revelation that Kamala's been in this since before the time-skip at the start is a good thing by me. It makes her presence in this volume much less random, and I like that.

Let me lead with an observation I'm surprised hasn't been posted here yet: This premise turns out to be a retread of the Dimension Z monkeywrench Remender threw into his Captain America run. It's faster and shallower, and being imitative makes it even more disappointing. The final revelations are utterly predictable, but I rather like the storytelling. The extra length gives an appropriate weight to MJ's long exile. I think Kaare Andrews did a formidable job on the art. There's a distinct effort made to align with JRJR (mainly in character proportions), but also an impressive amount of stylistic variation to emphasize the passage of time. The explanation for MJ's kids is cowardly, but again, predictable if you're enough of a cynic (and I usually am). Zeb Wells painted himself into a corner, and this choice might be the least-bad of the all-bad options. Those kids' days are numbered, so it's for the best that they're adopted. (At least I hope those kids' days are numbered; I'd hate to see them sticking around like Ian Rogers.) The backup strip is a nice little pick-me-up. Trust Rainbow Rowell to take an old joke ("How does Spidey get around in the suburbs?") and breathe life into it with smart details. It's sentimental and lightweight, but not unpleasant--like a well-executed souffle. I thought Álvaro López did some daring stuff with the art, too, swinging big at situations you don't normally see Spider-Man (or Felicia Hardy) put in.

It's a good-definitely-not-great comic that does something I hate, but does it with some skill. Thus, 6 out of 10. First, the positives: The whole scope of the story is clear now, and it's pretty dang good. It took too long to make the journey, but all the steps are rational in hindsight. The issue itself is paced well, building relentless tension. The art is chunky and short on detail, but it does powerful visual storytelling with great clarity. Kamala's sacrifice, much as I hate it, is carried out well. She dies nobly, with her own "great responsibility"-equivalent motto on her lips, and she Pieta-s into the arms of Spider-Man, the 20th-century Marvel hero who is her closest analogue. Now, the subjective negatives: I hate this. I hate Kamala dying abruptly, in an alley, in someone else's story, surrounded by strangers. Most of all, I hate the disappointing blip it throws in the character's history: "Yeah, Kamala sacrificed herself to save an innocent woman and the world." "Wow, that must have been a huge moment in her comic." "Um…actually, it was the end of a mediocre arc in a forgettable run of Spider-Man. But it did give sorely-needed weight to a floundering story!" "Wow, what the hell?" Future Ms. Marvel stans are going to want to know about her death. And that'll oblige them to slog through a too-tall stack of shabby Spidey comics to reach this disappointing understanding: Kamala dies a noble, poignant death. But it's a brief, peripheral part of Spider-Man's story, *and it's virtually meaningless to hers*. And finally, a flippant aside: After reading #25 I said those kids' days were numbered, but *damn*.

"Blockchain of consciousness." That'll age well. There's a good excuse for the slow place, but it's still slow. The excuse is, this issue is mostly talking about feelings. Lots of remorse. But if the emotions are strong, they're far from unique. Just within this volume it feels like we've done "Norman is genuinely remorseful and Pete is surprised to find he believes him" too often. This introspective issue lands on a good slot on the artist carousel. Better Ed McGuinness than JRJR when emotions come to the fore. His tormented faces are over-the-top and melodramatic--which actually suits the script. Editor Nick Lowe has an interesting response on the letters page, in which he defends this volume's decompression. He says they're shooting for "maximum emotion at the risk of quantity of story." It's a pretty big risk, considering how subjective emotional impact is and how much trouble this author has had eliciting it.

It's a pretty well-crafted story. The art is strong and bright and fun, and the comedy is sharp. The basic premise of Otto upgrading his tentacles and having some villainous fun with them is sound. But in the same way that Otto's actions drive the plot, his characterization sets the tone. And that tone is distressingly simplistic. Forgive me for always approaching this title on the same line of attack, but… Less than a month ago, this title killed Kamala Khan. And this is what it was for? To pit Spidey against a cardboard-flat Doc Ock in a story that's best suited for a Saturday morning cartoon?

This issue employs the standard tricks of the volume to the best possible effect. The big plot developments are finally revealed, allowing the story to chug towards a confrontation. It pauses along the way for funny or cool moments; in this instance, these pay off better in the art than the words. It's cathartic to be in motion. But even in motion, there are frustrating hints of deeper meaning that the author is neglecting in favor of a laborious, simplistic plot. Pete hesitating to interface with Otto's arms; Otto suspecting he's lost a memory of redemption--I want to see more than hints that these things exist. Maybe the creators shy away from digging too deeply because even the hints make it clear where they're headed. Otto's heroic memories are buried deep in Peter's mind, and that Beyond helmet will wind up transferring them so that we have a quasi-heroic Otto again instead of this sneering cartoon villain.

It's an average comic, but it could have been a good comic with a little assertive editing to force Mat Johnson to tie the plot threads together properly. Also: "Hey, Web-Head, you know how you can hear it when people don't pronounce your hyphen? I feel the same way when people stick an inappropriate 'Y' in my code name." Respect the "Boi" in Koi Boi, Spiderman!

While Uatu Jackson fills Spidey in about the knockoff webbing, the Bugle reporters connect important dots that point toward the Kingpin as the main antagonist. It's a decent plot, but being rendered in short, choppy scenes does it no favors. The art is also struggling: Mack Chater seems to have an anti-talent when it comes to drawing distinctive protagonists.

It's a Spidey anthology packed with anthology-grade work. Nostalgia for one or more of the "grandmaster" creators involved is the only reason to pick this up, and if you peep over the top of your rose-colored glasses, I think you'll agree that these fellers are doing sound-but-unspectacular storytelling at best. On Ralph Macchio's 21st-century work: I grouse and I downrate, but there is something pretty cool about a Bullpen veteran putting out new, simple comics suitable for the very youngest Marvelites.

Annie cements her place as a permanent part of the crime-fighting family. This is a glorious, uncomplicated, pure example of superheroing. Just great folks bashing horrible villains and exchanging smart words while they do it. It's a very kid-friendly title, and that might end up holding it back at some point in the future. For now, though, it anchors the action in a wonderfully simple but not at all disappointing way.

Is a little thing like a Sandman bank robbery going to ruin Parker Family Fun Night? Don't bet on it. Artist Nathan Stockman puts his own, cartoonier stamp on the proceedings, and the result is a tremendously satisfying story in its own right that also nudges ongoing plotlines forward. Some fans say this series is great because it reunites Peter Parker and MJ in marital bliss. Respectfully, they're missing the forest for the trees. This is a wonderful story told with immense skill, and that does far more to make this title great than any "pander to the base" changes in continuity.

Annie at the Xavier School? The Parkers don't agree on it, and Magneto is gonna have something to say on the subject too. The two parts of this book - Parker family adventure and AU X-Men world-building - aren't quite fused seamlessly. The narrative wobbles back and forth between the two goals. The result is a cut above the ordinary, but the joints could have been sanded and smoothed a little better to make this truly epic. Ryan Stegman's linework looks a little rushed but his layouts are impeccable.

Annie's adventures with the X-Men wrap up in a fast but thoughtful way. The elder Parkers fight their way through a lot of evil mutants, but pride of place in this story goes to Annie's fascinating conversation with the traitor Jubilee. Little Spiderling has a solid head on her shoulders and an impeccable moral compass, and even if she doesn't attend Xavier's her future looks bright. The issue has strong art throughout but it's the stellar dialogue that really cements its place at the top of the heap.

Liz Allan bamboozles MJ into accepting the Venom symbiote a bit too easily. The fastest way to get your "Venomized MJ" story started is to make MJ a total idiot, and I'm afraid that Gerry Conway and Ryan Stegman didn't stray too far from that sad path. The good news is, aside from disappointing characterization, this is an excellent comic. The visuals are particularly impressive and this storyline promises to deliver plenty of memorable action. If only it weren't dependent on forcing MJ to carry the Idiot Ball!

Peter does some rather clumsy detective work before finally confronting the evil symbiote that's swallowed his wife. It's a very Pete-centric story and a very safe one; there are some tiny twists of novelty to add some distinction. Juan Frigeri does a decent if somewhat under-detailed job of filling Ryan Stegman's artistic shoes while he shifts to handling the script. His dialogue falls short of memorable but the plot is nicely paced. It also fits like a Tetris piece into a larger Osborn-centric story that makes the coming issues easy to look forward to.

Normie Osborn's birthday brings Lizard fights and an unfortunate encounter with Spider-Man and Spiderling. Exposure to a healthy parent-child relationship doesn't help Normie's state of mind. This issue is paced decently and full of action, but there's a simplicity to the plot and characterization that compares poorly to the depth of Gerry Conway's scripts. Some clumsy artifice is used to shuffle MJ off-stage for this issue. Nathan Stockman's art works well for an all-ages comic. It'd be nice if he explored more complex line-weight options, though; this book looks like it was drawn entirely with a single technical pen.

"Business as usual" for the Spider Family turns into "climactic showdown with Normie Osborn" with impressive speed and drama. Brian Level's art is simple but strong, and Ryan Stegman's script is all-around good. Normie subjects Annie to some slightly-too-generic villain monologuing, but her brilliant responses are the highlight of the issue. Even outside those epic moments, the general quality of the story is quite high, and this is definitely an above-average read.

The day gets saved and Normie Osborn is redeemed mainly via the power of friendship. While the conclusion is satisfying, both the words and visuals are mighty simplistic and it's really only the continued commitment to developing the characters well that pulls this above average. Throwing in a last-minute age-up also guarantees that future arcs will have a different tone than these first 12 issues. Considering how great these stories have been (particularly at the start), messing with the formula so dramatically seems unwise.

Peter and MJ have apparently been in suspended animation for 8 years while Annie has turned into a stereotypical moody teen. Jody Houser's script is slow and safe and over-generic; Nick Roche's art is cartoony and rushed. His Peter Parker is particularly painful. This simplistic station-keeping exercise recognizes the promise of Renew Your Vows and debatably preserves it, but it seems too terrified to do anything constructive with it.

The hero conflict of the current arc - the Lizard running amok at Coney Island - turns into a misunderstanding brawl in the "no, see, I need your help" mode that is pretty much Curt Conners's signature schtick. The bulk of the comic is an MJ-centric flashback that is an awful lot - too much - like a rehash of last year's #2. It feels like the editors are *daring* us to keep paying $4 per issue while they dial the creative quality down to the lower notches of the "Infinite comics" zone. I certainly wouldn't dare; even though I'm reading this via Marvel Unlimited I feel a little ripped off. Jody Houser's script is stronger than Nick Roche's art, but that's about the faintest, most damning praise possible.

The Lizard leads the Spider-family to a mystery villain. After two issues of questionable work on Peter and MJ, Jody Houser suddenly reveals that she's AMAZING at writing Annie. Her voice is more engaging, her insights are fresher, her story is genuinely interesting. Based on the creative team's performance so far, I'm hoping that future stories de-emphasize the parents A LOT and focus on Annie. She even picks up a long-term nemesis here. This issue is exactly the burst of quality I needed to stay interested in this series.

Annie's school year starts with classmate supervillainy and the unwelcome surprise that her dad has taken a teaching position at her school. The script retains the surprisingly strong grip on Annie's point of view revealed in the last issue. MJ doesn't get much of a chance to shine; circumstances force her into sitcom-mom-ery. I love the super-subtle insight buried in Peter's monologuing, though: Peter Parker is an attachment parent because his parents died when he was super-young. That makes all the sense. This plot is packed with potential. Though the art tends toward cartoony caricature, it's also terrific at expressing emotion.

Annie tries to shape her newly-powered classmates' heroic journeys on her own. The narrative divide between daughter and parents deepens in good ways; this is almost entirely Annie's story. The cartoony art is still expressive and the script delivers both a compelling plot and engaging dialogue. This story feels skewed toward younger audiences, but it's far too well done to alienate grown-ups.

Annie's parents have their say but then let Spiderling resolve her classmates' mess on her own. It's a simple story with journeyman art. The final product is elevated significantly by a well-organized script that hits good emotional notes. It does leave two loose plot threads; one is definitely intentional foreshadowing but the other feels more like an oversight. The latter - who started Lacey down the path to vengeance? - would have been a perfect opportunity to involve Spidey and MJ in the story as more than "Leave it to Beaver" parents if this went on longer. Here's hoping that future stories can do better at integrating the whole family into the action.

