I Don't Like Spiders Or Snakes

My disappointment at the end of Moon Knight's regular series- the impressionistic noir by Brian Bendis and Alex Maleev - led me to the back catalogue of these creators and  Spider-Woman: Agent of SWORD. Ever since the first issues of New Avengers, I felt Jessica Drew  barely participated in any major plotlines although her profile had been raised hugely, simply through cover appearances and cameos in the various Avengers comics. Her contribution has largely been a love triangle with Hawkeye, however, and jokes about her voluminous hair.

During Secret Invasion, it was revealed that the Skrull Queen had been impersonating Jessica all along. This series places her at the centre of a world of corruption and deceit as an alien hunter for SWORD and explores the allure and treachery intrinsic in the former Hydra puppet.


The story follows Jessica Drew from her lowest ebb -what is, to all intents and purposes, a suicide attempt -to a quest for revenge in sleazy Madripoor. It's a moody, super-hero/ espionage  melange.I would love to see the same team produce a Shang-Chi series or one for Marvel horror icons like Dracula or Son of Satan!

 This short-lived series was also released as a "motion comic": a dramatised animation. The motion comic is basically a more self-conscious version of the primitive Marvel cartoons of the Sixties. But as a long-time fan of radio drama, there is something compelling about hearing comic characters speak, whether it's Spider-Woman's English intonation or  Madame Hydra's (generic) European accent. I'm currently watching Joss Whedon's first Astonishing X-Men arc online and falling in love with Kitty Pryde all over again.

Our friends at Bronze Age Babies have just reviewed the debut of Man-Thing in Savage Tales #1, where we discover Ted Sallis had the hairiest legs in comicdom. I had the misfortune of watching the muck-monster's very own dvd release last weekend. Oh dear. As part of one of the "Masters of Terror" double-bills from the late 70s, like Night of the Lepus or Phase IV,  Man-Thing would be an acceptably cheesy horror. But as a comic book movie, it's off-target. 

It begins with a fairly explicit softcore sex scene. In a canoe. It progresses to a "comedy" redneck-having -a shit- scene by way of some effing profanity and windy 19th-century  Noble Savage Romanticism. Native American legends  in Louisiana of a "Nexus of Realities"?  Really?

The baby-faced sheriff hero is quite uncharismatic but at one point, it looks as if  he's getting a sex scene with the equally-unappealing heroine -next to a burning car, like some terrible Simple Minds video from the fag-end of the 80s.
 The eponymous swamp creature makes his first appearance about fifty minutes in. The direction is actually reasonably inventive and atmospheric. However, this is basically a foul-mouthed, schlocky monster flick with a superficial ecological theme, embodied in the oleaginous villain, the subtly-named  F.A. Schist. It felt more like a student film version of Swamp Thing than the satirical psychodramas of Steve Gerber. No Dead Clowns out of Five; a dawg of a movie.


Coming soon: The Two Alans.

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