Maximum Cross-Overkill: Assessing the Spider-Man ‘Clone Saga’ Twenty Years after its (Merciful) End / R. W. Watkins

Maximum Cross-Overkill:

Assessing the Spider-Man ‘Clone Saga’

Twenty Years after its (Merciful) End

R. W. Watkins

Has there ever been a story arc or subplot in the history of Spider-Man comics—indeed, Marvel Comics in general—more derided and despised than the so-called ‘Clone Saga’? Conceived of, reportedly, by Terry Kavanagh and Howard Mackie, this controversial series of storylines dominated all four regular Spider-Man titles and several ‘upstart’ and mini series between 1994 and 1996. Many people also credit it (fully or partially) with the disenfranchisement of longtime Spider-Man fans, Marvel’s 1996 bankruptcy filing, and the gradual collapse of mainstream comics in general. Given the fact that 2016 marks the twentieth anniversary of this ‘saga’’s merciful end, I thought it appropriate that I follow the lead of Mark Ginocchio and a few other comics analysts, and attempt to objectively assess these story arcs for myself. Like so many others during this dubious phase in Spider-Man comics, I turned away from the titles—indeed, away from contemporary Marvel Comics outright; so for me this little endeavour has meant reading the majority of these comics for the first time.

The ‘Clone Saga’ finds its origins in a 1974–75 storyline from Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 139 through 150, retronymically referred to as ‘The Original Clone Saga’. Scripted by Gerry Conway, this clone story (which starts out as little more than a curious subplot) allowed Marvel the opportunity to resurrect Gwen Stacy (controversially slain in Amazing Spider-Man No. 121) by having her former science professor and his assistant clone the young woman as a means of indulging the professor’s own murky infatuation with her. Professor Miles Warren, who has adopted the rather Goblinesque guise of the Jackal, also clones Peter Parker, whom (at some indistinct point) he comes to realise is the alter ego of Spider-Man. The Jackal abducts Ned Leeds and secures him beneath a bomb attached to a wall inside Shea Stadium. The bomb is connected to one of the large sports clocks, and (by means of some unexplained technology) can only be deactivated by the real Spider-Man, thereby forcing the superhero and his memory-sharing clone to do battle so that each might establish and utilise his authenticity. In the end, the Jackal comes to his senses and blows himself up while freeing Leeds, and the Stacy clone walks away from ‘her’ life in Queens as if she were a character in a Truffaut film. Why Kavanagh and Mackie chose to revisit a storyline so sensational, full of holes, and ill-conceived to begin with is anyone’s guess.

Dubious derivations aside, the first problem to face the unsuspecting reader of this so-called saga involves its perimeters: exactly where to begin, specifically. Although a recurring mysterious figure is revealed to be a Peter Parker doppelganger on the final page of Spectacular Spider-Man No. 216, it is Web of Spider-Man No. 117 that is supposedly the ‘official’ introductory issue into the two-year nightmare that came to be known as the ‘Clone Saga’. The first in a series of so-called ‘flip books’, each ‘side’ of this issue constitutes the initial installment in a story arc.

Scripted by Terry Kavanagh and drawn by Steven Butler, ‘Power and Responsibility’ finds an enraged Spider-Man confronting his long-lost clone, Ben Reilly, in a fit of denial. The potential usurper proves to be a far worthier adversary than what our unaccepting hero has anticipated, however, and Spider-Man is eventually knocked unconscious. No sooner does he regain consciousness than he finds himself being coerced by some astral figure of a female into visiting the Ravencroft Institute – some bizarre psychiatric asylum for “mentally unstable super-beings”. The asylum is being forcefully taken over by a motley crew of sinister and violent villains led by a seemingly amoral, white-haired Lemmy look-alike known as Dr. Judas Traveller. It is Traveller’s female assistant, Chakra, whose astral form delivers his ultimatum to Spider-Man: come to the Institute, or expect the mass execution of its inmates. To make matters worse (and even more inane), Spider-Man has been assured that if he is successful in preventing the deaths of the inmates (including the likes of Carnage and the Chameleon), then Traveller shall subsequently set them free upon the world. Obviously, this is a no-win situation and test of ethics that only the most altruistic (like Spider-Man) would be bothered with. Meanwhile, the clone Ben Reilly is left to decide whether he should keep an eye out for his vulnerable “mirror image”—who he last sees swinging off towards the Ravencroft Institute—or go visit the coma-stricken May Parker (to whom he feels familially indebted) at the hospital.