An entertaining but pond-shallow flashback shows what Peter and MJ got up to on a super-rare romantic getaway 8 years back. A few Mark 1 Heartwarming Moments liven up the "low-hanging fruit" comedy. This isn't disappointing, but it's heavily non-essential. Some rough, sketchy art seals in the averageness.

Haywire spider-sense leads Annie into conflict with an evil doppelganger. Her dad's one step behind her in puzzling out the mystery. A few sparkles of promise - particularly in characterization, particularly in Logan - are counterbalanced by a by-the-numbers plot and some art that's frankly not ready for prime-time.

The Spider-family is united in unraveling Annie's mystery of the knockoff Spiders. Formidable character work and a solid plot are big pluses. The art straddles the plus-minus column. The emoting faces in the front are outstanding; the action in the final act is ROUGH. This is really close to being a good comic, but the visuals aren't quite up to par. Getting better, though!

The Spider-Family defeats their evil doppelgangers, rescues Damsel Normie, and draws a bead on the big villain. The script combines quietly decent characterization with a formulaic plot; its overall quality level can't get much past average at best. Nothing special though it be, the script is still leagues ahead of the art, which is deep in the depths of DILLIGAF territory. The basic panel layouts are decent, but posing, polishing, and details are all woefully free of effort. Every part of this comic at least whispers "this could be done better," but most of the art is positively shouting it.

The Parkers rush off to the X-Mansion to have a big showdown with Sinister's mutate army. Everything comes out OK, but the story is overloaded with parallel plot threads. They all have merit, but they're not organized or prioritized well. It's also a problem that all three Parkers are fighting for narrator duty. Peter wins, but his daughter is a close second. MJ's contribution really just muddies the waters. The art remains disappointing, but in a consistent, low-key, "meets expectations after pushing them too far down" way.

Venom is literally torn between Eddie Brock and Flash Thompson, starting a satisfying conflict that I've been wanting to see since the end of Venom: Space Knight. The roles for Spidey and lower-billed guest stars are still a little opaque, but this kickoff gives the story a promising start. I respect the quality of Ryan Stegman's art here. I can see that he's tweaking his personal style to line up with Gerardo Sandoval, who'll be illustrating the other half of the crossover. While Mr. Sandoval isn't one of my favorites, the effort Mr. Stegman makes to meet him halfway is impressive.

Maniac grows to kaiju proportions before getting put down with a solid serving of teamwork. Flash Thompson is the biggest of big winners here. Eddie Brock also gets a healthy attaboy and there's even a hint that the Black Cat might finally be done with her stupid stint as a crime-lord. This crossover went through some very rough patches, but it wraps up in fine style. Slanting the creative duties *heavily* toward Dan Slott and Ryan Stegman helped *a lot.* Let's all just say a little prayer that this is the last we see of Lee Price for a good long time.

America tackles big life changes and the tension between being a superhero and a fallible human. Those bones could serve as the foundation for a good comic. Instead, author Gabby Rivera designed this book as an internet controversy generator first and a compelling story second - if at all. When it comes to provoking thought or entertaining or empowering readers, this comic fails utterly. America fans who enjoy this are putting in way more work than the author is. They deserve so much better. So does artist Joe Quinones; he's wasted on this title.

America learns tiny lessons from Peggy Carter and Moon Girl and completely misses more important hints about the value of family. This issue chiseled some ratings points out of me through sheer volume of content. It smooshes two terrible comics' worth of ideas into one, which makes it efficient if not well-paced. There's interesting plot development; it's a pity Gabby Rivera flubs a lot of individual scenes. On the characterization front, I'm asking myself an interesting question: Rivera's America is a jerk, but would I think she was so much of a jerk if she was a white dude behaving the exact same way? This issue had me questioning my privilege, so I think it accomplished at least one of its goals. It's still failing abysmally in the "tell me an entertaining story" department, though.

America's mystery abuela/ancestor/future self/whatever, Madrimar, guides her through a meditation session with Storm to unlock subtler aspects of her dimension-hopping powers. While it's cool to see America discovering her capacity and need for growth, I had better not hold my breath waiting for someone to point out the potential drawbacks of America's "stay the ☠☠☠ out my way unless you're a badass brown bitch like me" attitude. Her growth is happening mainly in a "you're so awesome, be even awesomer!" fashion. Sigh. Storm is ridiculously out of character, but she's being steered by Madrimar. Weird observation: Gabby Rivera's scripting improves when she's *not* working with Joe Quinones. Guest artist Stacey Lee's Storm section is by a wide margin the strongest part of the issue, but it's due to better writing rather than any major improvement in art quality.

America uses the lessons Madrimar has taught her to revisit issue #1 and save Maltixa properly. No, she doesn't see any wider applications or express any gratitude. She also causes an unresolved time-travel paradox that everybody ignores. This comic fails on so many levels that it gets hard to critique. You can't tell which ideas are inherently bad and which are just poorly executed. Despite being America's greatest advocate, Gabby Rivera has managed to craft an outcome for America that the character herself finds confusing and irritating. Far be it from us readers to feel differently. The artist pool, despite being crowded (five people total handling pencils, inks, and colors), manages to produce some impressively consistent mediocrity.

America calls on Kate Bishop to roadtrip to an ex-girlfriend with her. The foreshadowing on America's next antagonist goes from "fairly subtle" to "screamingly obvious" over the course of the issue. I can see the aim of the dialogue and characterization was some sort of Tom Robbins/Diablo Cody modern-day Age of Aquarius feel, but it turns out sad and try-hard. Like Tom and Diablo were whacked up on prescription tranquilizers and only allowed one slow, low-energy, no-editing pass at their collaborative script. Ramon Villalobos's art flirts occasionally with the memorable, but his refusal to be consistent even with himself when it comes to character designs is off-putting.

Madrimar says the One Thing that can short-circuit America's "get out of my life already" refrain while they team up to save the day. Also, it's driven home to us readers that the Big Bad here is the Exterminatrix, but the actual characters in the comic are still running behind on working that out. Solid intentions meet inept execution all over the book, with Ramon Villalobos getting closer to "acceptably professional" work than Gabby Rivera. Her plotting is almost tolerable, but the nuts-and-bolts dialogue-wrangling is still loathsome.

America's abuela Madrimar gifts her with a double-secret double-latina double-lesbian origin that drapes around her existing backstory like a pointless onion layer. To me the best part of this title is the fact that *America herself* finds this new granny and her crazy Gabby Rivera wish-fulfillment ret-cons irritating, but that's surely unintentional. The vast art team covers the bases from "nearly competent" to "not even close," rendering the visuals just as appealing as the story here. This is about as close as this title can get to entertaining and it's woefully far from the mark. At least the Exterminatrix is sneering around the last page promising something resembling actual conflict in the coming issues.

The Exterminatrix throws on a platinum blonde wig and goes undercover as Sotomayor University's new Dolores Umbridge-type dean. SU's supposed to be a school for the multidimensional best and brightest, but since Gabby Rivera's actually peopled it with notably dumb versions of America and Prodigy, a painful self-insert character (X'Andria), a single professor without real characterization, and a faceless herd of non-entities, the Exterminatrix's dictatorial upheaval and persecution of America go practically unopposed. A functional plot and some excellent art by Joe Quinones are the silver linings; against them, you've got some eyeball-searing costume choices and some of the dumbest dialogue ever published in Marvel Comics. There's dense, multi-layered stupidity packed into every ☠☠☠☠ line uttered by America and her pals; this script is truly a blooming onion of dumb. Hilarious bonus: This issue has Legacy pages by Robbie Thompson and David Lopez that function *perfectly* with the assumption that America's solo series does not and never did exist.

As the Exterminatrix goes overt with her plans to weaponize America and ruin Sotomayor U, the supporting cast goes to war with her. And America? Here's a comprehensive list of what she does in issue #9 of the comic named after her: 1. Fails to escape from the Exterminatrix. 2. Runs away after getting freed by her witchy professor. 3. Curls up in a fetal ball while her supporting cast (AKA the characters we *really* don't care about) starts saving the day. Heroism! Flaviano's earnest but not wholly successful artwork and the fundamental strength of the Exterminatrix as a classic scenery-chewing baddy save this from being a total trainwreck. Wow, is it ever not a good comic, though.

America deigns to do a little heroing in order to ensure the Exterminatrix is defeated and the forces of groovy diversity and ancestral goodness win the Battle of Sotomayor U. ("Ancestral" is one of Gabby Rivera's favorite words; weird.) There's still a ridiculously overblown role for X'Andria to play, of course. Gotta keep plenty of spotlight on the Mary Sue. Some strong artistic efforts by Flaviano and Jen Bartel are positives; their benefits are wiped out (and then some) by shameful first-draft Valley Girl dialogue and an embarrassingly inept swipe at the tiki-torch-waving alt-right.

After Prodigy and X'Andria make a very muddled victory speech, America blasts off to save Planeta Fuertona from the generic alien parasite-bugs of La Legion. This new story launches with some superb character design work courtesy of Stacey Lee and some slightly promising mythology, but cramming all of this into the series' last two issues is a serious mistake. It feels like Gabby Rivera is at last arriving at the story she *wants* to tell. Unfortunately, Marvel let her get here by publishing 10 spastic issues of unappealing groundwork instead of working it all out in a few hours of brainstorming and editorial conferencing. The page where America actually leaves Sotomayor U is paradigmatic of the whole series and its problems: America delivers trite "honor your unique story" narration while her supporting cast looks up at her adoringly and thinks "take care of yourself" thoughts. They don't actually *talk* to each other. Are these characters admirable? Of course they are! Just look at their good intentions! What do you want, for them to *demonstrate* their virtue? Ugh, how bourgeoisie.

America saves the day by being her extra-special extra-wonderful self. Normally you'd need to delve into the darkest depths of fanfiction to find wish-fulfillment this embarrassingly shameless. Why Marvel's editors chose to ennoble this silliness with 12 issues of good-to-great art is one of the biggest comics mysteries of 2017-2018. This final issue delivers a fair crop of individual panels that are pretty. There are even some nice bits of dialogue. Progressing through the story from idea to idea is torturous, though. It's like wading through a gauntlet of naive kiddos pummelling you with glitter-soaked wiffle bats. To tell a story, you have to show your protagonist making decisions. If your protagonist's key decision amounts to, "You're right, adoring fans, I WOULD make a good messiah," your story is probably not good.

America's powers are on the fritz, and a Mystery Antagonist is taking a run at her heretofore-unseen adoptive family in Washington Heights. The art is great and the writing is satisfactory so far. This script has captured my attention, but future issues will need to work a little harder to get me truly engaged.

In the present, America's mystery antagonist easily sucks her into a trap that promises plenty of fascinating revelations in future issues. In the past, we see America's development into a superhero and the estrangement from her adoptive family that comes with it. The story threads are nicely balanced against each other, and a consistently engaging insight into America's character is the glue that binds it all into a satisfying read. Some rock-solid art with a high degree of polish helps, too.

America's abductor claims to be a long-lost younger sister, and she gets down to the business of trying to sell the hero a less-fantastical (yet still subtly magical) version of her origin. The sisters' conflict is relieved with flashbacks to their moms' experiences, lending the weight of narrative authority to the sister's claims. It's drawn beautifully and the ideas are intriguing; I'm way more engaged than I thought I'd be with "mundane-ing down" America Chavez's backstory. The dialogue winds up being mighty expository to get all those ideas out, though.

America comes to accept her revised origin story, but that doesn't mean she'll join her sister or let her continue her exploitative experiments. It's a simple, maybe melodramatic story, but it's told with consummate skill. The way the plot developments are linked into the characters is excellent, and the art is stunning stuff. And a strong stand against "the ends justify the means" philosophy is always a safe bet for a hero.

America resolves her conflict with her sister in a way that's short-term satisfying and long-term messy. This story was told well right up to the finish, particularly in its beautiful visuals. I'm not thrilled with the number of curveballs and complications there are in America's backstory and status quo now, though. Whatever creators take her out next, they've got a lot of cleanup to do. But the character was treated well enough here to make me eager to see what comes next.

The "Blastaar & Annihilus play battlefield Odd Couple" prologue went on far too long for me.

