Giant-Size Super-Heroes #1. Man-Wolf and Morbius

(Cover from 1974.)

"Man-Wolf At Midnight!"

Written by Gerry Conway.

Drawn by Gil Kane.

Inked by Mike Esposito.

Lettering by John Costanza.

Colours by Linda Lessmann.

Morbius is back in town - and he's decided to take control of the Man-Wolf.

Why? I couldn't say. While the sight of a vampire and werewolf heading off together down the street's an appealing one, Morbius' plan is to get an ESU professor to give him a total blood transfusion and cure him of his vampirism. Why he needs the Man-Wolf for this, I don't know. Maybe he needs his lupine lackey to distract Spider-Man while he visits the prof but why does he expect Spider-Man to turn up? Spidey wouldn't even have reason to suspect he was in town, let alone that he was about to pay the professor a visit. By blundering around New York at street level, with the Man-Wolf in tow, all he's doing is guaranteeing he'll be spotted.

Then again, Morbius isn't the only one acting irrationally. Spider-Man clearly realises Morbius wants the professor to cure him. At this point, anyone with a functioning brain and sense of social responsibility would offer Morbius all the help he could in order to end the threat his vampiric state poses.

So, what does Spider-Man do?

Everything he can to wreck Morbius' plan! And then, when he succeeds, he seems to think he's achieved a victory, happily ignoring the fact he's preserved the existence of a menace and guaranteed that more innocent people will die.

It's not the first time our hero's acted like this. He did the same when confronted by the Molten Man's attempts to cure himself in Amazing Spider-Man #133. Interesting then that that encounter gets a name-check in this tale. Maybe we have to accept Spider-man really is as big a menace as J Jonah Jameson has always said he is.

The story's entertaining enough but it seems to me the main problem is that its "Giant-Size" tag's completely unearned. The story's too short. When it comes, the ending really is abrupt. It seems like we're about to get another ten-or-so pages of action, as Spidey tracks down and defeats Morbius - and the Man-Wolf, but, instead, from out of nowhere, we get an epilogue. The end of the tale came as such a surprise I genuinely had to check I hadn't turned two pages at once and missed something. Nothing's resolved and the tale seems to serve merely as a means of bringing back John Jameson's furry alter-ego. While I've no objection to his return, the fact he's shown as a mere patsy for Morbius, and no great threat to Spider-Man, does mean you're given no reason to feel excited that he's back.

Speaking of mysteries, I'm still baffled as to how Morbius worked out from a story in the Daily Bugle that the Man-Wolf is in fact John Jameson, and it does seem a remarkable feat for him to just happened to have found the only drunk in New York City who saw the climax of Spider-Man's first fight with the Man-Wolf. In the next panel, Morbius says that finding the gem that causes Jameson's condition was the only bit of luck he needed in the whole plan. Really? Some might say that finding the only person, in a city of some ten million people, who happened to have the information he needed took a fair bit of good fortune.

It's hard for me to comment on the artwork. It's by Gil Kane so I assume it's fine but I'm using a copy of Essential Spider-Man Volume 6 and the quality of reproduction's terrible. It genuinely looks like the it came out of a fax machine. I know the Essentials are supposed to be cheap and cheerful but you can't help feeling it wouldn't have killed Marvel to have got someone in to touch-up the inking so it at least looked publishable.

Giant-Size Spider-Man #1. Dracula

(Cover from July 1974.)

"Ship Of Fiends!"

Written by Len Wein.

Pencilled by Ross Andru.

Inked by Don Heck.

Lettered by John Costanza.

Coloured by Glynis Wein.

In 1971, Roy Thomas wanted to pitch Spider-Man up against Count Dracula but Stan Lee stopped him, arguing that if Spider-Man were to come up against a vampire it had to be a super-villain vampire. Thus was Morbius born and thus did Dracula avoid the indignity of getting a face full of webbing.

Clearly, by 1974, Lee's leash on events had grown somewhat looser because we finally got it. Spider-Man finally came up against the Prince of Darkness.

Actually he didn't. Despite John Romita's dramatic cover to Giant-Size Spider-Man #1, at no point does Spidey come up against Dracula. Peter Parker bumps into him in passing, at one point, but that's the limit to their encounter. Instead they merely happen to be on an ocean liner at the same time as each other, and neither finish the story in any way shape or form aware that the other was around.

The story is that Aunt May's bucking the trend of a lifetime by being at death's door. She's got the flu, and the only person with a vaccine is a doctor travelling on an ocean liner. So Spidey sets off to find that doctor and get that vaccine.