The other ‘side’ of the comic serves as more or less a backup story to the ‘main feature’. ‘The Double, Part 1: Born Again’ was devised to bring the reader up to speed with the Parker clone’s lab-tank birth (rebirth?), seemingly. With the aid of a somewhat Ditko-reminiscent Liam Sharp for artist, writer J. M. DeMatteis foists Professor Miles Warren upon an unsuspecting Gen-Y adolescent readership – which is arrogantly expected to know the obscure character’s history without as much as a background synopsis provided in the extensive narrative captions. The archetypally envisioned mad professor has created this clone in his secret lab, and is shaping its Parker/Spidey consciousness with a combination of mind-controlling drugs and hypno-therapy – augmented with the occasional sadistic beating that leaves the poor fellow cowering in his cramped room for extended periods. Apparently, in good time, Warren inexplicably plans on unleashing him upon the world as a Spider-Man imposter. These are the dubious details of Ben Reilly’s origin that Dematteis—in his official guise as writer—affords us. The little matter of exactly why this Parker clone was born already a young man in his (ostensibly) twenties is conveniently avoided, however. Unlike Charlton’s Morlock, at least he wasn’t born already wearing his uniform, I guess. Whatever the case, by story’s ‘end’, the clone has turned on his creator and is now breaking out of the lab and into the New York night.

The two related storylines continue from there in Amazing Spider-Man No. 394. J. M. DeMatteis gets the writing credit for the second installment of ‘Power and Responsibility’, but it’s not something that the gentleman would want to top his résumé, I’m guessing. ‘Break-down’ is a typically drawn-out psychological account of Judas Traveller and his cronies—who include a ghoulish Grim Reaper-type called Scrier, most notably—demonstrating their considerable powers over Spider-Man and the super-villain inmates at Ravencroft Institute. In other words, very little of any significance happens at the asylum this time around. In the meantime, an ambivalent Mary Jane Watson is taking a break from New York in the midst of all the Parker family problems to visit her estranged father and sister in Pittsburgh. Similarly but more importantly, poor Ben Reilly—the Parker/Spider clone—wanders the New York night, looking in on the coma-stricken May Parker at the hospital, where he too is confronted by the astral projection of the mysterious Chakra. The installment ends with Chakra dealing him a dilemma not unlike that which has been dealt Spider-Man: let Spider-Man die at the asylum and assume his identity, or come with Chakra to Ravencroft and risk his life saving this man “whose death would set [him] free”.

As for the backup story, ‘The Double’, ‘Part 2: No Escape’ features “the Spider-Man clone” (as the captions continue to refer to him) climbing maniacally around New York buildings with Professor Warren in his Jackal guise pursuing him. The Gwen Stacy clone also puts in an appearance—albeit an overly bodacious one courtesy of artist Liam Sharp. Why writer J. M. DeMatteis and his Marvel overseers would assume that teenaged readers in 1994 would be able to jump into a surrealistic scenario that finds its origins in a 1974 storyline—without even the benefit of a synopsis, yet—is beyond me. Maybe they just figured that no-one actually read such mainstream superhero comics by the mid 1990s. (But the same might be said for the other side of this flip comic—indeed, this whole two-year clone fiasco in general.)

The pointlessly drawn-out plots of these storylines are subconsciously acknowledged as ‘Power and Responsibility’ resumes in the ‘adjectiveless’ Spider-Man No. 51. “At last! Spider-Man’s clone swings into action...” states the blurb on the issue’s front cover. The sad truth of the matter, however, is that he doesn’t as much “swing in” as what he crawls in under duress—and in the name of Aunt May (Reilly repeatedly credits the woman as the impetus for his actions to the point of sheer cheesiness). Scripted by Howard Mackie and drawn by Tom Lyle, ‘A Heart Beat Away’ finds a mind-manipulated Spider-Man (conveniently) battling the Green Goblin, Kraven and other super-villains in his imagination at Ravencroft while his clone—who has accepted Chakra’s invitation and opted to rescue Spider-Man from the institute—does battle with Judas Traveller’s enforcers: the highly disciplined Boone and the trigger-happy (female) Medea. A clone getting clobbered after being invited to save his ‘father’ from certain execution by a mysterious doctor whose main prerogative is studying the habits of super-beings – indeed, the plot of this third installment is nightmarish in an Ed Wood Jr. kind of way. Unlike Wood at his ‘best’, however, it doesn’t even succeed on the ‘so bad, it’s good’ level. By Part 3’s end, Spider-Man has broken free from the brain-draining shackles that hold him and joined forces with his clone. Of course, in the final panel Dr. Traveller steps in and inexplicably informs the duo that they aren’t going anywhere... “not just yet”. Indeed, writer J. M. DeMatteis is not letting us readers off that mercifully.

Not surprisingly, as ‘The Double’ storyline unfolds in Spider-Man No. 51, it comes to rely more and more on a clichéd psychological narrative, hackneyed themes (e.g., Peter’s Guilt and Atonement), and painful reiterations of strip-defining moments (e.g., the deaths of Uncle Ben Parker and Gwen Stacy). These are simply the earmarks of bad comic-writing on the part of J. M. DeMatteis. Not surprisingly, the plot is rendered boring and immemorable as a result.