Nova's little chunk of Scourge is marked by some outstanding teeth-clenched teamwork with Annihilus, some important plot developments, and the disturbing implication that Richard Rider is a full-blown alcoholic now. I like the first, am neutral to the second, and dislike the third, which seems par for the course for this event. It's a mix of soft "hoorahs" and moderate eyeball-rollers, balancing out toward unfortunate average-ness. Some solid art and the best of the Nova/Annihilus banter tipped the scale toward enjoyability for me here, though.

As everybody else has noted, Beta Ray Bill and Lockjaw make a cracking good team. And I like the subtle way the Scourge story is evolving in the background here and in the Silver Surfer issue, with N-Zone folks starting to break into the Positive Zone in both. It does make me wonder about the fight mechanics, though: Bill fought his Revenger in the ordinary universe -- shouldn't that make him unkillable?

This issue's art is jaw-dropping, and it's a real lesson in the power the visual side of the creative team can wield. If Scourge had kicked off with even half as much artistic horsepower as this issue, I probably would have been a fan from day one.

"It's mostly a buncha space gibberish, now that I think about it." Between Scourge and 2099, hopefully, Marvel has learned that "no miniseries only tie-ins" is not the recipe for a successful event.

Scott Lang cages a lift home from Nadia Van Dyne, and as is his wont, he messes it up. The result is both of them stranded in the Microverse. They find an intriguing (albeit slightly generic sci-fi) mystery down there. Unfortunately, Nadia slots too neatly into orbit around Scott as he slides into the Real Protagonist role. The art also has its limitations. Individual panels are very beautiful, but conveying action - both physical motion and plot progression - is problematic. It's still a fun read and well above average, though.

Blind Nadia accidentally kaiju-s a microbe civilization while Scott is failing to fix her eyes. The story works surprisingly well splitting its attention between Nadia and the mad scientist microbe working to stop her. And extended flashbacks to Nadia's origin are made plot-relevant in a clever way. Mark Waid finds yet another excuse to make Nadia cry. It's a REALLY GOOD excuse, but I'm tired of the tears. The microbe-scientist portion of the story features wonderfully daring art. It takes a lot of visual imagination to make horrifying multi-mouth amoebas into compelling characters, but it's done successfully here.

Dalen the paramecium scientist is folded into the hero crew. Their escape from Dalen's fellow Saargs is excellent, but then the story nose-dives into some unsatisfying "Microverse physics = magic #%$* without warning" twists. They're not terrible, but they pile up so quickly that the art struggles to keep up. There's still plenty to love here: The tiny Microverse ant-equivalents that Scott befriends are adorable.

Scott and Nadia technobabble their way to what looks like but of course is not their home. They realize the too-good-to-be-trueness just in time and keep on adventuring. The visuals here hit a very high standard, but the overall effect is undercut by a pair of splash pages that are blatant conservation of artistic effort. This was really close to good, but I'm still too prickled by the ongoing treatment of Nadia as a second-class protagonist due to her age and sex. Of course she's got a REASON not to be on point - the fakeout Earth offers up the father figure she desperately wants - but that's exactly how marginalization works: How compelling the reasons are is less important than the fact that the reasons are always there. Somehow, even though he's an amorphous blob of teeth, Burr reads as male and therefore gets to contribute ahead of Nadia. And Scott leaping to paternal nicknames for Nadia ("sweetheart" and "honey") is kinda gross.

Scott and Nadia wrap up their quantum adventure. Once again, Nadia's job is to spit up technobabble and wait for Scott to recombine bits of it into a street-smart "outside the box" solution. Grr. And, of course, Nadia has to cry one last time, double grr. I also wasn't a fan of the "Subatomica weirdness" getting illustrated as "general Marvel meta-gags" instead of the blend of Scott-and-Nadia-specific memories that Nadia suggests it should be. I don't think either of them have spent nearly enough time around the X-Men to justify all the mutant jokes, for example. Plus side, the meta-gags are funny in themselves - they blip through Swimsuit Special World for a panel - and the overall visual standards are sky high. The final pages are tops for heartwarming, too.

Scott Lang slides into Hank Pym's shoes to sequelize a Silver Age story about parallel-dimension rebels. It's a tale told with serviceable art and a tiny, encouraging sliver of modern characterization. For the most part, though, it dives a bit too gleefully into aping the simplistic storytelling of Stan Lee in cruise-control mode 55 years ago.

Scott Lang is heavy on the loser these days, living in an ant hill and disappointing his daughter. A humble job rescuing bees leads into bigger adventures. Some solid humor and a compelling plot are the highlights. I'm lukewarm on the art; I like it a lot better when folks are helmeted.

Scott survives his first brush with the bug overlord, MacroThrax, relying to an embarrassing degree on support from Swarm. It's a nice, straightforward superhero vs. supervillain setup. The cutaway scene to Cassie is kind of wedged in, but I'm confident that she has a more relevant role to play in future issues. On the art front, I'm caught in a contradictory position: I can recognize that outstanding visual storytelling is going on, but I'm just not impressed with this style of character rendering.

Cassie deconstructing the Ant-Man-Black-Cat-Spider-Man dynamic was both necessary and heartwarming. It was a little expository, but the benefits heavily outweighed the drawbacks.

Cassie leads the charge to pursue Macrothrax and retrieve the Pym Particles he stole, but (naturally in a penultimate issue) the heroes fail to save the day just yet. It's a brisk adventure story and it shows the destruction of Scott's anthill with surprising poignancy. Not as comedic as previous issues, but it proves that when your character work is on point, it's no problem to carry your audience from comedy to drama.

The climactic battle features a nice balance between Cassie and Scott; this is definitely a family win. The plot's simple, but the character work is impeccable. When it comes to the splashy action-packed finale, Dylan Burnett's cartoony art fits the story perfectly.

Take my rating and review with a big grain of bias-salt. I'm a huge Silver Age dork; Al Ewing and Tom Reilly may as well have cooked this up in their narrative meth lab for the express purpose of getting me addicted. How big an SA dork am I? Big enough to know that "Namor put the Fantastic Four in a movie" isn't a random joke; it's the actual factual plot of FF #9. Big enough to tell that Mr. Reilly isn't imitating 1960s art in general, he's specifically imitating Don Heck, who drew most of the referenced Ant-Man strips. I love the flashback story in execution as well as premise. It strikes a perfect balance. This is *exactly* how absurd and stupid and low-stakes Ant-Man's adventures (and adversaries) were in the early 60s. The art and writing could often be a good 30% shabbier than this issue's storytelling, though; this is like an idealized and remastered edition of Tales to Astonish. And the frame story is some top-notch Al Ewing timey-wimey craziness, easily weird and captivating enough to hammer home the hook and make sure I'm following this series all the way through.

It's another fun, beautifully-illustrated chapter pulling another Ant-Man into the still-mysterious big-picture plot. Like #1, this one features plenty of storytelling nods to the bygone era of the original: endless wisecracking, Bendis-ian pop culture comedy, lots of tiny panels, and beat panels galore! And like #1, these talented creators deliver an homage that's also an excellent story in its own right. I'm continuing to love this series.

I love this to pieces, but not so much as to overlook the fact that the rest of the issue isn't as good as the Black Ant fight scene, my favorite part. There's an awful lot of exposition to chew through before that. The art's fantastic, but I think perhaps the previous issues were even more visually impressive. I'll rate it as next door to great.

Limited series so often end on a disappointing note. That makes it an extra-pleasant surprise when this one sticks the landing as hard as a Soviet gymnast. The plot wraps up in a neat, pre-planned bow, and the core conflict of the issue is plenty of fun. Most impressive to me is the way the creators manage to preserve each Ant-Man's distinctive voice and look (most obvious with Silver Age Hank). Mixing them all together like this is a very delicate job, and these creators do it perfectly.

Angela assembles a team of Thor-connected misfits and sets them on a path to their own little Ragnarok struggle. This roster has a lot of promise, which makes it disappointing to see the script prioritize a slightly "meh" plot ahead of character work. The art shows a lot of refined talent but also a lot of shortcuts. This feels like a cruise-control effort ennobled by a terrific premise - a pretty enjoyable read, but it looks like it's going to miss a lot of opportunities.

A brief incarceration with the Nova Corps gives the Asgardians a chance for quality characterization before the action resumes with a vengeance. This issue strikes a terrific balance between character and plot development, finally delivering the "cool characters doing cool stuff" payoff this title was made for.

The team tears into the War of the Realms and it's more glorious and gorgeous than I ever would have expected. Past issues cranked my expectations to the bottom of the barrel and had me second-guessing my rating, but #8 really is that good. Snappy dialogue, killer action, gorgeous art, sound character work, and tight stitching pulling it into the event. What drawbacks there are are incredibly minor, like Heimdall's intro being a little too long. Go in expecting a simple, full-bore fight issue and you absolutely will not be disappointed.

The artist change-up combined with Cullen Bunn's subtle approach to characterization makes it hard to maintain consistent interest in this title. Like, is this REALLY the same story as #8? My head says yes but my heart has its doubts.

Argh, this finale was dramatic enough to deserve more in the way of poetry and spectacle. It's hamstrung by storytelling that's merely decent.

Charles Soule's script uses the Shadow King as an excuse to team up some of Marvel's very best "don't play well with others" mutants. The author has a good read on his characters, and there are some keenly-anticipated roster surprises still to come. This title *finally* pays off the "back to basics" idea of ResurreXion in a wholly satisfying way. Jim Cheung's pencils are unbelievably gorgeous, but he's just the "start with a bang" introduction to the artist carousel. A constantly-rotating art team - even one staffed with Marvel's very best top-shelf artists - may end up being a problem.

The X-Men dive into the Astral Plane and pat themselves on the back for working out that they're pawns in a larger game. We readers get a closer peek at the Xavier vs. Farouk struggle, and the stakes are *far* higher than the mutants suspect so far. Charles Soule's script wraps some solid, freaky plot twists in a thin candy shell of meta humor. On the visual side, Mike Deodato hammers complex collages out of rather simplistic elements. His usual chromatic conspirator, Frank Martin, expends a lot of effort to deliver an unfortunately muddy result; art and colors combine to make the Astral Plane look like a murky, messy place to visit.

A brilliant character study of Old Man Logan rubs shoulders with more Astral Plane mysteries and a nasty police/mutant standoff in London. Charles Soule does a great job of examining OML through the lens of Xavier; it's a pity the character is highly overexposed right now. This issue is remarkably close to being a one-shot, smoothly integrating just enough background into the story to welcome new readers without slowing down the pace. The art is workable, but this issue isn't going into Ed McGuinness's greatest hits portfolio.

The Shadow King claims another hero, but Professor X gets to make his presence felt outside the Astral Plane. This felt like over-development of a few simple plot points. Carlos Pacheco's art does decent storytelling, but it's arbitrarily different - it has a personal style, but that style doesn't feel impressive enough to justify the countless little changes in how these characters are being portrayed. This is probably a negative synergy effect; it's only in combination with each other that this particular script and these particular visuals feel disappointing. And slight disappointments aside, this is still a pretty fascinating, above-average read.

While conditions in London sink from "bad" to "holy ☠☠☠☠ bad," Professor X charts out his retaliatory plans. A lot of threads are developing in parallel, with Xavier conducting multiple simultaneous conversations while also fighting the Shadow King. It's a tricky onion of a plot, and it's so complex that there's really no space left for character work. Ramon Rosanas's art is just capable of living up to Charles Soule's script and divvying up the multiple plot threads into a quality reading experience. Kudos to Mr. Soule for another meta-textual gag that makes this story into the thinking reader's answer to the execrable Mojo Worldwide crossover happening in Blue and Gold: Xavier implies with exquisite subtlety that the last few years of X-Men stories (the O5 team and M-Pox, specifically) are just echoes of the Xavier/Farouk conflict playing out on the Astral Plane.

Xavier turns the tables on the Shadow King and things start looking better for our heroes - but why is this victory less than complete? And that there at the end, can that really be … ? A fascinating plot unfolds like a flower, and Mike del Mundo's art makes it look a very pretty blossom. There's an undeniable bit of clinical detachment and distance from the characters that holds this issue off of all-time greatness, though. It's A Thing That's Happening and it's surely impressive, but there's no real feeling that it's all that Important to the people it's happening to. That's despite the definitely sky-high stakes involved in the conflict. This is a blast to read but probably not destined for later recall.

