The Immortal Hulk #22 - Marvel Comics

IMMORTAL HULK No. 22, October 2019

Crammed to the rafters with more characters and conversation than its 62,053 readers could probably believe possible within a Hulk comic book, it is easy to see why at the time Al Ewing stated he was “very busy” when interviewed by the American website “Newsarama”. Yet whilst the British writer seemed to think that that was “a good problem to have”, so heavy a workload seems to have caused his script to “Who’s There” to become little more than a debatably dreary twenty-page periodical, with nothing in the way of action occurring except Rick Jones’ dramatic transformation back to the land of the living…

For starters, the majority of this publication seems to focus far too much upon the dialogue driven antics of Bruce Banner, whether it be the mild-mannered nuclear physicist mentally breaking down when Betty Ross refuses to transform back into her human guise for him, or in his much more confident Joe Fixit persona. These wordy-heavy, plodding scenes provide very little progress to the plot, and arguably just act as an unnecessary reminder to the perusing Hulk-Heads that Thunderbolt’s daughter clearly still has issues with her ex-husband, and “Sunshine Joe” seems to have developed an appreciation of Jacqueline McGee’s work as a reporter; “And holy c%*p, lady. You sure know how to p&*s off the puny humans.”

Similarly as sedentary are the passages set deep beneath Groom Lake at Shadow Base Site D, where Doctor McGowan perhaps finally realises just how utterly insane General Fortean actually is, having witnessed the soldier 'willingly' bond with the Abomination. Bleeding green ooze from the nose and ignorant as to “what the gamma is doing to your internal organs, or -- or your mind --”, Reginald’s self-deluding belief that he is “in control here” seems a million miles away from the actual truth.

Admittedly, the grotesque-looking, green-skinned gestalt looks incredibly intimidating, and penciler Joe Bennett does a first-rate job of permeating the brutish monstrosity with some marvellous menace. But it’s hard to maintain such a perturbing presence panel after seemingly endless panel when all Subject B actually does is literally stand with his arms folded across his scaly chest and wax lyrical to Doc Samson and Omega Flight about how far his “new wave of psychic surveillance technicians can reach…”

Writer: Al Ewing, Penciler: Joe Bennett, and Colorist: Paul Mounts