Unfortunately, he's not alone, as both Dracula and a Maggia hood called the Whisperer are after it too. It's clear what the Whisperer wants with the vaccine - money - but it's somewhat more nebulous as to why Vlad wants it. We're told its existence threatens his plans. What his plans are and how exactly a flu vaccine threatens them is never explained. Needless to say, good wins out and Aunt May can look forward to many more years ahead of being at death's door.

Despite the potentially pleasing irony of Spider-Man and Dracula never actually meeting despite being on the same boat and hanging around the same set of characters, you can't help feeling cheated by it. I mean, that's what we're promised on the cover and, without that encounter, what we've basically got is Spider-Man on a boat, up against the sort of ten-a-penny crooks he can take out in his sleep, and Dracula on a boat, up against the sort ten-a-penny crooks he can take out in his sleep. There's no real threat to Spider-Man. There's no real threat to Dracula, so what exactly's supposed to keep us glued to the edge of our seats? There's a nice twist at the end as regards the doctor's identity but also a cop-out, as a character we're told at the beginning is terrified of flying, shows no reluctance to get in a plane and fly off, making you wonder why that character was travelling by boat in the first place. All in all, the events inside aren't really substantial enough to justify this being marketed as some sort of special event. The truth is that Dracula could be removed from this tale and it'd make no difference to anything.

The artwork's a bit of a let-down too. The thing's drawn by Ross Andru with his usual style but inked by Don Heck. With Don Heck you're never quite sure what you're going to get but, on this occasion his inks are OK. They aren't great and in some places he's clearly doing more than just the inking but it doesn't hurt your eyes even if it's not an artistic combination you'd particularly want to see again. It's just that Heck and Andru aren't as a good a combo as we're used to from the monthly comics and, for a Special, you sort of assume you're going to get something better than the norm, not something slightly inferior to it.

The writing's also a bit off in places. Spidey seems to lack his usual ready wit, and Len Wein's dialogue for Dracula feels somewhat laboured, lacking the class we're used to from Marv Wolfman. Frankly, early on, Dracula seems somewhat ineffectual and possibly even a little silly. He's also a right grumpy guts all the way through the tale.

Because it never lives up to - or even tries to live up to - its potential, this is clearly somewhat inferior to the other Giant-Size stories I've been reviewing lately and certainly wouldn't go on my list of must-have Spider-Man tales. There's nothing offensive about it but you can't help remembering that, for the 50 cents it would've cost, you could have got two normal-sized comics. And with titles like The Fantastic Four, The Mighty Thor and The Avengers also on the news racks, you could've spent that money far more wisely.

Giant-Size Spider-Man #2. Shang-Chi and Fu Manchu

(Cover from October 1974.)

"Masterstroke!"

Written by Len Wein.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Al Milgrom.

Lettering by John Costanza.

Colours by Glynis Wein

Argh! I knew it. Drawn back to the site by my lovely pink award, I can't hold off the temptation any longer. I just have to go on and review all those annuals and specials that came out in the time period I've been covering.

I have to make a confession, my favourite Spider-Man tale of that era isn't from the regular mag. It's not even from the regular continuity. It's from Giant-Size Spider-Man, a title that ran for just six issues but they were fairly belting ones. It's from issue #2 and features Spidey teaming up with one of Marvel's less likely superstars; Shang-Chi, master of Kung Fu.

Now, even I can't deny that, on paper, Shang-Chi's an extremely silly character. For one, he's the son of Fu Manchu, a villain who was arch in more ways than one and, for the other, he was clearly created as a cynical marketing exercise to cash-in on the early 1970s' Kung Fu craze. Thanks to that, he should've ended up as no more than the Rocket Racer of his day but, for some reason, none of that bothers me. No matter the daftness of his origins, no matter that he stalks the New York streets in his pyjamas, no matter that he talks to himself, I have a deep and undying love for the Rising Spirit.

Intercepting some crooks, Spider-Man's told they work for the murderous Shang-Chi who's out to destroy a power station. Shang Chi, meanwhile, intercepts some other crooks who tell him they work for the murderous Spider-Man, out to destroy the same power station. Needless to say, it's mere pages before Spidey and Shangy are going at it hammer and tongs. Also needless to say, it's not long before they realise they've been conned. Together, they soon discover the real source of such villainy and team up to prevent Fu Manchu planting a mind-control aerial atop the Empire State Building.

Highlight of the tale has to be Spidey and Shangy leaping from the 86th floor of the Empire State building, with nothing between them and the ground but fresh air. Long-time readers of the strip will of course need no telling just how they manage to hit the street without going splat.