The reborn "Xavier" consolidates his position in a way that's more ominous than reassuring, and a fresh crisis rears its head. Charles Soule has a good plot and some interesting character developments, but this series is still dogged by a weird sense of inconsequentiality, like we're gonna wake up at the end and discover it was all just an AU dream. Phil Noto's art is a little sketchy but extremely attractive. I like this hard-lined style better than the softer stuff Mr. Noto has shown in his last few Marvel books.

The definite ominousness of the new "X" takes a backseat to the more immediate ominousness of Proteus. In theory, this comic should be ratcheting up the tension, but the actual effect is a little "meh." It takes a lot of pages to reassemble the team, gives too many characters a chance to express suspicion regarding "X," and delivers an over-thorough Proteus 101 class for those of us who aren't graduate scholars in X-Man-ology. The art is highly polished but also stiff and stereotypical; this is a laborious but cold reproduction of cutting-edge comics art ca. 2002. This issue manages to sustain interest but it doesn't really deliver a payoff, shocking final-page twist notwithstanding.

Proteus slips away to set up a freaky-deaky eden while the X-Men slooowly save Psylocke and X. This is a two-clause comic, and the simplicity of the plot isn't counterbalanced by meaty characterization or pretty art. As other commenters have noted, this story rolls along and the X-Men just watch it. Their characters are barely expressed by their words and actions, most of which are too reactive.

The X-Men fall into Proteus's reality-optional garden and he has a snotty philosophical conversation with X. The stars here are, of course, ACO's eye-poppingly intense layouts. There's plenty of imagination and polish invested in the art, but these images are built on flimsy bones. Characterization, plot developments, philosophical depth - they're all pretty lacking. This seems chronic across ACO's career. Does he have a fetish for shallow scripts? Or do they naturally gravitate toward his very flashy, very "capable of concealing weakness" style?

The X-Men take down Proteus, but like clockwork, a twist reveals a Bigger Bad waiting to ratchet up the stakes even further. I like the plot developments, but I can also see that the character work is mighty weak. The art is sort of the reverse: The characters are drawn very well, but the settings are forgettable. It's a bit above average, but it just doesn't have enough oomph to get into must-read territory. I'm disappointed to see the "Rogue tries to power-drain a ridiculously big baddie and needs backstopping from another mutant" scene played out again. Cf. No Surrender and especially X-Men Gold for other recent examples. I can't hold it too hard against this issue's creators; they didn't invent the cliche. They're undeniably guilty of using it, though!

The finale of this whole long arc wants to have its cake and eat it, too. The Shadow King is defeated and Xavier is back - and the storytelling talents used to handle both developments manage to squash any enthusiasm you might have for either. A broad mindwipe for most of the X-Men involved really seals in the shaggy dog-ness of the story. The art is a fairly strong invocation of a style I don't much like, and as other reviewers have noted, its heavy use of splash panels seems to be compensating for a scarcity of plot.

Havok is in maximum "adorable screwup a la Fraction's Hawkeye" mode as he slooooowly begins building a team of outcast X-Men. That will, no doubt, unlock a bunch of Matthew Rosenberg's fun/familiar team snark in future issues. Speaking of refined but thoroughly generic work: This arc is also saddled with some of Greg Land's not-best art. What a surprise, the baddies are cyborgs armed with elaborate tracings of modern firearms! Honestly, my biggest question here is, What does Greg Land DO to writers to get so many scripts bent towards his very narrow fields of artistic expertise?

Havok assembles a ragtag misfit team while also winning a pair of simple fights. He's got a babysitter (Warpath) and two broken toys (zombie Banshee and jilted drunk Colossus). He also gets a pair of better-judgment-defying mutants who both reach the strange conclusion that "Alex Summers bringing a fight to my doorstep means I better team up with him": Beast and Dazzler. I could give this a "thoroughly average" 6.0 rating, but Greg Land is still terrible (An animatronic Mojo robot? It's too hard to trace, so we don't get to see it.) and this sort of snarky Teeth-Clenched Teamwork is Matthew Rosenberg's Signature Shtick. This is a cruise-control effort for the creators all around.

Havok's X-Team has a momentary fall-apart, we spend a little too much time with the antagonists, and Alex and Jimmy have a pretty good touchy-feely conversation. The plot is pointed in a promising direction, but this issue's pace is off and the art takes a turn for the worse. Above and beyond my entrenched distaste for this artist's character-drawing style, I would contend that this issue has significant weaknesses in its page and panel layouts.

"X who is not Xavier" manipulates the original X-Men through a complicated meeting that turns from a feel-good reunion into a murderous covert op. The complex moral ambiguities in his actions are the big draw here, and they hoist this comic up above average. The art isn't pulling in the opposite direction, but it's not lifting things any higher, either. When I see art with a scratchy, "I was on a deadline" finish like this, I also want to see some audacity to make up for it. Sadly, this issue's barely-achieved artistic ambitions didn't aim higher than "get through 30 pages of X-Men action without confusing or nauseating readers" - and it may not have even achieved that if you dislike its very simian take on Beast.

Amadeus Cho and Namor have a pretty good fight. But that's five pages and the whole rest of the issue is expository recaps covering the twisty status quo of Pan and the Agents. It looks pretty good and some basic action is woven all the way through to conceal the exposition, but this is still an awfully small baby step. The Agents as a team still suffer from a dreadful case of "and the rest," too.

It's a pretty good comic. I'm of two minds about the strong link to the Aero series. It's cool to see that stuff paying off. But if this comic inspires you to actually go read Aero, I think that would be a net loss.

Brawn vs. Namor gets called off in the second round thanks to the arrival of the Sirenas. And then everybody spends the rest of the issue arguing about who's the more aggrieved party and what the heroes should be doing. It's a complicated situation and the heroes muddy the waters further by coming down on different sides: Some will protect Pan, some will attack Atlantis with the Sirenas. Maybe I went in with the wrong attitude, but "shouty hero debate-fight" wasn't what I was looking for.

Too many moving parts. There's just not enough space for any one character or idea to get the attention he/she/it deserves. Poor Amadeus is forked between Mike Nguyen's "unregulated techno-capitalism will save the world" idea and Jimmy Woo's "cold war of the dragons" story. Meanwhile, he's got Namor and the Sirenas demanding war and (literally) more than a dozen supporting heroes who are looking for a traditional punchy-zappy solution. Amadeus, Jimmy, and Nguyen need to go hash out their ideas in a TED Talk and let everybody else clobber each other.

The script comes out of the tall grass to deliver a good finale. Amadeus learns and grows, the Pan conflict ends satisfyingly, and wonder of wonders, Namor goes for non-violent conflict resolution. Nice art and added narrative focus help this series pull up a bit for the last chapter. The cast is still way too big, though: Part of why this issue works is that it doesn't even pretend to be anything other than the Amadeus Show.

Cressida settles into the Avengers and starts pitting them against each other just as the team starts to gel. In both writing and art, this title teeters on a knife edge. It has to evoke the Silver Age without falling into the same narrative pitfalls or looking hopelessly dated. It's a ringing success in my opinion. This issue is mainly devoted to letting the plot chug ahead and so it's pretty light on characterization.

A highly artistic backstory for Kang collapses into a final showdown against an all-star Avengers squad. It's a very pretty set of paintings illustrating Kang 101. The art is exceptional, the words less so. I wonder whether hardcore Kang fans will be delighted, bored, or outraged? Personally, though I do love Mike del Mundo's art, I'd rather wrap up the dang Kang story already, and this issue doesn't move very far toward that goal.

The Avengers finally figure out Cressida isn't their friend. Is it too late to save themselves? The potential of this throwback series pays off in a big way as Cap stages a grudge match with the Frightful Four to keep his team from falling apart. The action is exciting, the art is beautiful, and the characterization is great. Not only does Mark Waid recreate what these heroes were like in 1965, he also shows us the fascinating interplay that's made them worth following for decades.

The Avengers' side of the Kang war is a love letter to the team, but it doesn't go off without its hitches. It's an epic script and epic art, and the only problem here is that they're not really suited for each other. Mike del Mundo's style is nearly overwhelmed by a script this busy, and his mugging faces sabotage the humor of the writing. Despite this mismatch, it's still an awfully entertaining book and the fullest possibilities of time travel - 15-Avenger all-time all-star squad! - are utilized well.

Cressida meets her doom at the hands of Avengers new and old, plus an assist from the Frightful Four. This entire miniseries is targeted to pander to Silver-Age-loving fans like me, but I like to think that the talent and love displayed by its creators are evident to any reader. Mark Waid's writing is deeply enjoyable and this issue is built strictly according to Silver Age storytelling rules (the good ones, at least). The art mishmash - zillions of pencillers, inkers, and colorists - works better than it has any right to, with all the contributors hewing closely to the updated Marvel house style Barry Kitson built in earlier issues.

Time-travelin' Hank Pym gets the big win and the Kang War wraps up with suspicious simplicity. A roster I love and a spotlight turn for my favorite under-rated Avenger can't fool me into rating this highly. It's way too busy, too rushed, and too confusing to achieve more than basic entertainment. Mike Del Mundo's painterly art again struggles to contain an over-complicated script. Thanks to Mark Waid's plotting, we have to chew through *three* cliffhangers before we can *start* the climax. It's exhausting, and it leans hard on the "it's time travel so who cares if it's confusing" crutch.

Nadia's nerd-crush Dr. Doom enlists her to help bust up evil witchcraft at the Sue Storm Camp for Girls' Leadership. If this had been published as an Unstoppable Wasp one-shot and given a proper inker to finish the linework, it would be an epic comic. The Avengers were crowbarred into the story and come off as highly unnecessary. The heavy colors overwhelm a lot of the detail in Phil Noto's mostly-excellent art. These pages look like they were released with a vital "black linework" Photoshop layer accidentally turned off. As a compromise between "superb Wasp comic" and "disappointing Avengers comic in desperate need of an inker," I'm just gonna call it a very "meh" mess.

The Avengers get badly flat-footed and the return of Avenger X turns out to be a big waste of time. Doom and Wasp save the day. Phil Noto's art looks a little better this time around, but the ineptitude of the Avengers has, if anything, gotten worse. This supposedly-top-tier team gets rope-a-doped repeatedly by a very clichéd villain; any six random comics fans would handle Avenger X better than these Avengers do. Above-average art combined with a below-average plot and very middle-of-the-road characterization equals a rather forgettable adventure. The Avengers - and their readers - deserve better.

Where is Thor? Having a heartwarming alien adventure. How was she sent there and when will she get back? Well … This self-contained one-shot is fun and moving as all get out. But don't let it off the hook due to sentiment; there are important questions about Thor's disappearance that are not at all answered here. It's certainly an enjoyable diversion, but it's not great enough to make you forget those questions. Mike del Mundo delivers his usual 90% awesome art. I'm not a fan of his cartoonier faces. Marvel has legions of artists who can do cartoony; Mr. del Mundo's more serious, painterly work is completely irreplaceable. Fortunately, I'm only talking about three or four goofy faces; for the rest of the issue Thor is a teeth-clenched lightning-catching badass.

It's an routine "protect the planetary shield" mission with our new pals, the Hydravengers. Mark Waid's script rations out a few nuggets of revealing Secret Empire knowledge and offers a B-plus imitation of Dan Slott's Ock and a C-minus imitation of Duggan's Deadpool. Mike del Mundo's art is up to its usual high standards, but some inconsistent character designs draw the eye in a bad way.

Contemplating the damage Secret Empire has done to their team, the Avengers split up for three deep conversations. Spidey and the Wasp on "why we hate each other" is good, Thor and Sam on "who leads the Avengers" is great, and Hercules and the Vision on "how do you handle immortality" is remarkably epic. Mark Waid plays the reader's heartstrings like a concert harp, and this issue is a potent tool for reviving flagging interest in this Avengers roster. Altogether it's an impressive chunk of character work and very nice breather between big events. Mike del Mundo's art is, except for one panel, perfect.

The Avengers and Champions are thrown together by some fast-paced Counter-Earth mayhem. This kickoff features a great plot, intriguing foreshadowing, decent characterization, terrific art, and Good Lord The Dumbest Science. At least the characters who point out (accurately) that Counter-Earth is scientifically impossible are different from the ones that think they can use webshooters to catch an extinction-level asteroid on the fly. It's both Spideys that are guilty there, plus Falcon and Viv Vision. Between the four of them, *somebody* should really have the 9th-grade physics knowledge to spot that even with "super-tensile webbing," they're tying themselves to thousands of tons of rock - how are Falcon and Viv supposed to slow it down? But I nitpick because I'm *engaged,* and that's not an accident. This is a super-promising start to a crossover and I'm eager to see where it goes next.

