written by David Hine
illustrated by Fabrice Sapolsky and Carmine di Giandomenico

Eyes Without a Face is a great 1930s-era Batman story. The unusual part about this is that it’s a Spider-Man story.

Some of the best comic stories ever written have a deep appreciation for actual world history, and postulate a reality in which superpowered heroes and villains existed, and in some way influenced or interacted with major world events—whether we knew it or not. The Spider-Man Noir series does a great job of handling its own mythos while casually brushing up against history in a very compelling manner.

This isn’t, however, the fast-talking, high-spirited Spider-Man that we know and love. While he retains his powers—shooting webs, exceptional acrobatics, precognitive spider-senses—he retains none of the personality that makes Spider-Man who he is. It’s a very solid reminder of what makes Marvel great, if only because of its absence here. Marvel excels at pathos, and heroes with distinct personalities, so to strip their flagship character of this, even in an alternate-universe tale, only makes the Noir series darker. While I would have loved to see a Spider-Man who spouted out Gangland movie quips as he catapulted himself off of mobsters, we get a very Batman-like Spider-Man. Fortunately, I like Batman.

When alternate-reality stories like this are written, they’ll inevitably shoehorn in names and characters that loyal readers will be able to recognize from the “actual” comic universe. It’s a useful tool that creates immediate narrative recognition without resorting to clichéd archetypes, even if it feels a bit awkward. You know that Doctor Otto Octavius will be a bad guy, no matter what he looks like or what universe he’s in, because he’s Doc Ock, and that Black Cat will be morally ambiguous and sexy, and probably have a thing going on with Spider-Man. When one can accept this as a unique literary device instead of an effort to capitalize on known properties, the whole story reads a lot more smoothly. Spider-Man Noir handles this as gracefully as possible.

The art is exceptional, like a cross between Peter Chung’s ultra-animated Aeon Flux and, well, really good comic book art. It’s a very modern style, but it doesn’t detract from the 1930s theme of the story itself. Maybe this is because the muted, sepia coloring throughout adds a layer of obfuscation and distance. Whatever it is, it’s effective, and works in perfect harmony with the story.

There’s plenty of blood and scenes of near-sexiness, as well as themes concerning racism, torture, and organized crime. It’s all pretty distant from our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but it’s a worthwhile series to put into a collection if you or your readers are interested in fantastical histories involving animal-themed vigilantes.

-- Collin David

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