‘The Double’ storyline concludes with Part 4 in Spectacular Spider-Man No. 217. Narrated by Parker, ‘The Burial’ is an unabashed rehash of the aforementioned plot of Amazing Spider-Man No. 149. It features Spider-Man and his clone—dressed identically in the red and blue Spidey uniform of tradition—exchanging blows over who should rescue a bound and gagged Ned Leeds, whom the Jackal has suspended from a wall of Shea Stadium, a rather technologically backdated bomb attached beside him. (This sequence of panels is an Their eager efforts are unnecessary, however, when (for whatever unclear reason) the Gwen Stacy clone suddenly pulls the mask off the Jackal, and the Professor Warren underneath experiences a guilt-ridden epiphany—compelling him to lunge forward and slash the rope from which Leeds is dangling. Leeds falls into the arms of the two Spider-Men, and the professor is conveniently blown to smithereens (at least for now). In the aftermath, Spider-Man retreats to his apartment, where he witnesses wife Mary Jane embracing Ben Reilly, the supposed clone. It is at this moment that Parker/Spider-Man experiences what he calls a “psychic explosion”, ever so arbitrarily realising that it is actually he that is indeed the clone. Thus beginneth the real nightmare—especially for readers.

Taken as a whole, ‘The Double’ storyline comes across as a group of loosely connected dream segments to compliment the ‘Power and Responsibility’ arc – not unlike the otherworldly dream sequences in Twin Peaks a few short years earlier. Maybe at the hands of another writer in a better context this could have worked wonderfully. But in the midst of such an ill-conceived so-called ‘saga’ and with DeMatteis at the scripting helm, what the ‘The Double’ amounts to is little more than a series of bad allegories filled with hackneyed themes and recycled scenarios. Its only saving grace may be Liam Sharp’s art, which—in spite of the overly chesty depictions of Gwen—does appear genuinely surreal, lush and nightmarish.

On the other hand, the fourth and final installment of ‘Power and Responsibility’ in Spectacular Spider-Man No. 217 is actually somewhat more readable than the previous installments by virtue of Tom DeFalco’s scripting—and certainly the art of Sal Buscema is a major improvement over that of Mark Bagley; but it’s simply not enough to salvage the story arc from the depths of mediocrity. This time around, Spider-Man and Reilly must face the psychotic inmates en masse whilst Traveller looks on in the name of social science and keeps the equally psychotic Medea in line. Carnage puts in a maniacal appearance, as does Wild Whip – a Jokeresque villain familiar to Reilly on some unexplained level, and easily one of the most ridiculous characters conceived in the latter decades of merry Marveldom. In the end, the energy barrier surrounding the Ravencroft Institute lifts as Dr. Traveller and his entourage pull a disappearing act – leaving not a trace of physical evidence other than a letter from Traveller postmarked a week earlier, informing Dr. Kafka that he regrettably cannot accept her invitation to visit owing to prior commitments. The credibility of Traveller’s entire four-part appearance is immediately called into question – not unlike David Bowie’s appearance in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, I might add a little perversely.

Although the overall story doesn’t really improve with this installment, at least DeFalco’s dialogue and narration are considerably more readable than DeMatteis’s monotonous psycho-babble. Buscema’s renderings of Traveller’s hypnotic eyes and the criminally insane inmates are genuinely nightmarish, and more than compensate for a greatly diminished psychological angle in the scripting. True, his depictions of Mary Jane in most of the panels that comprise her brief appearance (aboard an aeroplane, en route to her family in Pittsburgh) could have used a little more polish, but considered in the greater scheme of things, Buscema’s art provides something of a merciful end to this bizarre story arc.

‘Back from the Edge’ (Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 395 and 396; Spectacular Spider-Man Nos. 218 and 219)

This pointless story arc involves a scantily clad Nocturne and an ambivalent Puma appearing out of nowhere and wreaking havoc for unclear reasons. Spider-Man intervenes and some lessons are learned in the process (and little else). Then a reticent Owl and a revitalised Vulture team up for the sake of giving the webslinger and Daredevil someone or something to fight. In the process, Spider-Man is infected with some deadly experimental virus courtesy of the Vulture’s pet vultures. Meanwhile, Mary Jane is busy making amends with her freelance-writer father and sister in Pittsburgh (and thereby eradicating whatever appealing mystery still surrounded her once-elusive family background). There is only the one brief cameo of the mysterious Ben Reilly (in Spectacular Spider-Man No. 218), and no mention made of the possibility that Parker might actually be the clone. Of course, there are philosophical and deeply psychological ‘soliloquies’ all over the place, with everyone divulging their ‘issues’ and whining their little hearts out. It’s amazing – the negative impact that a combination of Watchmen, Oprah Winfrey and Gen-X cynicism had had upon Marvel Comics by the mid 1990s. Not surprisingly, the ‘writing’ appears to have been done completely off the cuff, with DeMatteis receiving credit on the Amazing Spider-Man issues, and DeFalco being credited with the plotting of the Spectacular Spider-Man installments while Todd Dezago takes credit for the scripting.

The only positive things that can be said for this ‘story’ arc involve the art.

Maybe it’s Bob Sharen’s colouring; or the moody Forest Hills setting—complete with Midtown High and the old Parker house amidst an evening’s wind and rain; but Mark Bagley’s art and Larry Mahlstedt’s inking are surprisingly effective in Amazing Spider-Man No. 395, whatever the reason. Peter Parker and Mary Jane come off looking as ugly as sin, mind you, but there is a dark beauty and consistency in these panels that was rarely seen during Bagley’s tenure on the title (1991–1996). Their work holds up fairly well in No. 396, too, but not with the same moodiness and consistency. The duo obviously required dreary weather and the classic Forest Hills setting of the Ditko years to bring out the best in themselves.