The truth is, long-time readers'll need no telling how anything pans out in this story. The initial misunderstanding between the good guys is the standard means of greeting for any Marvel heroes. Fu Manchu's exactly the villain you'd expect to be behind the plot. Nayland Smith and Black Jack Tar turn up, just as they do in every Shang-Chi tale. Fu Manchu escapes, and the good guys win. But I don't know what it is, I just love this tale. Len Wein's dialogue is fun, and Spidey and Shangy mesh perfectly as characters. I also love the fact that captions relating to Spider-Man are in third-person past-tense while captions relating to Shang-Chi are first-person present-tense. Such a mangling of persons and tenses shouldn't work - and certainly wouldn't in a novel - but, here, it works beautifully. I have a suspicion the direct insight into the martial artist's head and of what he thinks of his new and unconventional ally may be what makes the tale work so well.

Despite all the corniness and racial stereotyping, Fu Manchu's a great villain, almost the archetypal Marvel bad guy created before Marvel ever existed. The artwork's great too, as good an art job as I've ever seen from Ross Andru. His use of "camera angles" is simply startling in panel after panel, even by his standards.

So, there you have it, my favourite Spider-Man tale from the era in question. It might not be an obvious choice and I have a suspicion no one else in the whole world will agree with it but so what? In the end, I can only go for the story that gives me most pleasure and, in my head, on that occasion when Arachnia met south east Asia, a little magic was woven.

Amazing Spider-Man #139. The Grizzly

(Cover from December 1974.)

"Day of the Grizzly!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt.

Lettering by Artie Simek.

Colours by Jan Brunner.

A low-budget TV show tells me, every Saturday, that animals do the funniest things. It's a shame no one's ever told the people at Marvel, where animals just seem to want to kill Spider-Man. Over the years we've had the Rhino, Dr Octopus, the Beetle, the Kangaroo, the Lizard, the Vulture, the Chameleon and pretty much everyone but the Hamster. And now, we get the latest addition to our menacing menagerie. We get the Grizzly.

But everything in its order. Before a man can fight, he must first find a home. After one issue living with Flash, Peter Parker lands himself yet another apartment. How he finds it's something of a mystery. Early on, we're told Liz Allen's found it for him but, when he catches up with her, she's just in the act of buying the newspaper which contains the ad.

That aside, it's an oddly straightforward tale whose lack of twists and turns makes it feel nothing like its twenty pages in length. Such simplicity might leave some feeling they're not getting their money's worth. But, you know what? I like it for that. There must be something about me. I like the previous issue for being straightforward in its plotting and I like this one too. I sometimes get the feeling that, if there were a story where all Peter Parker did was walk from one end of the room to the other, it'd be my favourite tale of all time.

But, of course, this is The Amazing Spider-Man and so something happens. The Grizzly happens.

In truth, he's not that new. He's basically the Rhino in everything but name. And, if the Rhino comes to mind for us, we're clearly not alone as Spidey complains that a blow that's had no effect on him would have dropped the aforementioned rogue. It poses the obvious question of why Gerry Conway didn't just bring back the Rhino but the answer becomes clear later in the tale when we find out he's a mere lackey for another villain - and the Rhino was always too obdurate to settle for being anyone's lackey.

On the pictures front, there's two stand-out moments for me. There's a nice panel where J Jonah Jameson opens the office door to see the Grizzly looming over him and promptly slams it shut again. It's the sort of character based tongue-in-cheek scene that Andru was so good at. There's also a lovely panel where Spidey, in pursuit of his ursine foe, swings past the Chrysler Building.

In truth, my one complaint about this issue would be that, towards its conclusion, Peter Parker gets knocked out way too easily. I mean, despite knowing it's a trap, he just stands there while the Jackal - who must be in full view to do it - hits him in the stomach. Oh, Peter, will you never learn? Clearly not. Not as long as the plot demands that he doesn't.

Amazing Spider-Man #138. The Mindworm

(Cover from November 1974.)

"Madness Means... The Mindworm!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencis by Ross Andru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt.

Lettering by Annette Kawecki.

Colours by Petra Goldberg.

Landscapes. They're not just rectangular things that come in wooden frames. They're also a state of mind. And, in this tale, we find a whole new landscape for our hero, as Spider-Man moves to a new part of New York - and, while he's at it, enters a whole new realm of story-telling.