The plot unfolds at a snail's pace, a highly generic High Evolutionary minces on-stage, and Viv gets a big surprise. Right from the initial splash page, the visuals make it clear that this issue is constructed by talented creators running on cruise control, and Mark Waid's script lives down to that assessment. The plot has nuggets of promise and Viv's fate is genuinely intriguing, but this issue's primary purpose is clearly to make sure the arc ends up trade-sized. The portrait of the High Evolutionary is half-interesting; his delusions of godhood are exceptionally fragile and he's probably going to shatter like sugar glass as soon as Spidey rolls up and starts calling him "Herbie."

The Counter-Earth adventure ends with an emotional hammerblow. It's schmaltzy and foreshadowed and set up oh so obviously, but it *still* lands in the heart as though shot there by Hawkeye. This feels a lot like that point in Hickman's Fantastic Four when … well, you'll know when you hit it. Being illustrated in true tour-de-force fashion by Jesús Saiz certainly helps sell the climax, even if his Human Viv is undercut slightly by looking significantly different than previous artists' renditions. The visuals are quite simply stellar throughout, selling both wham-bam action and highly emotional conversations with equal skill.

An all-star grab-bag of Avengers loses many team members to a mysterious freezy condition just as the Earth suffers a cataclysmic (but also quite generic) relocation. The chaos provides a few opportunities for splendid little moments of timeless comics coolness, like Hercules grabbing up a runaway Atlas statue globe before it can hurt bystanders. I'm unsure about the overall direction of the plot. The conceit of letting c-lister Lightning open and close the book with POV narration doesn't really work, but if it's ineffective, it's also harmless. Characterization is solid and Pepe Larraz's visuals are beautiful. (Why does Rogue have Giant Hair, though?) This is a fairly strong start. Not strong enough to turn me into an instant fan, but definitely promising enough to pull me on to the next week.

The Avengers gush over the resurrection of the saintly Valerie "Voyager" Vector, a previously-unknown founding Avenger. Meanwhile, two teams of villains, the Black Order and the Lethal Legion, appear in Egypt. Before their mysterious masters set them against each other, Corvus Glaive takes the initiative and strikes at the Avengers in a ridiculously lazy Fatality Fakeout. Yeah, I'm sure the team's gonna suffer a *lot* of casualties in chapter 2 of a 16-part story. The Voyager introduction is pretty stellar thanks to Pepe Larraz's scrupulous retro art. The fact that she supposedly disappeared during the Grandmaster's debut - also Marvel's first "Contest of Champions"-type story - is super suggestive. I refuse to ignore the nakedness of Emperor Mark Waid, though. He didn't even give his "Forgotten Silver Age Avenger" premise a chance to cool off before resurrecting it. Mr. Waid finished the way-too-similar "Avenger X" story just six months ago, and the appearance of its near-twin here is *not* welcome. Also, when the baddie teams brawl a little, Proxima Midnight squares up with Drall, a tough new female scrapper. It's 20-goddamn-18 and we're doing Designated Girl Fights, Marvel? Really?

The villains stand revealed as "Contest of Champions"-type pawns, and one of the players is our old pal Grandmaster. Pietro's our POV character and he has a terrible day. Rogue doesn't trust him (fair), and his sister accidentally spoils his big "save the day" moment fighting the Lethal Legion (ouch). I am spectacularly uninterested in the combat or the game, but the Grandmaster's mystery Challenger does pique my interest. So does Voyager. For somebody who's been out of action since Avengers #71, she is INCREDIBLY au courant on code-names and goings-on. I smell a rat. Pepe Larraz's art and some solid "Pietro gets picked last for dodgeball" humor bump this up a bit above average for me.

The Avengers start working out the rules of the Grandmaster's game. Despite the firm "each issue gives a new Avenger the POV" structure, the story is a mess of interwoven plots and character beats. Real organization seems sorely lacking. Pepe Larraz's art is very talented, but it also mirrors the unfocused nature of the script. This might be a "too many cooks" situation. Whichever writer is trying to get us to care about the Lethal Legion is tilting at a particularly hopeless windmill, but none of the many threads knotted into this story stand out in terms of either content or presentation. This event may wind up very strong as a complete story, but I don't think it's worth the time or the money to follow it week-to-week in individual issues.

This week's surprise POV character is the Challenger, and his angry relationship with the Grandmaster gives us much-appreciated context for their Game. It satisfies my thirst for understanding while preserving plenty of mystery about the rules. The Avengers take five between rounds, mostly running a "who's sorrier" competition. Beast and Wasp deliver a shamefully stupid explanation for Jarvis's sickness. Handing the art reins off to Kim Jacinto goes fairly well. He works hard on polish here, and though he still has a weird phobia about drawing pupils, this performance is definitely suited to the top shelf.

Rogue, enraged by losing Johnny Storm, grabs the POV football and beats a bloody vengeance story into the Black Order's faces. That part's great, but the rest of this issue's content is less moving. The writers push the "Oh no, Johnny's gone!" reactions well over the line into filler territory. Wonder Man's contribution to the Jarvis mystery is set up beautifully and then fizzles. The Hulk foreshadowing is in a holding pattern. The visuals are not wowing me, either. They seem rushed. Poses look generic, settings are nonexistent, and in several panels, the artist gets defeated by the challenge of portraying Rogue as a human person with a skull-shaped-skull out of which hair comes.

A little villain focus and some classic backstory for Voyager liven up endless fight scenes and the Avengers' slow acquisition of all the extant pieces of the premise puzzle. A lot is riding on where this goes next: I'm REALLY hoping that the already-low momentum isn't squandered with a lot of recapping. The art features a few individually beautiful panels. Many others are a lot less beautiful, and there's a critical lack of structure/setting/flow holding the pages together. If I were writing a treatise on good visual storytelling I could pull A LOT of "how not to do it" examples from this comic.

Red Wolf goes all Sherlock Holmes and deduces that touching the Pyramoids can't be as fatal as it looks. I love clever heroes and I love Red Wolf, but this development strongly contradicts the way the Lethal Legion was behaving in the last issue. It's almost like this story was cobbled together by a too-big team of writers who couldn't be bothered to coordinate, or something! While I admire the polish that Sean Izaakse brings to the individual panels, he's sticking with the established lack of backgrounds. I think "featureless void" settings are a terrible choice for a busy story with so many parallel plot threads.

With refreshing focus, the story drills down onto a tight vignette of Beast and Wasp simultaneously saving Jarvis and dealing with the final Pyramoid. There's also a Big Reveal on the Voyager front that gets some excellent foreshadowing earlier in the book. I really like the visuals, though the art gets a big advantage from the script's limited number of settings. The strategic writing work - plotting and pacing and those Voyager hints - is superb, but the actual dialogue is a bit trite. The dangers, yet again, of writing by committee. No Surrender looks to be speeding up, which is very welcome.

All of the Hulk and Voyager foreshadowing is paid off. The former attacks the Avengers quite forcefully and we finally learn What The Deal Is with the latter. The art is great - I had no idea how nicely Joe Bennett & Paco Medina would complement each other - and the plot developments are solid. The pace is a little slow and the extra pages are shamelessly used to hype the Hulk's next series, but the work succeeds at entertaining in its own right and in building anticipation.

The Hulk rampages through a lot of Avengers. Voyager watches and comes to ambiguous-but-not-really conclusions about what she should do next. It's a passionate story with great high-stakes tension. The pace is perfect, the art is evocative. While the road bringing us here had its bumps, the final act of this story is shaping up into something special.

The Grandmaster wins his game with a few surprise twists, and we've still got a lot of story to get through. This issue continues the trend of showcasing the new Immortal Hulk, but it's frankly to the story's benefit. Smart, cruel, selfish Hulk is awesome! The art continues to roll the story along solidly, though the proportions (particularly on female heroes) are wobbling a little toward the cartoonish.

This breather episode delivers many variations on the theme of "what does it mean to be an Avenger?" At its finest, that means Jarvis hauling Bruce Banner out of the depths of depression with Milton quotes and heartfelt admiration. At its weakest, the "breather" part gives Voyager an excuse to recap her now-clear origins in excruciating detail. This issue teeters on the knife-edge of over-indulgence; the next one NEEDS to deliver significant forward plot motion. Still-solid visuals are a strong point in favor of the book's overall quality, though.

This is the "darkest hour" episode where one hero makes a mighty sacrifice and the rest of the Avengers pull together to triumph. The heroes fall all over themselves volunteering for the sacrifice play: Hulk is punched into space, Lightning and Sunspot make "even if it kills me" moves, and Quicksilver goes stupid-fast to free the rest of the world's heroes from stasis. This last one proves to be the capital-S sacrifice that saves the day. It's a very safe, familiar plot and I sound super-salty about it, but I recognize it's deployed with considerable skill. The art is fine and the words approach poetry in the final pages.

Powerful Assembling saves the day on Earth while Lightning gets his moment in the spotlight by out-clevering the Grandmaster. Themes, story, and art are all excellent; there are a lot of great connections back to the very beginning. Clumsy words hold this on the threshold between good and great for me. It feels like the narration and the dialogue are making it harder to see the cleverness of the plot; surely their job is to do the opposite. The visuals really make the most out of a cast-o-thousands and deliver tons of impressive moments.

Jarvis takes the narrative reins for an indulgent epilogue. His final assertion that No Surrender was the Avengers' finest hour is laughable, but there are plenty of other bits of empty rhetoric competing with it. This issue attempts a LOT of seed-sowing and status-quo-updating; for me, launching the Quest For Quicksilver is the only one that really works well. The attempted reconciliation between Hawkeye and Bruce Banner is another standout weakness. The art delivers a fine degree of polish, but after spending so much time with these characters, Pepe Larraz has a remarkable amount of trouble making them distinctive.

A rock-solid monster-bashing tale. Spidey is already abusing his Avengers connections, calling the team to Boston to help him mop up a Maggia meeting fast so he can jet off on Parker Industries business. A kaiju attack kiboshes his plan, of course. Thor does the heavy lifting in fighting both the monsters and special guest villain the Controller. Writing and art are solid, though seeing every line from the Avengers' section of Monsters Unleashed #1 repeated here robs it of some novelty. The art is entirely new, though the kaiju designs are the same.

A top-tier crisis, a CaveVenger prologue, and some sumptuous (if slightly overblown) art are wrapped around a core conversation about the Avengers that I find fundamentally distasteful. Thor is pretty well done - no surprise there - but Tony and Cap both disappoint. Too crotchety, too argumentative, too self-doubting. I do have some hopes based on promising portrayals further down the roster: I like this take on Captain Marvel and I LOVE T'Challa and Dr. Strange off doing a private Supernatural LARP session. There's a lot of storytelling horsepower on display in the words and art, but both areas lack unifying focus.

For the second issue straight, the Avengers are faffed around as cosmic chessmen in a game we don't yet really understand. I'm glad Loki's rolled up to dispense a few big picture hints, but I think the creators badly overestimated how much fun it is to watch the Avengers get frustrated and confused. The script and art are both fumbling basic storytelling duties. There are lots of pretty character shots (though Ghost Rider is badly shortchanged in that department), but important details - like what Eson the Celestial is up to - get lost in the busy visual shuffle. This story still has gobs of potential but the tone with which it's unfolding leaves me very cold. Loki's foreshadowing is welcome; his insufferably smug condescension is not. It makes it even harder to take this whole Celestial rigamarole seriously.

Cap makes a valiant try at monkeywrenching Loki's schemes. The rest of the team does little of consequence - I don't even think they'd pass a majority vote on whether they ARE Avengers right now. I suspect Jason Aaron was handed more tools than he needed to tell his Cave-Vengers/Celestial infection tale. "Let's have them stand around and bicker in maybe-entertaining ways" is exactly what you do with heroes that are superfluous to your story. Captain Marvel and Doctor Strange display encouraging glimmers of grown-up rationality by saying "Whoah, She-Hulk is messed up" and "Ghost Rider is OBVIOUSLY important here, maybe let's not walk away from him," respectively. Tony Stark, on the other hand, is way stupider and jerk-ier than he needs to be, and it's not a problem that a throwaway bit of self-aware dialogue can solve. Strong but overblown art, a glacial pace, and a team that gets WEAKER when it Assembles don't seem to be good ingredients for a memorable Avengers series.