Sal Buscema’s art is consistent as ever in the Spectacular Spider-Man installments; however, witnessed in the context of this four-part storyline, it is actually eclipsed by Bagley and Mahlstedt’s panels in Amazing No. 395. Also, from my perspective, Scott Hanna’s inking doesn’t do Buscema’s art justice in No. 219; although—quite ironically—his detailed depictions of Mary Jane in a wide range of moods reveal at least an interest in the character which surpassed that of Buscema during this period.

‘The Exile Returns’ (Web of Spider-Man Nos. 118 and 119; Spider-Man Nos. 52 and 53)

‘The Exile Returns’ serves as a vehicle for the official crime-fighting debut of the clone as he comes to be known as ‘the Scarlet Spider’ – a rather unimaginative name given him on the fictional level by Daily Bugle reporter/journalist Ken Ellis in Spider-Man No. 52. Of course, the name finds its origins in the character’s costume choice of red ‘tights’ and a spider-emblazoned hip-hop-style ‘hoodie’ (a plaid flannel shirt would have been considered too ‘grunge’ and Northwestern, I’m reasoning). The former garment’s tailor goes uncredited, while the latter garment is obtained inexplicably from New York’s Museum of Natural History and subsequently de-sleeved.

To make things interesting—or at least sensational, the storyline’s ‘writers’ (credited as Terry Kavanagh and Howard Mackie in the Web and Spider-Man installments respectively) pit the newfangled superhero against Spider-Man arch-nemesis Venom, who by this time had been rendered Hulk-like in his demeanor for the sake of his own string of limited series (starting with Venom: Lethal Protector in 1993). Apparently, Venom—who has reached some sort of agreement with Spider-Man to keep the peace—doesn’t take nicely to the costumed Reilly, whom he sees as an “impostor”. The contrived and unremarkable tale is dragged out unnecessarily over four issues, with the introduction of the mysterious Kaine and an appearance by the female symbiote known as Scream being the only moments that are in any way interesting or memorable. The Web of Spider-Man installments are also heavy on the nostalgia, featuring flashbacks to Amazing Fantasy No. 15 and Amazing Spider-Man No. 121, as well as an appearance by a ‘made-over’ Betty Brant. The story arc concludes with Eddie Brock and the alien costume being carted away after the Venom symbiote succumbs to the Scarlet Spider’s new enhanced ‘impact’ webbing and ‘stingers’.

Visually, there’s nothing particularly remarkable about the art of Steven Butler (in Web of Spider-Man) or Tom Lyle (in Spider-Man) to my eye. However, owing mainly to Randy Emberlin’s inking—which can be best described as intense, the Web installments have a slight edge over their ‘adjectiveless’ counterparts.

When all is said and done, ‘The Exile Returns’ is incontrovertibly not a Spider-Man story. Yes, the Scarlet Spider possesses many of the same attributes as the comics’ namesake; but at its core, the story is nothing more than a vehicle by which to populate two of the Spider-Man titles with a new character. It’s obvious that by the mid ’90s Marvel expansionism had run its course and that the legendary ‘bullpen’ was running out of ideas. From this angle, such Spider-Man and Web of Spider-Man issues can be seen today as little more than the equivalent of Supergirl comics with a Superman cover.

‘Web of Death’ (Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 397 and 398; Spectacular Spider-Man Nos. 220 and 221)

The blurb on the front cover of Amazing Spider-Man No. 397 purports that this shall be “the last Spidey / Doc Ock saga of all time...!” Yeah, right. That should tell you everything you need to know about the ‘seriousness’ of this DeMatteis/DeFalco story – not to mention the sincerity of Marvel’s editorial team at this point.