It's impossible to think of any Spider-Man tale in this run that's so far removed from the norm. In terms of mood, plot and the nature of its villain, maybe it's just me but, apart from the lack of over-verbosity, this could be a Don McGregor tale. You could stick the Mindworm in a Killraven story and his basic nature wouldn't look out of place. It leads to one of the strangest Spider-Man stories ever told, an oddly low-key missive with the Mindworm trying to drain the emotions/souls from a now zombie-esque community. In fact, so odd is it that, if the issue had climaxed with Spidey waking to discover it was all a dream, you wouldn't have been surprised. Because of this oddness and eerieness, I do have to see it as one of the most compelling stories of its era.

On other matters, nice to see Flash Thompson and Peter Parker not only getting on with each other these days but actually sharing an apartment. It just goes to show how the characters have developed over the years that this seems a perfectly natural development rather than forced.

It does raise one question, however.

Is Flash's new mellowness part of that natural progression? Or have months of having his emotions drained by the Mindworm led to it? Needless to say we're given no answers, possibly because it was a matter that hadn't occurred to Gerry Conway. It would've been nice if it had. The idea that Flash and the other residents had somehow been left as better people through the Mindworm's feeding would have had an appealing irony to it.

Amazing Spider-Man #137. Harry Osborn's Green Goblin

(Cover from October 1974.)

"The Green Goblin Strikes!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt

Lettering by Artie Simek.

Colours by P Goldberg.

Elementary, my dear Miss Watson? Not when you're the Amazing Spider-Man. We're told, at the tale's start, that Spidey's been out searching for Harry for two nights in a row and come up with nothing. Then, later in the issue, our hero finally thinks of where to search for him.

His house.

Somehow I don't think Sherlock Holmes needs to fear the competition just yet. Happily Harry's secret hideout is indeed his house and, there, the ensuing mayhem breaks out.

I'm still not sure how Spidey works out that it's Aunt May who's the target of Harry's bomb. He says it's because Harry referred to his planned victim as Pete's, "Most dear." But how was Harry to know our hero regarded May, and not MJ, as his most dear? Plus, given that Petey stole his girlfriend (MJ) from him - and his father's involvement in the death of Pete's previous squeeze - I'd've thought Mary Jane was a nailed-on cert for assassination.

But, whatever the ins and outs of it all, the real strength of this issue is Ross Andru. His use of "camera" angles and character poses is remarkable, especially when Spider-Man and the Goblin fight each other. Their moves are practically a demented form of ballet. And I love the splash page of Gobby closing in on the truck. Like Gil Kane before him, freed from the constraints of gravity that affect real people, Andru seemed to be revelling in the freedom the characters gave him.

Speaking of lacking gravity, MJ's so much cooler in this issue than Gwen ever was. If it'd been Gwen in the hospital bed, she'd have spent all her time simpering and whining and demanding to know just where Pete had disappeared to while she was laid up, then have started drivelling on about how she wished she could believe everyone else was wrong to think him a coward. Come to think of it, if I'd been his girlfriend, I'd have been simpering and whining and demanding to know where he'd been.

But not our MJ. She's made of stronger stuff. Despite having been blown up in the previous issue, we find her full of humour - even when Pete runs out on her. And what's best is she's clearly got a chemistry with Aunt May that Gwen completely lacked.

Good to see Harry reveal Peter Parker's secret identity to the world and have no one believe him; although the reason no one believes him - he's too young to be a villain who's been around for so long - makes no real sense bearing in mind that, in Marvel continuity, Spidey and the Goblin can't have been around for more than two or three years.

Amazing Spider-Man #136. The Green Goblin Mark 2

(Cover from September 1974.)

"The Green Goblin Lives Again!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt.

Lettering by Artie Simek.

Colours by L Lessmann.

Cakes. You can have them and eat them. This issue proves that, in every way possible. How do you bring back the Green Goblin while not devaluing his death?

Easy. Have someone else adopt the guise.

But that isn't as simple as it might sound. We all, I'm sure, remember Blackie Drago, the second Vulture who was never a patch on the original?

Then again, maybe we don't. He wasn't around for long before the creators saw the error of their ways and brought back the inimitable Mr Toomes. And, as for the third Vulture. Can anyone, off the top of their head, even remember what he was called?

So, the Goblin. How do you replace Spider-Man's greatest ever foe with one who isn't going to feel similarly ersatz?

