THE AMAZING VENOM #1 REVIEW: FRED MYERS JUST WANTED A NORMAL LIFE. THE SYMBIOTES SAID NAH.

WEPAAAAA! This one surprised me, fam. The Amazing Venom #1 comes in looking like another symbiote book ready to drown us in teeth, tendrils and cosmic goo, then Jordan Morris slides Fred Myers into the middle of it and goes, “Nah, we’re gonna make this dude worry about lawn care, fertility appointments and whether his alien roommate is ruining his life.” That is exactly why this works. Fred, formerly Boomerang and now running around as Comeback with the symbiote Passenger, has spent enough time getting punched in the face by superheroes to know what kind of life he does not want anymore. He wants small. Quiet. Normal-ish. Staten Island normal, anyway. Marvel immediately wrecks that plan.

Morris gets why Fred is funny because Fred ain’t out here trying to be the funniest dude in the room. My guy is tired, fam. Tired tired. Passenger, meanwhile, has that one homie energy where they swear, “Yo, I got you,” and somehow five minutes later everything is 40 percent more complicated and your whole day is cooked. Their back-and-forth gives the book personality without turning it into a damn comedy routine, and that matters because Fred is dealing with real grown-man shit here. His marriage. The possibility of starting a family. The uncomfortable thought that bonding with an alien organism may have permanently complicated parts of his future he never expected to question. That’s where the book gets more human than I expected. Morris lets those moments sit for a minute instead of immediately throwing another monster through the wall, which makes the insanity hit harder when it comes back around. Then Luke Ross gets the green light to go absolutely buck wild.

Ross knows exactly when to chill and when to let the whole damn page lose its mind. Fred’s home life actually feels like a home. The kitchen ain’t some empty superhero backdrop, the neighborhood has people in it, and when characters are talking, they look like people having an actual conversation instead of everybody standing around hitting poses while speech balloons do all the work. Then the symbiotes start moving and the book goes, “Aight, enough of that normal shit.” Bodies stretch, jaws unhinge, tendrils start whipping across panels and suddenly everything gets nasty. The best part is Ross never lets the chaos become visual arroz con mierda. You got black shapes, blue shapes, red shapes and alien goo smashing into each other, but I always know who’s hitting who, where the attack came from and where my eye is supposed to go next. Trust me, that ain’t automatic with symbiote fights. I’ve seen those things turn into a bowl of evil spaghetti real damn quick. Ross keeps the action clean without sanding off any of the madness.

David Curiel is right there helping him sell it because the colors know when to pop and when to back the hell up. Passenger’s red and blue jumps off those quieter domestic scenes, so when darker symbiotes come invading Fred’s supposedly safe little corner of the world, you feel that intrusion immediately. Once the fighting kicks in, Curiel starts throwing hotter reds, nasty greens and those electric effects around, but he never turns the page into a damn Times Square billboard where everything is screaming at you at once. VC’s Clayton Cowles has his hands full too because Fred is talking, Passenger is talking, other symbiotes are running their mouths and somebody is usually smashing through furniture somewhere nearby, yet I never gotta stop and ask, “Yo, who the hell said that?” That’s good lettering, fam. You shouldn’t notice it because you’re confused. You should notice it because everything just flows. Carlos Lao and Kat Walkington finish the package with that red-and-black symbiote design language running through the book, giving the whole thing this mean little identity from jump without making it feel like another Venom book got dressed in the same old clothes.

What sold me is Fred himself. He’s not pretending to be Peter Parker. He’s not Eddie Brock. He’s not trying to inherit some grand Venom mythology crown. He’s Fred freaking Myers, a former C-list villain trying to hold onto a decent life while cosmic nonsense keeps knocking on his door. That gives The Amazing Venom its own lane. Jordan Morris brings genuine heart and some sneaky mature themes underneath the jokes, Luke Ross delivers crisp superhero storytelling, David Curiel makes the symbiote chaos visually sing, and Clayton Cowles keeps the whole noisy thing moving without losing the reader. Marvel has made a lot of symbiote comics. This one already feels like it has a reason to exist.

Crusaders Score:
4/5

Writer: Jordan Morris
Artist: Luke Ross
Colorist: David Curiel
Letterer: VC’s Clayton Cowles
Cover Artist: Stefano Caselli
Designer: Carlos Lao with Kat Walkington
Assistant Editor: Emerald Bensadoun
Editor: Jordan D. White
Editor in Chief: C.B. Cebulski
Publisher: Marvel Comics