Simply put, ‘Web of Death’ is a sensational storyline of macabre extremes. Still infected by the Vulture’s experimental virus (as related in ‘Back from the Edge’), a dying Spider-Man is dragged back to Doctor Octopus’s laboratory by an uncharacteristically empathetic Ock and his new super-Amazon girlfriend known as Stunner (a name which sounds like it was coined between drunken turns at the Bugs Bunny pinball machine during a late-afternoon visit to a nearby bar and grill). What a middle-aged-to-elderly scientist who was once betrothed to Aunt May Parker (Amazing Spider-Man No. 131) is doing with an oversized twenty-something Barbie is beyond me. Whatever the excuse, after finally being administered a (supposedly) successful antidote, Spider-Man indeed recovers in a sudden outburst of energy—belting Stunner in the process, poor girl. His recovery is short-lived, however, for he begins experiencing a setback a few hours later, after reuniting romantically with Mary Jane following her return from visiting family in Pittsburgh. This setback is momentarily forgotten when Mary Jane somewhat reluctantly announces that she is pregnant—presumably with his child (we hope). After visiting with his dying Aunt May at the hospital, Peter takes Mary Jane out for a celebratory dinner at a posh restaurant. It is while there that he experiences a virus-related dizzy spell, to which a kindly older fellow—who seems to know the Parkers—responds by insisting that Mary Jane take him home for his health’s sake. The middle-aged gentleman turns out to be none other than—you guessed it—Doc Ock, whom Peter proceeds to confront after changing into his Spider-Man guise. A relatively brief battle ensues, with the ‘good’ doctor eventually persuading our hero to come with him to his laboratory for the testing of a new life-saving serum in hope that they “can begin the dance anew”. The antidote ingested, an unconscious Parker goes into a purgatorial wormhole, where he encounters all his dead relatives and a nasty Norman Osborn before—wait for it—being brought back to the land of the living by virtue of Doctor Octopus’s mouth to mouth resuscitation! I’m telling you, the macabre sight of Doc Ock performing the ‘kiss of life’ on an unmasked Spider-Man should give any sentient human born before 1980 an instant ulcer. Things get even stranger, though, when Ock has Stunner tip off the police to his whereabouts so that he can relax in prison whilst the webslinger makes a full recovery. [One may need to relax in a cool bath with a bottle of Scotch by the time this story arc is over!] The final segment of the yarn focusses on a rejuvenated Peter and an elated Mary Jane as they assemble an Acme baby crib at their apartment. Meanwhile, the mysterious Kaine—who has been dogging all the major players throughout this storyline—rains on Ock’s parade by suddenly gassing his girlfriend and proceeding to rip into the paddy wagon that’s transporting him. A vicious fight ensues, with Kaine pronouncing inexplicably that Octopus “must die!” Spectacular Spider-Man No. 221 closes with a recovered Stunner discovering her beau’s battered body lying unconscious in a pool of blood.

Somewhat surprisingly—given the extreme, game-changing plot developments—Mark Bagley’s contributions (in Amazing Spider-Man) to ‘Web of Death’ are only slightly more remarkable on a visual level than those of Butler and Lyle in ‘The Exile Returns’. His depictions of Stunner and Mary Jane are particularly unattractive; the latter looking downright god-awful and battleaxe-like in some panels from ASM #398. (Owing to Larry Mahlstedt’s inking, virtually all of Bagley’s characters during this period look fifteen to twenty years older than what they’re supposed to be.) On the other hand, Sal Buscema’s art in the two Spectacular Spider-Man issues truly shine with Bill Sienkiewicz handling the inking. The facial expressions of Peter, Ock, and the Green Goblin / Harry Osborn in the near-death sequence of No. 221 are particularly powerful. The idea of Doctor Octopus performing mouth to mouth resuscitation is even made slightly more palpable in their talented hands.

The major flaw in ‘Web of Death’ is, as usual, the writing—or lack thereof. Major plot developments like Spider-Man’s near-death experience and Mary Jane’s pregnancy deserve a better overall story to encapsulate them. The idea of Doc Ock allowing himself to be taken into custody while his heroic adversary recovers is the sort of writing that would have been seen as kitschy and juvenile by even early to mid 1960s standards. In fact, it’s the sort of writing that one associates with 1950s and ’60s Batman. Considered from the most objective angle, such a storyline reduces Spider-Man and Doctor Octopus to the level of sheep-dog Sam and coyote Ralph in the old Warner Brothers cartoons.

[Note: Amazing Spider-Man No. 397 and Spectacular Spider-Man No. 220 are similar to the four issues that comprise the ‘Power and Responsibility’ and ‘The Double’ story arcs in that they are ‘Fabulous Flip Books’. In the case of these two issues, the backup features are (abridged) textual short stories from an anthology entitled The Ultimate Spider-Man, which was supposedly published by the (now defunct) Byron Priess Multimedia company in conjunction with Berkley Books in late 1994.]

‘Web of Life’ (Web of Spider-Man Nos. 120 and 121; Spider-Man Nos. 54 and 55)

As was the case with ‘The Exile Returns’, the ‘Web of Life’ story arc serves as nothing more than a vehicle by which to populate two of the Spider-Man titles with a new character. The plot in which the Scarlet Spider (Ben Reilly) becomes entangled is equally as contrived in this storyline as the former, and even more confusing overall.

To put it concisely, the son of the late Kraven The Hunter wishes to avenge his mad father’s suicidal death by hunting down and killing Spider-Man. The elusive Kaine, however, appears to have his own (unclear) plans for Spider-Man, and does his damnedest to prevent this ‘Grim Hunter’ (as the young Kravinoff calls himself) from interfering. The Grim Hunter has the keen drug-induced olfactory sense of his late father, though, and soon detects that the Scarlet Spider’s scent is indeed distinct from that of Spider-Man. Undiscouraged, he sets off in search of his true quarry. Not unexpectedly, the Scarlet Spider swings off through the New York snowstorm, attempting to reach Parker at his apartment and warn him before the mad junior Hunter sniffs him out. Kaine, of course, wishes neither Hunter nor Scarlet Spider to interfere with the Parkers’ destiny, and comes out swinging against both. (He keeps having these fun visions of Mary Jane Parker being murdered, you know.) At this point we are still not quite sure whether he wishes to see the Parkers harmed or saved. In Web #120 he bemoans the fact that his latest vision of Mary Jane’s murdered body “is unbearable”. “I must act—!” he concludes before dropping out of sight. On the other hand, in Web #121 he states that he “won’t allow Reilly to interfere with [his] plans for Peter and Mary Jane Parker.” In Spider-Man #55, however, he observes that Mary Jane shall be murdered soon, and expresses concern that it may be at the hands of the Grim Hunter. “I have no choice,” he tells himself. “My role is cast. I must find her... now!” Sound confusing? I’m afraid it gets only worse.