Small Avengers teams make small gains in the struggle to understand the Dark Celestial threat. Odin and Loki tell contradictory myths about the DCs' origins, which is good characterization but confusing storytelling. Once again, I like a lot of the individual scenes, but the core story around which they orbit doesn't engage me the way I want it to. The visuals stick mostly to the title's high standards, but there are a few troubling weak spots and not a lot of stand-out points to offset them.

The Avengers FINALLY tie all the threads together and get suitably strapped for a fight with a bunch of rabid Celestials. After far too long scrabbling with fiddly details, this issue takes the story right over the top and promises high-quality insanity for the next installment. There's still a host of flaws and cheese that keeps me from calling this "great," but this series has, at last, made it to "good."

The Avengers spend half the issue kaiju-fighting. Then they sweep all the extant plot coupons into a blender to create a "hippie-ish and kumbaya" "power of friendship" victory. Individual panels of the art are very nice, but many aren't, and the layouts are often nonsensical. The writer recognizes the fundamental disappointment of the story as written and desperately tries to polish the turd with hundreds of words of counter-productive "no, really, this is epic, we swear" language. After reading this, I'm not sure whether the arc is over or not, but I don't really care. That CANNOT be the feeling the creators were aiming for. This issue assassinates the characters of many, possibly most, of its cast members. I'm wearing my Carol Corps hat when I point out Captain Marvel is involved in two bits of criminally bad characterization. Tony, her AA sponsor and dyed-in-the-wool platonic friend, makes a cheap pass at her. And just before that, she threatened in a "funny" way to punch him back into a coma. Shameful.

It's the ancient origin of Cave Ghost Rider. The story's told with good art and some impressive world-building. It's talented, but unsatisfying. The big hole for me is motivational: This story gives Cave Ghost Rider something to fight against but nothing to fight FOR. We run out of pages before Odin and Lady Phoenix could maybe provide that missing motivation. The revelation that Lady Phoenix happens to be a skilled telepath also sits a little uncomfortably in my brain. That ol' Phoenix Force sure do have a type. I really loved the ice-snake, though.

It's time for that grand old classic of Avengers storytelling, the status quo update episode. Swank new digs and the current roster are shown off with undeniable talent, visually and narratively. An awful lot of the plot points, though, are old enough to qualify for retirement benefits. This goes particularly for the villains. Loki's smug pride in Assembling the Avengers irritates in all the wrong ways. And Namor going to war with the surface world? What DECADE is it?

It's a bonus-sized milestone issue done right as the Avengers tussle with the Defenders of the Deep and the Winter Guard. Oodles of foreshadowing, too - a whole other US super-team waiting to take the Avengers down, some strong War of the Realms foreshadowing, and vampire trouble on the horizon. The cracks are filled in with some fun characterization that rings (somewhat) more true than previous issues. While I was initially worried about the large art roster, the work is divided up wisely and the different styles work with the script to give widely-separated story threads distinctive tones. This issue does such a great job introducing new plot points that I wonder why I had such a hard time connecting with the first arc.

The creators gleefully devote an issue to detailing out the Avengers' new support team and base. This sort of thing is a blast when it's done well and in moderation; hopefully, the arrival of Blade and Morbius will kick us into full-tilt vampire action in #13. The splashy visuals are perfect for this kind of story: essentially just a cavalcade of ideas (compelling ones!) dressed to the nines in swank illustrations.

Meet Fan Fei, first Iron Fist and exile of K'un-Lun. She wanders the savage Earth, opposes the scheming of Mephisto (and his Gorgilla lackeys), and eventually chooses the CaveVengers over the Thunderer's offer to end her exile. It's a fine standalone Iron Fist story (complete with ridicu-awesome kung fu move names), an excellent follow-up to #7's prehistoric world-building, and a surprisingly great artistic performance by Andrea Sorrentino. He adds nuanced character rendering to his usual layout excellence, and warm, soft color work brings out the details while also emphasizing the difference between this world and the higher-intensity one of the contemporary Avengers.

I am madly in love with the idea that Thor can't be arsed to learn his way around Avengers Mountain. In contrast, you just KNOW Cap studied the layout for hours. I bet he made flashcards.

This volume's ratio of "Avengers get flat-footed by mysterious antagonists" to "Avengers get it together and kick some ass" is way off-balance.

The story of America's Squadron Supreme routing frost giants in Washington DC is a ready-made triumph. The Justice League parallels are cranked to 11 for meta-humor, and the script goes shockingly dark to explore how Phil Coulson tampers with these heroes and to show the master he serves now. Ed McGuinness's art is perfect for this bombastic, big-shouldered edition of the Squadron.

Gorilla-Man's day in the spotlight covers a lot of ground: Espionage and betrayal in addition to helping save Avengers Mountain from Malekith. The art is gorgeous through and through and Ken's voice is charming. But I'm worried about the long-term ramifications. I think this issue filled up my quota for Gorilla-Man antics; I'd rather not see future pages spent on a damnation/redemption arc for him.

There's inevitably some thorny subtext when a male storyteller uses a female character to tackle #metoo matters. And I see how a committed anti-fan could dismiss this issue as virtue signalling. Me? I see enough of a split between how Jason Aaron and Jen Walters approach the matter to make it realistic. Jen *says* villains don't sexually harass her anymore, but Ulik *does*. She comes across as fallible, with that allegorical courtroom conflict extending far past the first scene. She's growing and evolving, and that's pretty rare and remarkable for any character in a big, shared universe like Marvel's.

Ouch, that art.

Blade doesn't know where Johnny Blaze is? I guess he forgot watching him sacrifice himself in Damnation -- and that he (Blade) was one of the Midnight Sons who came out of that event explicitly tasked with rescuing Johnny from Hell.

Constantly ☠☠☠☠☠☠☠ up the spelling of "Hellstrom" is the epitome of an avoidable error. Nice editing, editors.

Setting aside the question of whether you think Cosmic Ghost Rider is the bee's knees or a try-hard Deadpool-squared type, structurally, his whole tussle with the Avengers is just a misunderstanding brawl. It even doubles down by refusing its first shot at a resolution -- they can't team up until a whole issue's worth of pages are filled.

The Cave-Venger Starbrand's origin story is beautiful and sad and queer. The prose and the art invest the "gay Eden" premise with enough gravitas to make it rewarding, but it doesn't quite overcome its gimmick-itude to get to all-time greatness. It's a fun diversion, though, and it proves there's some mileage left in the Cave-Venger sub-plot.

The Avengers blast into space and into this volume's wheelhouse, a tone I would describe in my saltier moments as "gleeful stupidity."

It's goofy fun, edging into "good comic" territory -- just -- thanks to the sense of bigger picture plotting that the Surfer picked up on.

The Avengers shout their way through non-stop Herald fights before heading to the Starbrand. It's got Grand Plot ideas and Cool Fight ideas and they're visualized with distinction (though character rendering, as usual, comes out way ahead of creating a sense of motion). As others have noted, the dialogue is pretty bland. I think that, more than anything else, is responsible for the slightly-guilty "This is stupid. Fun but stupid" reaction we're all experiencing.

When Jason Aaron gets political … well, it ain't exactly Al Ewing's Immortal Hulk. Poor pregnant Starbrand!

Jason Aaron's Avengers are so divorced from other Marvel titles that they're practically in an alternate universe. And this is another comic that absolutely did not need to take a spin on the artist carousel.

If the big-picture plot is this grand and exciting, why do the actual adventure arcs turn out so blah?

I'll admit I enjoyed this. But I feel proper ashamed about it on account of the Thor fight, which was high-grade BS.

This arc feels like the Platonic archetype of the "apocalypse everybody forgets about after a week" story.

Khonshu is a terrified, jealous godling, fighting an unending war against multi-Mephisto. Meanwhile, the Avengers score some minor wins and Moon Knight's feeling of being on the wrong side grows. It has good art and some interesting plot ideas, but as ever, "cliched at best" characterization is the Achilles heel that spoils the reading experience.

Holy non-chronological scene structure, Batman! WAY too complicated for a title that's presented itself as a dumb popcorn comic so far. Also, I've had an epiphany: Jason Aaron has NEVER treated Mjolnir right. Not in this volume, not in his (otherwise formidable) Thor work. The man just don't respect the hammer.

As a random grab-bag of nifty splash panel ideas, this script is pretty good. As something to read and enjoy, though, it's kinda trash.

The Avengers stare at future threats, flinty-eyed but passive. Meanwhile, Mephisto is out getting ☠☠☠☠ done. I prefer this volume's "mythos-building" issues to the story arcs between them, but in this one it's painfully clear that the antagonists do a lot more than the heroes. Nice art and dialogue, at least!

It's the story of Cave-Venger Phoenix. Her origin is cool; her running into one-to-one caveman equivalents of Xavier and the X-Men, not so much. Decent words, good art, and a story that feels more like a contractual obligation than a tale the author wanted to tell. Blah.

Today in the Aaronvengers AU: It's Contest of Champions, Firechicken Edition! Check your brain at the door, put up your feet, accept your complimentary bag o' popcorn, and root for your favorites! It's a shame to waste Javier Garrón (who is NOT just phoning it in here, this looks gorgeous) on this carnival sideshow. Also, attention Marvel: I am full up on Steve Rogers saying "I can do this all day" in comics, thanks. I could go 12 months, at least, without reading that again. It's not cute, it's not clever, it's not subtle. It's not ripe for deconstruction or irony or repurposing. Just (literally!) give it a rest for a little while.

Okay, nevermind that "ooh, is Echo going to survive?" nonsense. You tell me RIGHT NOW that Howard the Duck is OK, or ...

The Phoenix tournament rolls on, with a few too many characters delivering cute but shallow monologues about their firechicken feelings. Artist Luca Maresca deserves plenty of credit for delivering polished art that is stylistically similar to Javier Garrón's work in the previous issue. Also, Mr. Maresca does a stellar job carrying the story through the fight scenes while the script is staring into its navel. I'm not at all pleased with the opacity of the tournament mechanics. Some eliminated contenders show up A-OK in Avengers Mountain. Does that mean all of the losers are safe? (Yes I am still gravely concerned about Howard the Duck.) My rating was headed up toward green territory -- then the final page pulled that Empire Strikes Back BS. Noooooope, I don't like that.

There's a place for "Black Panther has a Vibranium grill" and it's in Black Panther Vs. Deadpool, not Avengers.

New Phoenix's identity is obvious within a page of her narration kicking in. From there to the end, all I was asking was, "Are you gonna do something the Avengers and/or the readers will find meaningful, or are you just gonna spit this updated character into the Bullpen for some other writer to maybe someday develop?" And each page increased my certainty that the answer was the latter. This series is tying up so many good characters, so much good art, so many … passable? … words. And it's accomplishing *so little* with them! *Insert GIF of MCU Thanos saying, "All that for a drop of blood."*

After King in Black, the Avengers have a busy "day off" during which the Vampire Nation and Echo Phoenix plots get nudged forward. I found two genuinely great developments here: Plotwise, I liked T'Challa and Blade's solution to their Dracula problem; on the character front, I loved Robbie stepping up when Maya needs a friend. And the art was pretty good. But as usual for this title, there was also a cavalcade of weaknesses to tip the scale away from greatness. Very few of the jokes worked for me, there was *way* too much Robbie narration, and the promising "time works differently in Avengers Mountain" idea came in dead on arrival.

Framed by flash-forwards that reveal the Red Widow's sinister plans, this issue shows how the Winter Guard snatched She-Hulk out of Avengers Mountain. It's a nice clean heist story. The pace is brisk, the art is outstanding. It succeeds through its simplicity. And yet, not for the first time in the volume, the key to making a good comic turns out to be keeping the Avengers out of the driver's seat.

The Avengers' attempt to rescue She-Hulk from the Winter Guard goes a little sideways. Jen is free, now in "Winter Hulk" mode -- but was she fully or partially brainwashed? It's a pretty talented execution of a pretty "blah" premise. (Although the script is also pretty "blah" on characterization.) The art is stronger than the writing; this is a very pretty issue. But that Winter Hulk design, yikes. She looks like gender-swapped, palette-reversed Santa Claus.