Easy. You replace him with Harry Osborn. Of course, you have to send him mad first - for no normal man can be the Goblin - and Messrs Conway and Andru have more than done that. The Harry we're confronted with is a raving lunatic. Logically, Harry can't work as the Goblin. He's not had the years of practice and experience the original had and he doesn't have the super-strength his father seemed to possess. The original had been showered in experimental chemicals that, presumably, enabled him to slug it out, toe to toe, with Spidey. How Harry can take a punch from Spidey without his head being knocked off is anyone's guess. But somehow, it doesn't seem to matter. The sheer vengeful madness of Harry Osborn somehow makes you willing to turn a blind eye to such blatant logic holes.

On the art front, the thing that leaps out at me this issue is Ross Andru's ability to capture the mood of his characters. Even when Spidey's in his mask, you're never left in any doubt what he's feeling.

Oddity of the tale has to be its ending. I'm not quite sure what it has to do with anything. It comes across like the story lacked a neat resolution and so Andru had to add an extra scene to make it feel like the issue had wrapped up properly.

Amazing Spider-Man #135. The Punisher and the Tarantula

(Cover from August 1974.)

"Shoot-Out In Central Park!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Frank Giacoia.

Lettering by Artie Simek.

Colours by L Lessmann.

There aren't many Spider-Man stories I despise.

This is one of them.

Don't get me wrong. It's perfectly well written and Ross Andru's art is as good as - if not better than - ever. The problem's down to one man.

The Punisher.

Having brought him back at the climax of last issue, the tale adopts a pattern that would become familiar, with the Punisher showing up, thinking Spider-Man's a criminal, trying to kill him and then, having seen the error of his ways, teaming up with him.

And therein lies the problem. While it's easy to believe the Punisher would be willing to team up with Spidey, it's hard to see why Spidey would want to do likewise with the Punisher. Leaving aside the fact that the gun-toting nut-job keeps trying to kill him, the man's a psycho. Take the scene where he and our hero crash the Tarantula's lair. The Punisher instantly opens fire with a machine gun.

That's right, he tries to cut the villain down in a hail of bullets.

Now, the Tarantula might be a nasty piece of work but since when is Spidey going to be happy working with a man whose first instinct is to kill? Unfortunately, there's a moral bankruptcy to the tale. You can argue about whether it's right or not to kill those who are happy to kill others. What can never be claimed is that Spider-Man's happy to see men die. He isn't. No matter who he's come up against, he's never once tried to kill. He even refused to kill the Goblin, a foe he had every reason to want to send to the cemetery. Now, we're supposed to believe he's happy to team up with a man whose whole philosophy must logically be repugnant to him. It's a tale that really needs a proper investigation of the rights and wrongs of the Punisher's mentality, not a cheery acceptance of his ways.

On other matters, Peter Parker tries to disguise his true identity by claiming his disappearance during all the action was down to him having fallen overboard. Leaving aside the fact that, during such a long gap, the boat would've left him far behind, as Spider-Man was last seen jumping into the same water, it's hard to see how he thinks this is going to fool anyone. While it fools MJ, it doesn't con Flash. Big surprise. Turning up in the same place that Spidey was last seen is practically screaming out at everyone, "Hey, look at me! I'm Spider-Man!"

Not that the other passengers are bright enough to work that out. They have to be the most uniformly stupid bunch of people assembled in one place. Having seen our hero fighting the Tarantula and knocking him out - not to mention rescuing a crewman who fell into the water - they then decide Spidey was in league with the villain and try to lynch him. Some people simply don't deserve saving.

Still, there's one good thing comes out of this issue. Its climax; as Harry Osborn finally makes the move into becoming the Green Goblin.

Amazing Spider-Man #134. The Tarantula makes his debut

(Cover from July 1974.)

"Danger Is A Man Named... Tarantula!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Adnru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt.

Lettering by Artie Simek.

Colours by L Lessmann.

Mayors. They don't build 'em tough in New York - at least not in the world of comicdom.

Where most politicians would refuse to deal with kidnappers; here, the city's chief seemingly can't wait to get the Tarantula and his men the money they want. Suddenly, I see why Spider-Man's home town's crawling with more criminals than you can shake a fist at. With jellyfish like that in charge, it must seem like paradise to them.

Still, not to worry. If our politicians won't save us from low-life, there's always the Punisher.

That's right. After an absence of just four issues, Frank Castle is back - and just as stupid and blinkered as always. It's interesting that, at this stage, he's still being billed as a villain, on the cover.

As for the official rogue of the piece, I've always had a soft spot for the Tarantula. In retrospect, it seems astonishing that it took so long into his career before anyone came up with an evil counterpart to Spidey - especially one called Tarantula but it seems that, sometimes, even the obvious can elude everyone.