On his way towards the Parker abode (in Web #121), the Scarlet Spider is violently intercepted by Kaine, and the pair proceed to spar and shoot the breeze as if they had been old high-school adversaries. “He recognizes me...” realises Reilly beneath the scarlet mask. “But how?!” How indeed. Is there something I missed—say, another story arc or mini-series I’m supposed to be reading simultaneously? Similar questions arise when Reilly telephones heretofore unseen scientist Seward Trainer at his private lab in Massachusetts in order to inform him of his “disturbing dreams”. “Could degeneration have started already?” Reilly asks the professor in Spider-Man #54. Dr. Trainer chastises him for leaving before his testing had been finished, and subsequently visits him in New York in Spider-Man #55. The reader is left wondering how a benevolent professor could fit into the scenario of the clone Reilly’s escape from Professor ‘Jackal’ Warren’s dubious lab. The lack of narrative captions doesn’t help. (“Who is this mysterious stranger and what is his connection to Spider-Man?!” Stan Lee or Roy Thomas would have at least written in the old days.) Whatever the connexion, by storyline’s end the Grim Hunter lies dead at the hands of Kaine after each has battled on and off with the Parker-protecting Scarlet Spider.

Much of this confusion in ‘Web of Life’ can be attributed to the fact that no fewer than three writers, four artists and five inkers contributed to the four meagre issues that comprise it. In other words, no two people were on the same page both figuratively and literally in this story arc. The already-compromised visions of Terry Kavanagh and Howard Mackie were further diluted by the contributions of guest scripter Todd DeZago in Web #121. Again, welcome to Marvel in the mid 1990s. To paraphrase poet F. R. Scott (1899–1985), they never let their on-the-one-hand know what their on-the-other-hand was doing. How can one hope to maintain any degree of continuity or consistency with so many people involved in a four-issue storyline spread out over two titles?

And consistency is merely a pipe dream as far as the visual aspects of this story arc go. Steven Butler (Web #120) was replaced with Phil Gosier for Web #121, and both artists were ‘augmented’ by two inkers (Randy Emberlin, with Don Hudson on the former issue, Sam de la Rosa on the latter). It was a very similar story with the Spider-Man installments: artist Tom Lyle and inker Scott Hanna were replaced with Mike Manley and Joe Rubinstein for #55. As any damn fool knows, too many cooks spoil the broth. ‘Thankfully’, computer programs were playing a much larger role in comics art by the mid 1990s, and subsequently much of said art was beginning to look generic and indistinguishable from the next person’s art anyway. If one can see past the layers of ink and Comicraft lettering, however, one must conclude that it was replacement artist Mike Manley (probably best known at the time as co-creator of Darkhawk) who turned in the best drawings for ‘Web of Life’. His images of the Scarlet Spider seeking out the Parkers’ apartment in the blizzard and peeking in the window serve as a pleasant trip back to the early days of John Romita.

Speaking of trips to yesteryear, like in most Spider-Man storylines during this period—both within the perimeters of the so-called ‘Clone Saga’ and beyond (e.g., Marvels No. 4, Untold Tales of Spider-Man, Amazing Fantasy Nos. 16–18), nostalgia and retrofitting play a strong hand in ‘Web of Life’. For example, in Web #120, an uncharacteristically outspoken Betty Brant ‘shares a moment’ in her backyard with the Scarlet Spider, and the latter’s memories of Peter Parker’s early life come racing back. Brant, it should be noted, had apparently been re-envisioned as an aggressive reporter by the time of this story arc. Whatever the reason for this dubious transformation, the devout yet hysterical secretary of the 1960s and ’70s had been dumped in favour of Margot Kidder (or Barbara Stanwyck in Meet John Doe). More obviously, Spider-Man No. 54 opens with the Scarlet One sneaking into the Daily Bugle offices late at night, discovering to his chagrin that the “place is empty!” “Not like in the old days,” he tells his sentimental self. “Robbie. Ned Leeds. Ben Urich. They all practically lived here.” These reminiscences are augmented visually by Tom Lyle’s ghost-like figures of The Daily Bugle’s past. Ironically, it may be the most interesting sequence from the entire issue. Also, Web #120 ends and Spider-Man #55 begins with Reilly left for dead on a snow-covered rooftop by Kaine – the final panels and opening splash page a throwback to those of Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 48 and 49, in which the original Webbed Wonder undergoes the same treatment at the hands of the second Vulture (Blackie Drago).