The Winter Hulk drags Gorilla Man along with her as she goes about her brainwashed assassin business, and he tries desperately, unsuccessfully, to break through to Jen Walters. There's some fancy (if indulgent) prose used to showcase Gorilla Man's depression, and the art still conforms to a high standard (though I suspect Javier Garrón is running low on enthusiasm). The story barely has a nodding acquaintance with the Avengers at this point. This issue is one depressed ape away from being a trainwreck, and no matter how nicely it's done, a nuanced character study of Gorilla Man is not what I was looking for.

All the schemes within schemes are finally revealed and She-Hulk can (begin to) save the day. The art's pretty good and I actually respect the plot developments. I'm underwhelmed with their delivery, though; the endless expository narration feels like a crutch. Or like I'm having the story explained to me by a third party rather than reading it myself.

Well, this is a dang hot mess. But a fun one, like a no-kids barbecue with a little too much beer. Even though I should know better, given this title's track record with big-picture plotting, I enjoyed this. I accepted early on that this was gonna be a slide show rather than a cohesive story, and so I just appreciated each of the plot hooks cast out willy-nilly. On the art front, everything is well done, with many formidable panels. But the sheer breadth of the artist roster robs this of the visual integrity it would need to be a truly great art performance. (Nitpick: The voice that Jason Aaron uses for Ka-Zar absolutely drives me up the wall.)

Unlike the previous issue, this one is the bad kind of messy. Overblown character melodrama, tons of scenery-chewing by the villains, badly-organized (but nicely-drawn) combat, and nary a meaningful or interesting development to be found. And then there's the Deathloks' dialogue, *good lord*. I counted at least ten eyeball-rolling phrases, from "megaverse" on down to "legion of super Satans." A perfect litany of stupid.

This issue's action set-piece is just as well-drawn and a bit tighter-plotted than the last one. The character work is a wash for me. I love this treatment of Cap and his attempt to teach the Starbrand. But on the flip side, I don't think she learns enough and I pretty much hate her; she's unbearably (literally) xenophobic almost all the time. What tips the scales is that the Deathloks' prophesying sounds a lot less stupid this time around, so I'm rating #52 higher than #51.

The plot developments just get dumber and dumber, but dang if they don't explode across the panels in cinematic popcorn-chompin' glory. Li'l Thanos sounds incredibly creepy, too. Once again this title manages to meet my incredibly low expectations. (And once again, the Deathlok is my least favorite part of the story.)

This arc trails off to a rather inconclusive end. The game's not over; it's just halftime and the bad guys are ahead on points. Storytelling is relentlessly adequate all around. The script is nicely structured, but few lines stand out as really memorable. The art is highly polished, but its style also looks dated (not in a "classic retro" way, either). I'm still interested in the big-picture plot, sort of, but the way this issue pulls back at the end reminds me of how many moving parts there are and how truly dumb some of them are. I'll throw in the caveat that I think this arc would read much better in one TPB sitting than it did spread across 4 months.

This issue features solid writing and very good art, but those storytelling skills don't get a lot of content to work with. The Serpent Society is utterly forgettable here, and I really dislike how Mephisto pops into the 2nd act solely to remind readers that he exists (that DPS of his variants is gorgeous, though!). What this boils down to is a "roster shuffle" issue. This is a grand old Avengers tradition; that doesn't bump my opinion of it any higher than "average at best."

I was never one of those Grognards with an existential objection to Jane Fos-Thor. I loved her from the beginning to the end and at every point along the way (with a few exceptions, like that time she got sidetracked playing with Shi'ar gods, yeesh). So this lovely little check-in with the Goddess of Thunder is a delight. I think it's a lot more than just pandering for the character's stans, too; the premise is great. This experience really throws a monkey wrench into the psyche of Valkyrie-Jane. The prose could be a little more polished but I think the art is perfect. The cartoony touches suit a too-good-to-be-true fantasy; after the fantasy's over, Mr. Garrón does an incredible job bringing Jane's inner turmoil up into her face. The long game of Mr. Aaron's Avengers remains a disorganized, joyless mess. But sometimes, when he drills down to fiddle with individual game-pieces (i.e. characters), he strikes sparks of joy that can elevate individual issues tremendously.

As of the last issue of Avengers Forever, I was enjoying these weird little character vignettes. But this is the straw that broke my camel's back. Forward plot motion, forward plot motion, my kingdom for some forward plot motion! What's ironic is that I'd love this issue in a different context. The art is good, the war gear is well-researched, and the two-fisted Nazi-demon-fightin' action is fun. (I groused a bit about soldiers shipwrecked in the Irish Sea washing up on a tropical island, though.) I'm just done with this speculative crap in the Avengers is all. If Jason Aaron wants to keep writing up every random AU brainstorm he has, fine. Give him an "Avengers What If?" title and let him write it 'til his heart explodes. But give the Avengers-Avengers to somebody who can hit more than 2 plot points a year.

Looks like I bucked the trend by breaking and rallying earlier than most readers. The last 2 issues beat me down, but by the time I picked this one up, my tolerance for "fun stupid" one-off adventures had grown back. I wound up enjoying it quite a bit. And objectively, maybe these Ole West Avengers bring a little more potential to the table than the Ghost Ronin did. I think the author and the artist put a little more sweat into telling their story, anyway.

a) Shouldn't this be a Thunderbolts issue? Or, even better, an AXE: Hawkeye one-shot? b) Do you think Mark Russel digested even as much as 50 words describing the premise of the event? That snark aside, what we've got here is a cute, fluffy little morality play. It's got some good jokes and some sound (not deep) thinking about right and wrong. It exists in *such* a bubble, though (and it *is* still drawn by Greg Land), that it really doesn't have a prayer of being taken as seriously as it hopes to be.

To quote Peter Stack, "My tears stuck in their little ducts, refusing to be jerked."

It's a cromulent build-up for the climactic finale, but the sheer length and twistiness of the road that's brought us here has me exhausted even before we start. And though there's a basic logic to all the Cave-Venger philosophy and character work here, there's not a lot of depth. Plus I'm quite infuriated by the "Agamotto's backstory? Who knows LOL" routine.

The Great Big Fight is a messy, montage-y affair, and the way plot and character details are scattered about like seeds in the wind could be disastrous. But this issue has 2 hooks hoisting the reading experience high (by this title's standards). First, the art is a real tour-de-force of dynamic action and intricate detail. And second, there's the solid narration provided by the Cave Rider as he takes the point of view. The Rider's characterization isn't particularly novel or deep, but it does seem sincere. (I dunno. I've given this title my fair share of red-dot ratings, but issue by issue, I seem to be out of phase with the consensus view.)

The script has some decent lines and plot beats. The art remains formidable (although some panels get a bit cramped and busy). The storytelling is pretty messy, though, in terms of both script structure and visual narrative. There are so many moving parts here. And what's come before has failed to make me care enough to overlook the vague parts, dropped balls, and too-distant callbacks.

Avenger Prime's story gets told with decent talent, particularly in the art. But neither the premise nor the execution are good enough to outweigh the bigger problems, like this flashback throwing the whole story into a holding pattern or the fact that every significant development in the "Avengers Assemble" arc has been painfully predictable.

I see we've reached the point in the play-date where the frustrated rich kid dumps out his entire toy chest of action figures and declares himself the winner by sheer quantity. Poor Javier Garrόn is working his fingers to the bone creating intensely detailed panels stuffed chock-full of characters. It's counter-productive in two ways: The story is too feeble to encourage readers to scrutinize those panels, and they are just so busy that the best/most important sights are drowned out by the clutter. If there's one lesson to take from this finale arc (and Aaron's Avengers as a whole, really) it's that you can definitely have too much of a good thing.

Captain America and Iron Man catch the creation of a brand new Infinity Person when the Soul Stone lands in an endearing young robot. And the B-strip finally brings Fury and Star to where they needed to be a month ago for Black Cat #8 (way to schedule, Marvel!). I like Multitude, the new Stone-holder, and I like this introduction to him. The script is wordy, but a lot of the words are great. The art is clean and sharp and very well-defined. This issue couldn't possibly redeem some of the previous stinkers in Infinite Destinies -- but it's fun and smart enough to justify itself.

After the infuriatingly self-contained previous volume, this issue's thorough respect for all its characters' current continuity is a delight. Also delightful is the characterization all around, particularly with Carol. I'm getting a little tired of Kelly Thompson's Captain Marvel as it winds down; Jed MacKay's spin on the character is the perfect fresh take. Carol being sensitive and thoughtful but also quick-witted and commanding? Hell yeah. The storytelling within the issue is only a little shy of perfect. The art isn't truly distinctive, but it's highly refined and (mostly) clear. The fight du jour isn't memorable, but the exquisite way it's cross-cut with Carol's recruiting drive enhances both storylines. It's even funny, without resorting to turning one character into a designated wise-cracker. Top it with an intriguing hint at the bigger plot to come and it's a thoroughly enjoyable, thoroughly satisfying, thoroughly *relieving* (as in not going wrong in any of the ways it could have) first issue.

Oh, dear. Seeing the same split-the-team quasi-anthology structure two issues in a row troubles me. It whiffs of decompression. And the art is surprisingly rough in comparison to #1. But I want to limit my negativity by stressing that if this is a step down, it's only from "great" to "very good." I'm still hugely optimistic about this volume. And the split-up isn't without its charms. Sam Wilson's scene is quietly amazing. A slower pace will be fine if it makes room for little moments of brilliance like that.

It's either a decent story poorly told, or a poor story decently told. Either way you slice it, it's a weak start to the climax of a years-long saga.

The action is utterly ridiculous. Juvenile, really, in the way it tries to raise the stakes by amplifying and multiplying standard Marvel tropes. Multi-Mjolnirs, plural Phoenixes, variants galore, etc. And this isn't necessarily a bad thing, but the complete lack of sympathetic characters (subjectively speaking) makes it hard for me to approach it with the proper, silly attitude. The prose and structure are decent, and the art looks as good as can be expected for a collaborative carousel job. There's a fair amount of humor and (hypothetically) heartwarming character work. But because the past issues haven't made me care about any of these characters (or, worse, made me care and then made me not care), my rating's stranded on the high end of "average."

Oh, good, we're *still* sticking with the "fill 75% of each issue with a one-off nonsense conflict" model. That'll string this story out as long as possible before getting to anything even a tiny bit conclusive. *Sarcasm mode off* Though it's a stupid format and it's still illustrated by one of my least-favorite artists, I'll admit: By this point the creators know what they're doing. It helps a lot that we know about the Beyonder's scheme now; that makes the pret-a-porter action seem less pointless. The best part is probably the way the Beyonder starts to crack as the story goes; he's the very definition of an unreliable narrator. On the other hand, all that narration leaves a lot of the storytelling responsibility on the artist, and Mr. "I can draw 6 fight poses and 1 female face" Land doesn't have the broadest shoulders for carrying that burden.

Though there's a little meta commentary about racism within the issue, leaving Black Panther off the cover feels genuinely racist.

What if variant Avengers got stuck in a Dethklok video? Impeccably drawn, with prose carved straight from a giant block of cheese. Hope is *literally* a curse word? Oy. Guiltiest of guilty pleasures.

This comic aims for grimdark in the same over-the-top, tongue-in-cheek way as anything in the WH40K mythos. The torture porn does have a point, be it heavy-handed and simplistic: This pain is forging Robbie into something new. The art's impressive, particularly as a collaboration. If the title page didn't tell me, I'd probably never guess this was a team effort. It's another guilty pleasure, like the last issue, but with a refreshingly different flavor of stupid. I guess I'll just have to see how long the variety holds up.

It comes across as it should, as a noisy, splashy action extravaganza. Rock-solid art (both in character designs and in execution of the action scenes) helps sell it; there's even some good dialogue. But it remains (for me at least) a fundamentally stupid story. I single out this Tony Stark variant as particularly annoying -- too many alcoholism jokes and too much goofiness cribbed from MCU Scott Lang.

The art has a high degree of polish, but it's applied to weak bones. There's some embarrassing anatomy lurking in multiple panels. The words feel like "cruise control epic," a somewhat pro-forma performance. The saving grace is that this issue does plot development in spades, genuinely shaking up the status quo and giving Jason Aaron's often-digressive Avengers saga the backside boot it needs.