So, now that he's here, is this brand new villain actually any good?

It depends what you mean by good. I mean, OK, there's no denying that, compared to Spider-Man, he's distinctly second rate, devoid of super-powers and, when you get down to it, little more than a New World version of Batroc the Leaper (or should I say Batroc ze Leepair?). And it's disappointing that what should be Spidey's new arch-nemesis is so easily disposed of. Basically, one punch and it's all over. You can't help feeling that Conway, Andru and Marvel Comics completely threw away a golden chance to create an all-time great villain here.

But, whatever his physical failings, there's an appealing nastiness about him and he has a cool costume. Plus, the venom in his shoes is clearly unbelievably strong because, at one point, it even manages to make the spider emblem disappear from our hero's chest. Man, that's mighty stuff.

On the supporting character front, nice to see Liz Allen completely unbothered by last issue's death of her half-brother. You know? The half-brother whose welfare she was so concerned about? Please, Miss, Gerry Conway's ignoring characterisation again.

Also nice to see Mary Jane back to being flippant in the face of danger. Although, the way Ross Andru draws her when she declares that the boat must be being hi-jacked does make her seem somewhat demented - and, frankly, a bit frightening.

Flash Thompson, after all these years, is finally starting to suspect that Peter Parker's really Spider-Man.

Harry Osborn, after all these years, finally knows that Peter Parker's Spider-Man.

Amazing Spider-Man #133. The Molten Man

(Cover from June 1974.)

"The Molten Man Breaks Out!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt.

Lettering by Artie Simek.

Colours by P Goldberg.

Superman's a jerk. I know this because there's a website dedicated to the fact.

Sadly, he's not the only one. If there's anything this tale proves, it's that Spider-Man can match him, jerkness for jerkness. Even after he knows why the Molten Man's stealing bits of meteorite, he still keeps trying to stop him. Why? By stopping him he's reducing the chances of Raxton being cured, and therefore increasing his menace.

Speaking of the villain, just what's going on with his speech patterns? One moment he's talking like one of the Kingpin's hired goons, the next he's talking like Dr Doom. It comes across like, in different parts of the tale, he's being written by two different writers who lacked the time to swap notes.

Interesting that, last issue, we were told it was radio-active rocks that were causing Peter Parker's brush with death. This issue we're told it's radiation from Raxton's body. Perhaps Gerry Conway thought better of last month's explanation. After all, would deadly, radio-active meteorites really be publicly displayed in glass cases at a museum? There's no denying it makes more sense to blame it on Moltie instead.

Unfortunately, despite that, the rocks still seem to be heavily radio-active anyway. Looking at inconsistencies in the tale - and in Raxton's speech patterns - I'm wondering if it actually had more than one writer. Did editor Roy Thomas have a hand in some parts? Or could Gerry Conway simply not make his mind up about a number of things? Either way, like the damp squib of a death Raxton endures, it's a somewhat disappointing finale to a tale that started so well.

As for the hospital intern who abandons the seemingly dying Peter Parker, to deal with a, "Much more important," matter, I trust he won't be keeping his job for very long.

Amazing Spider-Man #132. The Molten Man

(Cover from May 1974.)

"The Master Plan Of The Molten Man!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Art by John Romita/Paul Reinman/Tony Mortellaro.

Lettering by Artie Simek.

Colours by P Goldberg.

There are times when you just wish Spider-Man would shut up and think before he acts. This issue's a case in point as Gerry Conway continues his seeming quest to revive every old foe our hero has ever met. This time round we get the Molten Man.

And what a welcome return it is. I have to confess that, in the past, Moltie's never really lit my candle but, here, he's terrific, a man driven mad by his affliction, more interested in finding a cure for his plight than causing trouble but forced by his very nature to be a menace. You can't help feeling that, at a time like this Spidey should be more interested in helping Mark Raxton than in fighting him but, like I say, he doesn't always seem to believe in thinking before he acts.

And where does that policy leave him?

It leaves him lying at death's door as the tale draws to a close.

Will he learn anything from this?

Of course he won't.

A welcome return too for Liz Allen/Allan. You could hardly claim she's been missed in all these years but it's oddly pleasing to see her back again. I was going to knock Conway for having Peter say that Mary Jane and Liz never got on in the past, on the grounds that, as far as I was aware, they'd never even met. How wrong I was. There they are, in issue #25, having a pointed, if brief, encounter. Clearly Conway had a better memory for these things than I have.