There are also panels from the fourth installment of ‘Web of Life’ that strike me as rather revealing on a sociological level. In Spider-Man No. 55, the Scarlet clone stares into the Parkers’ empty apartment and bemoans his life situation in comparison to Peter’s. “So this is where he lives,” observes Reilly. “Where he has a life. A home... A family. Things I could never dare hope for... Never dare dream.” He goes on to tell himself that he does, however, dream—of “the way things could have been”; but such dreams only serve to remind him of “how empty [his] life is”. Such sentiments sound like the stereotypic whinings of the disenfranchised members of Generation X who had become the focus of the media by the early to mid 1990s. I therefore can’t help but wonder if such a character had been developed in order to appeal to this notable segment of the population.

[Note: Web of Spider-Man No. 120 and Spider-Man No. 54 were also ‘flip books’. In the case of these two issues, the backup features are abridged versions of textual short stories from an anthology entitled The Ultimate Spider-Man [see above].

‘Smoke and Mirrors’ (Web of Spider-Man No. 122, Amazing Spider-Man No. 399, Spider-Man No. 56)

This three-part story arc finds Spider-Man joining forces with the Scarlet Spider in a plot where the lines between vision and fiction on one hand and truth and reality on the other become hopelessly and irreparably blurred.

At its outset, Peter Parker is increasingly hampered by strange visions (a taunting Jackal; the ‘birth’ of his clone; Mary Jane turning into the late Gwen Stacy in his arms) on par with Ben Reilly’s bizarre dreams in the ‘Web of Life’ storyline. Initially, Parker believes these dark visions to be flashbacks to his past – a lingering symptom of the deadly virus with which the Vulture’s birds infected him (in the ‘Back from the Edge’ story arc). After he experiences a vision of the Scarlet Spider lying unconscious in the fallen snow of a wilderness hillside, however, he soon comes to realise that such mental episodes cannot be memories – they must be revelations of the present. Fearing for his clone’s life, he swings off through the snowstorm towards the wilds of northern New York, where his Scarlet counterpart has been given a considerable beating by a bulky defective creation of Professor Miles Warren known simply as the Guardian. Reilly has himself been led into the northern country by what he describes as “instinct” or “intuition” associated with his own visions of the Jackal.

Once Spidey has arrived and joined forces with the recovering Reilly, the two proceed to penetrate a large metal doorway that (ostensibly) leads to nowhere (it is portrayed ‘in the round’ and appears to be less than three decimetres in depth). The free-standing structure is not unlike Doctor Who’s tardis, however, in that its interior is vastly larger than its apparent exterior. Inside the bizarre structure, our two webslinging heroes are greeted and escorted about by ‘Jack’ – a miniature version of the Jackal who has the persona and even looks of Jack Nicholson. After the aforementioned Guardian comes crashing in, attacking the webbed duo and making demands of an unseen power (“Make the pain stop!”) before dying in their midst, we learn from Jack that the Guardian and him are the results of Professor Warren’s early cloning experiments, and that such defectives—marked by the dark vein-like malignancies that gradually engulf their epidermis—are “all from the same genetic soup”. (Given his appearance, one is left to assume that the enigmatic Kaine must be also a product of Warren’s early genetic meddling.) It is at this point that the Jackal himself makes a dramatic appearance, suddenly (and nakedly) departing the cellular regeneration chamber where he has been existing consciously for some five years. The former Professor Warren—who seems to have developed a satiric sense of humour somewhere along the way—proceeds to lecture the Spider-heroes on his successes and failures in genetic engineering, informing the original webslinger in the process that he too is also a clone. After receiving a few blows from an increasingly frustrated Spider-Man, the Jackal opens another regeneration chamber with the intention of revealing the real Peter Parker. The Jackal supposedly opens the wrong chamber, however, and what he reveals is not Aunt May’s original nephew, but rather what he claims to be the original Gwen Stacy. Amazing Spider-Man No. 399 ends with a full-page image of a completely nude Gwen—her breasts and vagina covered by wisps of strategically drawn ‘cryogenic mist’, of course.