Well, this is a hell of a wind-up; it's a pity the resulting pitch is a somewhat-disappointing slow lob. Doom Supreme is revealed to have an awesome modus operandi -- but for motivation, all he gets is a vaguely-foreshadowed retread of the usual "only I can save the world, and I can't be bothered to tell you why" stuff Doom's been doing for decades. Even if it finishes with a bit of a letdown, it's still a fun interlude -- well-drawn and featuring plenty of meaty scenery-chewing monologuing -- in the sprawling, ridiculously uneven landscape of Aaron's Avengers.

Jason Aaron seems to be fixated on character vignettes and origin stories right now. This example -- a variant T'Challa cribbing story ideas from a host of different superheroes -- is shallow but fun. The premise will support an origin issue and maybe a few spotlight scenes further on, but not more than that. The art features solid (if not groundbreaking) bones and a semi-cartoony finish that I really like. The language is melodramatic and corny, but it doesn't get tiresome. Mashing up Black Panther, Spider-Man, Iron Man, Adam Warlock, and Superman (!) shouldn't work at all, but here, it does, albeit in a fluffy "don't think about this too hard" way.

It's a simple, solid execution of a *very* simple pitch. The art is strong and the script is tight and speedy. There are some good jokes. It's aggressively not deep, but it's fun in a popcorn-y kind of way. I nearly rated it into the basement of "good comics" territory. Then The Question hit me: Is there anything LESS "Captain America" than kidnapping someone and forcing them to be a soldier without their knowledge or consent? The twist ending practically slaps me in the face with that question. There's ways to address it that would satisfy me; I might even be thrilled with an inventive, thoughtful examination -- and it need not be a long one. But I know it's never gonna get a moment's thought from this author. And that's how a comic slips under the "fun stupid" bar and turns "insulting stupid" for me.

It looks beautiful in a gritty but highly-refined way. The script is simple, but not bad-simple. I give the author credit for pushing a couple ideas beyond the basic "Thor, but like Iron Fist" elevator pitch. Not a *ton* of credit, because he didn't go *that* far beyond, but this is more than minimum effort.

It's #7 all over again, but with Captain Marvel instead of Captain America. I rate this one higher despite it being a retread because the formula's been tweaked to fit Carol. (And the art is great.) And most importantly, this time around, the good-guy variants aren't ACTIVELY IMPRISONING THE PROTAGONIST. (Looks like I'm never not gonna be raw about that.)

On the script front, a little long-awaited clarity about the big picture plot combines with a solid (sappy, but solid) character development story for Ant-Tony to deliver a healthy serving of content here. On the art front, while it's clear that Jim Towe is the backup artist called in when Aaron Kuder needs a break, the visuals are at least clear and functional. I'm getting a little interested now that the Masters of Evil story is finally heading toward meaningful conflict. MAN, what a slog to get here, though! Has Jason Aaron always had these infuriating pacing issues? Did I not notice them in his Thor run because I read that in big chunks instead of monthly issues?

Another comic runs afoul of the Eight Deadly Words.

The character work and humor are decent for a big climactic fight comic, but no more than decent. When it comes to plot, the artists might as well be working from 2 sentences. The fact that they spin some gold out of that straw is the only thing keeping this issue in "average" territory for me.

Good twist > bad twist > no twist > untwist. And this issue delivers not one but two terrible untwists.

As the Big Dumb Fight™ rolls on, still hard to care about, the creators invest a lot of effort in personalizing things with a tragic loss on the battlefield. The art has its moments of excellence, the prose is deadly earnest, and together they create some memorable moments. But the grab for the reader's heartstrings is so obviously artificial (and simplistic) that it's self-defeating. Saltier take: This hypothetically-epic battle is built by taking some Avengers Endgame and mixing it up with some Return of the King and a dash of Revenge of the Sith.

Hypothetically-cool things are happening, and they are (mostly) made memorable by the superb art performance. But the impact just isn't there in the script. The plot developments remain strictly pro-forma, and with a palpable absence of memorable characters, it's hard to care about this particular apocalypse. It's a far cry from War of the Realms, where there were tons of great characters to hook my interest.

Dwight the new Ant-Man brings Dr. Doom troubles to the doorstep of Bruce Banner Jr. and Dani Cage. I think it's a perfectly cromulent story and a rational continuation of the OML/DML setting. But there's just not enough intrinsic excitement in the storytelling to compel a reader's interest; this is a real "take it or leave it" comic whose subjective quality depends mainly on how much enthusiasm you bring in with you. I liked a lot of the character art!

Fake Cap's origin story (he's a rebellious Doom lackey) is the highlight of this first installment of the heroes' weird west road trip. The plot's logical and the pace is good, but nothing here really hooked me.

It's a competently-told story that nobody particularly wants or needs to read. It's a pity; there are some strong points. I particularly like Jonas Scharf's art style; it's a good match for a post-apocalyptic setting.

For me, this comic falls victim to the eight deadly words: "I don't care what happens to these people." The storytelling's decent but I just cannot work up an interest in what happens next.

I suppose it's possible to take a cliche premise like "villain with a chronic illness wants to die in glorious battle rather than bed" and turn it into a good story. This series did not do it.

It's drawn very nicely and written pretty well (although the pace drags a bit). It fits with eminent logic into all the foreshadowing the author's done about this secret origin. And it just doesn't light the slightest spark of excitement in me.

On a wintry day, Ms. Marvel's inspired to dig into Avengers history. She's watching a rollicking Thor-Hulk-Iron-Man vs. Disir & Fenris story of Ragnarok. It takes the story a little while to find its feet, but it's quite compelling when it does. It develops a "welcome to Marvel" tone that's perfect for all-ages readers or MCU fans. I am hoping that Kamala gets more to do - and gets drawn better - in future issues. This first one did just enough to hook my attention and keep me reading. There's a nice spread of humor - everything from slapstick to wordplay to dramatic irony.

A "greatest hits" Avengers team just barely manages to clobber a biomechanical kaiju. Tony preps them for the next round with big Vibranium robot-suits. I respect the creative work that went into this, particularly the scrupulous art. But it's *such* a loser of a premise. "Mecha fighting kaiju" feels fundamentally un-Marvel. The mech designs are mighty clunky, and the kaiju antagonists aren't that exciting, either. The fact that each Avenger gets an action figure accessory to go along with their robot feels very toyetic, very 80s. And those are not, unfortunately, good feelings.

It's not bad per se, it's just dishwater dull.

As Kang plunges Earth into cross-time chaos, the Avengers battle and regroup and find themselves in the dubious care of a dubious ally. I feel bad for Carlos Magno. This is obviously a passion project for him. He pours scads of effort into his mecha-battle scenes. Jed MacKay adjusts the script accordingly, moving slow and leaving plenty of space for visual spectacle. But the finished results just. Aren't. Interesting. At all.

The Avengers' Hail Mary against Kang doesn't go well, costing them their unseemly ally Thanos. Look, Carlos Magno just wants to draw giant robots fighting monsters. And Jed MacKay just wants to write Avengers sassing each other. They do these things well enough to make up for the book's deficiencies -- barely -- and hold overall quality at average.

Black Panther uses cosmic Eternity power to pull off the most cliched of all time travel victories while his teammates have a filler-fight with their deadly-dull monster doppelgangers. I expected very little from this finale but *wow* was this still a huge disappointment. I wonder if there was a little creator friction at work here. Dialogue at the start and finish suggests the Avengers need to destroy Kang's tech while he's distracted. But in the middle, all they actually get to do is beat on those bland, ugly monster-vengers. Almost like *somebody* insisted on drawing that stupid fight. And this comic does a perfect job of rendering Black Panther's final assertion -- that the day was saved by Avengers bravery, not cosmic power -- entirely false. Ugh.

Voyager returns to assemble a new Avengers team when a sinister force snuffs out every sun in the universe. Hercules is the central hero, but there's admirable attention paid to all his new teammates. The Big Problem comes together in a compelling way, the antagonist is full of promise, and the art is gorgeous stuff. This is very much a sequel to No Surrender - but at the start, it steers well clear of mistakes that held that story back.

Two teams of Avengers find two of Nyx's MacGuffin crystals (and Rocket straight-up calls one a MacGuffin, which is indicative of the overall tone). It's pretty clear this script was split between two different writers, but each part plays well to a different strength: Canny character work on Rocket's team, twisty plotting on Herc's team.

Nyx easily lifts her first MacGuffin from the Avengers, but her son encounters trouble in Nightmare's Realm. And those contemporary developments are the b-story, woven with considerable scripting artistry into Nyx's own telling of her origin. It reaches for the mythic and gets a danged good grasp on it. An artist changeup helps the effort, bringing a fresh take to the characters that balances nicely between novelty and consistency.

The Avengers manage to throw some middle-act roadblocks down in front of Nyx, but circumstances still look mighty desperate. The script is less mythic than the last issue, but it makes up for it with some excellent twists. The art is still splendid on the characters, but it misses some potential in the action. The Spectrum-Witch combo magic deal, specifically, risks seeming overblown because the situation making it necessary -- Nyx holding the Avengers in a darkness bubble -- is too easy to miss.

Wanda has an all-out Conan adventure as the Cimmerian joins her quest for Nyx's shard. It is certainly different but also certainly great; Conan couldn't ask for a better reintroduction to the Marvel universe. Tons of fun in itself and strongly linked to series' larger story, this might be No Road Home's high-water mark. This issue delivers big on characterization as well as action; it sketches a fine portrait of Conan and carves out a fascinating place in his world for Wanda. Exceptional art, too.

Monica's canny leadership reunites the team, but they fail to stop Nyx from claiming one of her MacGuffin crystals. The POV characterization on Monica is incredibly great. A real treat for fans of the character, and a generally good read for anybody who's invested in the series.

Hercules triumphs over despair - which is really kind of his Whole Deal - and Hulk pays for his hubris as the whole shebang climbs toward a climax.

Vision defeats Nyx by comprehending the full potential of the Mystery House, revealed here as the House of Ideas. 80 years of Marvel team up to clobber her. A deus ex machina? A feel-good "power of friendship" victory? Sure. But it is crafted with SUPERB skill, and there's no reason to shy away from it unless you're in one of those adolescent moods where optimism makes you break out in hives. The epilogue with all the status quo updates is more hit-and-miss, but some of the hooks for future stories are mighty sharp.

A rather promising new world domination group is wasted in this incredibly simplistic "Avengers save the world" one-shot. The target audience is surely young; that does not excuse the 40-year throwback to "let us narrate all our heroics" dialogue. Very fine art does elevate the proceedings. This isn't something an adult fan would feel satisfied paying for. If you happen to have a young kiddo who loves the MCU movies and wants to dip her feet in comics for the first time, though, load this on MU and hand your tablet over.

Red Skull uses Infinity MacGuffins to de-power all the world's superheroes. The solution is (eventually) sentai-style Stark power armor for everybody. The cynical reaction is to say that the artist is 200-300% more invested in this than the author. But a more charitable take is that this simplistic script makes a perfectly adequate vehicle for delivering some gorgeous visuals. Personal anecdote digression: Whenever a comics writer unironically puts "I think not!" in their dialogue, I remember an ancient Dave Barry column about his son playing Masters of the Universe. Every fight ended with the boy declaring, "I think not!" in his deepest 6-year-old He-Man voice and then using the He-Man figure to knock the Skeletor figure across the room.

Red Skull keeps the Avengers hopping by dropping a giant Venom on Yokohama. Tony has to reveal the new armor's powerful but risky turbo mode ("Do Hatsu") to defeat it. This is a perfectly adequate execution of a very silly premise. I have no problem with silly premises, but every time I started to really enjoy myself here, there was some storytelling fumble -- a lazily-written line, a badly-blocked panel -- to smack my wrist and say, "no no, just adequate." (Blocking issues aside, the character/armor/mech art remains fantastic.)

Mecha-Loki menaces the Avengers, Tony Stark pulls out an unlikely counter, the day is saved, Red Skull lines up the next threat. This is developing into a real "lather rinse repeat" comic, and the novelty of exquisitely-designed mecha is starting to wear thin.

It's another WYSIWYG episode of this series, where lazy plotting is balanced out by intricate art to produce a perfectly average result.

As the plot bends toward a climax, the real limitation of this series' "good enough" storytelling becomes clear. There's no tension and no investment in what happens -- at least, these comics haven't gotten *me* invested. Even the artwork is slightly disappointing this time around. There's still lots of talent and hard work on display, but the action scenes aren't as clear and powerful as they could be.