Talking about favourite superheroes is a complicated thing. After all, they get passed between different creators and editors over the course of decades, so you never quite know what you're going to get. Sometimes it'll be a character like Superman, who's appeared constantly in at least two comics per month for 80+ years; most of those books I've not read, and most of the ones I have weren't great, but there is a certain irreducible Supermanness that's always faintly and frustratingly glimpsed and which, when properly handled, takes the whole genre to its absolute peak. Conversely, you get a character like Moon Knight, who only pops up now and then, but who appeals to a particular sensibility, such that whenever he does have a series, I usually love it (though let's not talk about the Bendis run).
The point being, I'd always thought of Beta Ray Bill as in the second category. I don't recall ever reading a comic where he starred which wasn't at least quite good, and then along came Daniel Warren Johnson. My last encounter with Johnson's work was his creator-owned Murder Falcon, in which the eponymous bird dude saves the world from monsters, powered by his human companion's guitar skills – and yet against all odds, most of the comic was still a miserable slog. Still, it had its moments, and this was a Beta Ray Bill comic – how wrong could it go?
Well, put it this way. Bill, who lest we forget is meant to have all the power of Thor, spends much of the first issue getting beaten down and having to have Thor (who in fairness does now have the power of Odin) rescue him. Despite which, his longstanding flirtation with Sif (which TBH I always assumed had been consummated decades back) finally takes them to the bedroom on page...where she backs out upon realising Bill can no longer revert to his Korbinite* form since Thor destroyed his hammer**. The point where I muttered "Oh for fuck's sake" loud enough for my other half to hear through their headphones and ask 'That good, huh?' was when Bill, with a little plaster on his bonce, mopes out, saying "I'm going to make myself beautiful again." Now granted, as said spouse then pointed out, Bill does look a bit like a naked mole rat in that panel. But this is a Daniel Warren Johnson comic, and his art makes everyone look ugly. I mean, yes, the dude is normally described as looking like an orange cyborg space horse dressed as Thor, but come on – that's a look and a half. So he can no longer change back into his other form! His other form was no Adonis, just an orange alien with not terribly defined features. Surely if Sif is into him, she's going to be at least as into the ass-kicking form as the nondescript one? And this weird normativity runs through the whole story, so apparently Pip the Troll also considers himself "the definition of repulsive" despite that being at odds with every previous Pip appearance I can remember reading. And not even a culture-wide normativity, but a particular sort of American rock bro one, such that when Bill, Pip and Skurge (who, in one of the few bits here which made me smile, has bunked off Valhalla because there are no guns there, and is now insistent on being Bill's wingman) find Odin in a remote space bar, brewing his own beer – they all drink pissy little bottles! Not foaming flagons as Norse gods (and Norse god-aligned aliens) clearly should! Gah. Anyway, from there it's on to the Stygian Gate, guarded by what are apparently Asgard's most hardened warriors, even though they appear to have been absent from every one of the dozens of wars we've seen Asgard get into in sixty years of comics. They warn that the journey beyond that point will be dangerous, though frankly it just sounds like everyday life in the 2020s: "The souls that enter are changed. A blackened hollow burns in their eyes. What they once were is forever gone." This is followed by a scene where our heroes are flying a sentient spaceship into Muspelheim – and I still felt not the slightest urge to punch the air. This is the problem with the Johnson/Bill match-up: Beta Ray Bill has, since Walt Simonson created him, been a pretty metal character, but back in the eighties it was the sort of shiny metal that crossed over into the charts, AKA the first metal I ever heard, and hence the best. This is the sludgy, constipated, tar-like unpleasantness currently perpetrated within at least one of the baffling array of subgenres I long since lost any urge to keep track of. Hell, there's even a cutaway that did nothing for me, and right back to Brambly Hedge and educational books for boys I have bloody loved a cutaway, but done by Johnson they just feel like Brandon Graham if you somehow surgically removed every trace of fun. There are a few scenes, mostly involving Surtur, where the comic achieves an appropriate sense of grandeur, but overall I think the conclusion has to be that Daniel Warren Johnson comics simply are not for me, not even if the next one is a Moon Knight/Superman crossover.
*The name long predates recent Labour ructions, and should in no way be taken to imply that Bill's people are particularly prone to 'legitimate criticism of the state of Israel' hem hem.
**To be fair, I should note that destruction cannot be blamed on Johnson, having taken place in Donny Cates' Thor run. However, I should also note that Donny Cates' Thor run is even worse than this farrago.