Predator vs. Spider-Man #4: No Chopper, No Fun

The expectations for a Spider-Man vs. Predator story are as equally low as they are high. While the conceptual epitaphs of Ben Percy’s previous MvP stories were convincingly cool, this book was the big-ticket crossover so many were waiting for—one that seemingly wrote itself. So many ideas simply made sense when it came to the potential conflict between Peter Parker and hunters from another planet, and all those ideas presented themselves in full when issue one of this series dropped. In that opening issue, much of what readers would expect from this story was present, but the sauce of daring artistic choice was lacking. Sadly, that sense of corporate correction that hung over the title’s first chapter like a bad omen persisted throughout, resulting in a laughably sterile miniseries that is both a disservice to its potential and to the creative team as well.

Even here in the finale, no bold choices are made, and no clear direction of artistic intent is followed. With little room to breathe, so much is packed into the pages of this final issue that nothing really sticks. Kraven’s moment of entry sings with a broken voice, as his action scenes are crippled by poor layouts and a lack of tension. Peter’s own involvement never goes beyond Spider-Man slinging webs and making quips. He is awarded a big, stupid “save the city” moment, but it is ruined, once again, by the aforementioned vacancy of weight in this book. The cliff notes of what should happen in a finale for a crossover like this do occur—but seemingly only because that’s what the team felt had to happen. Even down to MJ and the cast of newly created characters, no one shines or has a moment of true fruition because of how little this series wanted to try and be anything other than paper to slap a sellable title on.

The art team is also sorely misused in this book, though their efforts aren’t without merit. Outside of a few key splash pages that land with some visual impact, the overall layout design lacks the dynamism and narrative clarity that a crossover of this scale demands. There’s a noticeable inconsistency in character rendering—sometimes veering toward hyper-realism, other times slipping into exaggerated cartoonishness—which undercuts the emotional tone and confuses the visual language of the story. That said, these inconsistencies may not stem from lack of talent, but rather from unclear direction or editorial mandates that constrained the artists’ ability to find a cohesive voice.

There are fleeting moments where the pencils and inks align effectively, especially in quieter beats or close-ups that call for intimacy over spectacle. The color work, in particular, deserves some praise: while it doesn’t elevate the story entirely, it often provides atmosphere where the line work falls short, adding emotional cues and texture that lend certain panels a much-needed sense of mood or urgency. Ultimately, while the art team clearly has the tools and experience to deliver a more engaging visual experience, their work here feels restrained—pulled in multiple directions by a story that never quite decides what it wants to be, visually or otherwise.