Really, my only quibble with this tale is the heat issue. Spider-man seems able to hit the 300-degree Molten Man with impunity and to be hit with impunity. Peter Parker having a few blisters or the odd bit of heat rash after their encounter might at least have been some acknowledgement of the difficulties involved in battling such a foe.

Amazing Spider-Man #131. Dr Octopus & Aunt May's wedding

(Cover from April 1974.)

"My Uncle... My Enemy?"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt.

Lettering by Artie Simek.

Colours by P Golderg.

Telly Savalas. He knew of what he spoke.

So, Spider-man flings itself as far into the realms of the unlikely as it could have done had Peter Parker discovered the entrance to Narnia in the back of his wardrobe. Maybe Gerry Conway was saving that storyline for later. It turns out that, unknown to her, Aunt May's inherited a Canadian island containing a nuclear reactor - as you do - so it's off to Canada for the lot of them.

Dr Octopus, meanwhile, seems somewhat confused. We're initially told he wants the island because it contains a nuclear reactor with which he can create weapons to terrorise the world but then, later, he's startled to discover the island contains a nuclear reactor. If he didn't know that, why was he so desperate to get the island in the first place? For that matter, Hammerhead clearly doesn't know the place contains a nuclear reactor either (or even seem to know what a nuclear reactor is!) so the pair of them seem to be battling over a barren lump of rock without either of them having any reason to think it's worth having.

For that matter, where are the plant's workforce? Since when is a potential atomic bomb left unattended?

On top of that. Only last issue it was established that Spidey can't drive. Now he's flying a jet.

And what's happening with Hammerhead? Here, he leaps, feet first, into the world of the lame. After last issue's partial rehabilitation, where he was happy to kill people - even his own flunkies - this issue his men are armed only with stun guns. Stun guns? This is supposed to be a ruthless killer.

Aunt May's stupidity hits new levels as, even as Doc Ock is calling his men dolts in front of her and threatening to have them done away with, she still doesn't seem to register that he might not be the nicest man in the world. Even Octopus producing a secret helicopter - and a secret island - from nowhere doesn't seem to make her seriously question him.

And since when can, "the slightest vibration," cause a nuclear reactor to explode? What idiot designed that thing?

The odd thing is that, despite the ludicrousness of it all, I actually don't mind this story that much. I mean, I could tear it apart all day long but it's a comic book and comic books are an odd sort of art form. Where novels, movies and TV shows can be destroyed by silliness, comic books are strangely immune to it. In fact, they often feed on it. Let's face it, Galactus and the Silver Surfer are pretty ridiculous but that never stopped their first appearance in the Fantastic Four from being a classic. In truth, my real gripe would be that this issue's pretty much action from start to finish, whereas, the appeal of Spider-Man has always lain most in its quieter moments.

This means that the true highlight for me is actually well away from the action.

Back in New York, at the tale's finale, Mary Jane and Betty Brant discuss MJ's relationship with Peter Parker. In a masterful piece of visual story-telling, Ross Andru uses light, shade and a few snowflakes to unveil a darker, more troubled side to MJ than we've ever seen before. I told you Telly Savalas was right. A picture really can paint a thousand words and, here, Ross Andru proves it.

Amazing Spider-Man #130. Hammerhead, the Jackal and Dr Octopus

(Cover from March 1974.)

"Betrayed!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt.

Lettering by Artie Simek.

Colours by P Goldberg.

Spider-Mobile Spider-Mobile. What are we to make of you? So like the Batmobile in so many ways but, in so many ways, not.

Maybe there's something wrong with me but, reviled as it is, I actually like the Spider-Mobile. I mean, I wouldn't want Spidey to have spent the rest of his career driving around in it. It would've somewhat hampered the style of a man we're used to seeing swinging from skyscraper to skyscraper but I can't help feeling that people tend to miss the point of it. It's supposed to be naff. It's supposed to be a travesty. It's supposed to be an embarrassment. It's supposed to be the worst idea ever. And being lumbered with it is exactly the sort of thing that would happen to Spider-Man. It wouldn't happen to Superman. Can you imagine the Thor-Mobile? And it definitely wouldn't happen to the Hulk. But poor old Spidey, that's the way his cookie crumbles. It does also give us a chance to be reminded that our hero can't drive and doesn't care.

On the villain front, Hammerhead's back, the Jackal's back, Dr Octopus is back. We can hardly complain of being short changed this month. In truth, between them, they feature for a surprisingly small percentage of the tale. But that's fine. This issue is prologue to bigger things and it's not like we don't get much action in the meantime.