From this point onward, the storyline devolves into a confusing comedy of errors where nothing much really happens. Gwen gets dressed in the midst of the Spider-heroes’ stares and the Jackal’s dirty jokes, and then wanders off to one side with Peter for the sake of having a heart-to-heart. While Stacy and Parker are each busy trying to convince the other of his or her genetic authenticity, the Jackal is attempting to convince Reilly that he is the genuine Peter Parker and that Spider-Man is actually the clone. “It can all be yours again, Peter,” the Jackal tells him. “Gwen, the Bugle, the whole ball of wax.” All the Scarlet Spider has to do is kill Spider-Man and he can reclaim what is rightfully his. When Reilly quietly rejects this offer—if not the alternative clone story at its core—the Jackal grows impatient and turns his attention to Spider-Man, assuring him that he’s the genuine article and that his story to Ben was merely a fun fib—nothing more than “smoke and mirrors”. Spider-Man, however, insists that he’s read Warren’s journal and consulted with the High Evolutionary [no issues are noted as sources for these claims, curiously], and he’s convinced that the professor hasn’t actually cloned anyone. His assertions are called into question moments later, though, when the Gwen Stacy figure (whom the Jackal has been cajoling him to approach romantically) begins degenerating á la the Guardian before their very eyes. As ‘Gwen’ disintegrates into a pile of steaming mush, the Spider-heroes once again turn on the Jackal for answers. The wisecracking Warren informs them that they’re both clones, and that the real Peter Parker is located somewhere within. He then programs the bizarre structure to self-destruct and slips out its transparent doorway, leaving Parker, Reilly and ‘Jack’ to their doom. A sympathetic Jack lectures the Spider-heroes on working together to penetrate the doorway and overcome the degenerative side-effects of the cloning process before being dragged through the exit/entrance from the outside by the Jackal. Parker and Reilly escape (inexplicably) seconds before the structure goes kaboom! (Actually, it goes FraKOOM.) The storyline ends with a scene of an intact cryogenic chamber amidst the rubble left in the wake of the explosion. “What’s within the pod – and within the Jackal’s mind,” claims the caption, “will jump the Spiderverse into even higher gear.” It’s obvious that the Marvel powers-that-be wanted to momentarily lead their readers down a road that involved a Holy Trinity of Spider-Men: the Webslinger, the Clone, and the ‘hibernating’ Peter Parker.

While all of this is transpiring, in the background the Spider-heroes continue to be hounded by the mysterious Kaine, who, in turn, is now hounded himself by the even more mysterious Scrier, the Grim Reaper-type character who played a minor role in the initial ‘Power and Responsibility’ story arc. Meanwhile, Aunt May Parker continues to linger on life support as Mary Jane looks on.

For better or worse, the dominant feature of this story arc is not the return of ‘Gwen Stacy’ (naked or otherwise) or any revelations regarding Professor Warren’s clones, but rather the pervading acerbic humour emanating from the Jackal, particularly in the second installment (Amazing Spider-Man No. 399). Out of nowhere, writer J. M. DeMatteis seems to have found his funny side. Puns and outlandish witticisms abound, complete with references to CNN and the Playboy channel. Howard Mackie follows suit in his scripting on the third installment, but doesn’t quite match DeMatteis in the zaniness department. Spider-Man comics always had healthy doses of dark humour, but not quite like this. Even the Jackal of ‘the Original Clone Saga’ (as the subplot in Amazing Spider-Man Nos. 139–150 is retroactively known) was not the wacky and somewhat sexually perverse narcissist that the ’90s Marvel bullpen envisioned. Does such humour distract from the serious nature of the overall story? Definitely, yes. Whether or not that’s a bad thing, however, is not entirely certain.

In regards to the visual side, each title was assigned its usual artist-inker duo for ‘Smoke and Mirrors’, and so we can judge just how well each bears up against such overwhelming humour in a tale of such sensational plot developments. Rather surprisingly, Butler and Emberlin’s work on Web #122 stands as the storyline’s best testament to talent, with Butler breaking down the Scarlet Spider’s movements in a manner reminiscent of Romita or Kane in their respective runs on the early Amazing. The only notable flaw on the part of the visual team in this issue might be their depiction of Mary Jane (who, in all fairness, seems to have been a bit of a challenge for most artists during this post-McFarlane period). In any case, the warm hues of Kevin Tinsley blend well with the images of Mrs. Peter Parker and the Scarlet Spider’s costume, lending a colourful unity to the panels rarely seen in mainstream comics of the era.

By the end of the Web installment, the action has shifted to the snow-covered hills of northern New York, and it’s the appropriately cool blues, greys and greens of colourist Bob Sharen that save the subsequent Amazing Spider-Man No. 399 from visual mundanity. As for the underlying art, let’s just say it’s a typical example of Mark Bagley being Mark Bagley. If one is an ardent admirer of his work, then one shall relish this issue. Otherwise, DeMatteis’s zany scripting shall be the focus of the reading experience. By and large, the same holds true for Tom Lyle’s art on the Spider-Man installment in this trilogy. Unless one is a rare fervid fan, it’s a typical day for Lyle. It must be pointed out, mind you, that Lyle’s art is augmented by the presence of Kevin Tinsley’s warm colouring this time around, although the finished panels are not as rewarding as the results of Tinsley’s collaboration with Butler on Part 1 of the story arc.

Humour, no matter how appealing and well-written, cannot save or justify a sensationally contrived storyline—only whitewash it (with a bit of luck). At the end of the day, ‘Smoke and Mirrors’ is a not-so-subtle reminder of just how weak the original 1974–75 ‘Clone Saga’ was amidst its outre sensationalism and resultant unbelievability. (More about this later.)

To be continued in Comics Decoder #10 and probably #11—or maybe another webzine altogether! Stay tuned and keep the faith, O true believers!!!

(Who says this isn't the Decoder Age of Comics?!!)

All comics images taken from Amazing Spider-Man, Spectacular Spider-Man, Web of Spider-Man and Spider-Man. Copyright 1994 Marvel Entertainment Group