I'm a lot happier about the return of Ock than Hammerhead but anvil face is handled pretty well this tale. Possibly because we don't get to see a lot of him and also because his men suddenly have laser beams and jet packs and die if they try to say his name. It at least moves him away from the just-a-1930s-style-gangster portrayal we were given on his previous appearance and almost into a modern day Fu Manchu.

As for the tale's conclusion; it's completely ludicrous. It's just about believable that Aunt May might want to marry Doc Ock. She has, after all, singularly failed to spot him for what he is ever since she first encountered him. But would she really not tell her own nephew?

But you know what?

I love it.

Yes, it makes no sense but, to have a hero's closest living relative marry his deadliest enemy who then becomes his uncle is a twist so audacious, ridiculous and Spider-Manny that I just can't resist it.

Amazing Spider-Man #129. The Punisher makes his debut

(Cover from February 1974.)

"The Punisher Strikes Twice!"

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt.

Lettering by J Costanza.

Colours by Dave Hunt.

Clint Eastwood’s got a lot to answer for. In Britain, he inspired the comics world to give us Judge Dredd and, in America, he inspired it to give us the Punisher. I have to say, things may have been bad in the UK in the 1970s but, on this occasion, the Brits came out smiling, having got a character of wit, satire and imagination where the poor old US had to settle for a man in black just out to shoot anyone he took a disliking to. Still, at least we didn’t get Spider-Man coming up against a comedy orang utan. Even the power of Clint wasn’t up to that.

And so it is, that in this tale, we get not one but two new characters; the Jackal and the Punisher. The Jackal’s an odd cove. He seems to be fairly clearly modelled on the Green Goblin, having the same mentality and, apparently, motivations; leading you to assume at first that he must be Harry Osborn.

But then we see Harry back at the apartment he shares with Peter Parker, ranting on to himself about being the Goblin. As Conway was clearly determined, even at this stage, to bring the Goblin back, it does make you wonder why he didn’t just make Gobby the antagonist of the next few tales. Perhaps he felt it was too soon. Or perhaps he wanted to prove he too could successfully create such a character. Whatever it was, bearing in mind the outcome of the whole Jackal storyline, it would’ve made more sense and not done as much damage to the strip’s believability if it had been Harry.

As for Frank Castle, the Punisher, what a loop-fruit he is – not to mention being mind-bogglingly stupid. If he can’t work out that a character who calls himself the Jackal might not be a man to trust, you hold out little hope for him. In retrospect, you do have to wonder why a man who’s so clearly wrong on so many occasions managed to end up with a comic of his own. Still, its a strange world out there and perhaps, in complex times, people want a simple (or even a simple-minded) character to root for.

On the art front, I can’t deny that Ross Andru’s my favourite Spider-Man artist of them all and, to my mind, this is the issue where he hits his peak period, capturing both Peter Parker’s everyday tribulations and Spidey’s action scenes perfectly. The simple truth is I could look at his artwork all day long when it’s like this.

Amazing Spider-Man #128. The Vulture - or is it?

(Cover from January 1974.)

“The Vulture Hangs High!”

Words by Gerry Conway.

Pencils by Ross Andru.

Inks by Giacoia and Hunt.

Lettering by J Costanza.

Colouring by M Brand.

So, in the end, it all comes down to look-alikes.

It has to be said it's a not-altogether satisfactory conclusion to the tale. What're the chances that Dr Shallot's mutation machine would just happen to make him come out looking and (presumably) sounding exactly like the original Vulture? What're the chances that Christine would be identical to her recently murdered flatmate?

There's also the question of Spider-Man's fall at the start of the tale. As we've seen him survive falls from great heights before, and its been long established that he can make parachutes from his webbing, there can't have been anyone convinced he was going to die. Well, apart from Spidey who seems to have completely forgotten that he can make a parachute and thus creates a trampoline - something else it's been long established he can do.

For that matter, the webster's not the only one who seems to be suffering amnesia about the extent of his abilities. The Vulture also seems to have forgotten he has claws that can tear through the "protective" webbing Spider-Man throws around Mary Jane to keep him at bay.

Spidey also does something monumentally stupid at the finale, where the exposition dump he launches into gives Christine so many clues to his true identity that she - or Shallot - would hardly have to be Miss Marple to find out who he really is. Again, it's Conway having characters doing things to service the needs of the story rather than things they'd actually do.

So, all in all, while the issue has a nice feel to it and is appealingly drawn by Ross Andru who's really getting into the strip now, it has to be put down as a bit of a failure.

Oh well, at least next issue promises so much more.