Television: Luke Cage, and why it’s a show of two halves

Luke Cage was the first Marvel Netflix show I was unsure about watching. I loved Jessica Jones and Daredevil but almost immediately after Luke Cage came out I started hearing negative things. It didn’t have the complexity. It didn’t hold people’s interest. As a result, I didn’t watch it until Defenders was soon to be on air as I didn’t want to miss the developments leading up to it.
I wasn’t expecting much from Luke Cage when I started to watch it, just a way to pass the time, but as I started to watch it I was very, VERY pleasantly surprised. Luke Cage (Mike Coulter) doesn’t exist in the same type of dark world that Jessica Jones and Matt Murdock do, his world is more grounded, its troubles more real. It helps that it’s the first series to be set outside of Hell’s Kitchen, instead focusing on the historically black neighbourhood of Harlem. The show, its themes and setting are all intrinsically linked. The show’s about the everyday troubles and an everyday hero, who just happens to have supernatural abilities.
Before I continue talking about Luke Cage though, I feel it’s important to point out that I am neither black nor American. I come to this show entirely from an outsider’s’ perspective, so there is a limited amount of insight I have into how well it really shows Harlem or the many struggles that the neighbourhood has had. I assume that the show depicts them well, as it is well written and doesn’t shy away from issues such as police brutality and racism, but I have no way of knowing as that hasn’t been my experience of life.

I do feel qualified, however, to talk about the characters and the structure of the show. Mostly the fact that once again, we have excellent villains, two this time, in the form of cousins Mariah Dillard (Alfre Woodard) and Cornell “Cottonmouth” Stokes (Mahershala Ali). Both antagonists have grown up in Harlem at the table of crime boss Mama Mabel, who pushed Mariah into political aspirations and Cornell into criminal ones. Both cousins suffered growing up, but both have used their painful upbringing to become stronger or at least to appear to.
Cottonmouth, in particular, is an absolutely fascinating character as he encounters more and more complex issues. The series starts with a major weapons deal he arranged going wrong. Later as Luke gets involved, Cottonmouth’s business spirals further and further out of control and he begins to deal with things based on feelings rather than business sense. He shows true remorse and anger when one of his men shoots up Pop’s Barber Shop, killing the one man who created a safe space for the youth of Harlem, and even offers to pay for his funeral. He also never loses his wish to become a musician and is often seen playing his piano. He’s complex. He’s well-acted. And unfortunately, he’s only the villain of the first half of the series.
I would love it if Mariah then took his place, but she is relegated to “side villain” for the most part, with the new focus being on Diamondback (Erik LaRay Harvey), the mysterious supplier of Cottonmouth’s weapons. Every complexity Cottonmouth has, Diamondback doesn’t. He’s cartoonish with his level of crazy if he had moustache he’d twirl it before fighting with Luke. His ability to actually harm Luke gives us a nice insight into our hero’s background, and Luke’s origin story is indeed interesting, but it’s not enough to hold the story at the same standard the show has been until this point. Neither is the wonderful development of Claire Temple (Rosario Dawson), who has been present in all the Marvel Netflix shows, but not really come into her own until this one.
It’s such a pity that Diamondback isn’t more interesting because like every Marvel Netflix show, so much focus is poured onto the villain. The antagonist balances out the hero, makes the audience question them or brings our attention to their circumstances and behaviour, but Diamondback does not of these things. He’s a villain who wants to destroy Luke Cage because he does (or actually because he’s Luke’s half brother and daddy issues, but whatever, it’s kinda glossed over). It makes the part of the show where he’s the focus weak, less interesting and ultimately is probably what caused many people’s disappointment in the show.

For me at least though, the brilliant first half of the series and few good parts of the second are enough for Luke Cage to at least maintain the standards of the other Netflix shows. I wish the show was more consistent, but I’m still really happy with it. Also, it gives Claire a chance to shine, and I’m pretty much convinced that that can never be a bad thing. I’m looking forward to seeing more of Luke but hopefully with a more interesting adversary.

Television: Daredevil, and why Wilson Fisk is one of the best villains of all time

Daredevil is one of those shows it took me a while to get into, but once I was hooked I was totally addicted. Made as part of the Netflix Marvel series, which link subtly but directly into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Daredevil initially caught audiences with its visceral fight scenes, high production quality and troubled hero.  Here was a superhero show that actually took the genre seriously, and to a certain extent, had more in common with Christopher Nolan’s Dark Night Trilogy than Joss Whedon’s brightly coloured Avengers movie. It showed a darker, deeper side to the MCU that had been sorely lacking, and provided it in a way only television could.

I love movies, but television and Netflix have always been my preferred medium to watch. There’s a wonderful quote that says something along the lines of, “You get to see the lives of movie characters through a window, television characters you invite into your home.” You get to see the ups and downs of characters on television, not just their heroic moments but their personal ones. You share every crisis of faith, every water cooler conversation and every in-joke, and Daredevil does this better than almost any other show. Why? Daredevil doesn’t just show you the ups and downs of its hero, it also shows you, in great detail, the life of its villain, Wilson Fisk.

At the beginning of the show, the villainous power of Fisk is demonstrated through his manipulations and right-hand man, James Wesley, but as more of the person is revealed through his interactions with Wesley and his love interest, Vanessa, a more complex picture is shown. The closer Matt Murdock gets to crossing the boundary from hero to villain, the more Fisk seems twistedly heroic. Here is someone who is genuinely convinced what he’s doing is not only right but is the only way to save his city. He doesn’t care what he has to do, or how many laws he has to break, as long as the city is ultimately made a safer, better place.

The absolute brilliance of the first season of Daredevil is showing how close villain and hero are to each other in terms of beliefs. This could have very easily been told from Fisk’s point of view showing Daredevil as the vigilante villain. The near-perfect execution of this symmetry is what makes Daredevil such compulsive viewing. I found myself caring more about the villain that I did the hero in many of the episodes, and that is a truly incredible feat.

But like any good show, the second series cannot repeat the same story as the first. Instead, Daredevil chooses to build on its already developing theme of the line between hero and villain, this time by introducing two more vigilantes to the show; the gun-toting Frank Castle and the mysterious Elektra Natchios. Both of these new faces have a very different approach to Matt Murdoch’s “no kill” policy, in fact, Castle spends the first four episodes gunning down every gang member and criminal he comes across. As Daredevil is confronted and challenged by these other vigilantes, he begins to ask himself the same two question the audience has been asking since series one: “Is Daredevil really a hero?” and “How far is too far to go in the protection of the greater good?”

While Elektra and Castle are both incredibly compelling characters, and the show is better for their existence, but it’s interesting that the questions they pose to Daredevil are ones Wilson Fisk spends the time before and during the first series asking both himself and his nemesis. He doesn’t need to fight on the rooftops, or infiltrate parties to bring justice, he simply orders people to do it for him, but he is still bringing a form of vigilante justice to Hell’s Kitchen.

It’s wonderful to have a show available that asks the questions that most superhero media (outside of comics) doesn’t ask. What actually makes a hero? What is the difference between them and the villain? Daredevil and Fisk’s relationship doesn’t provide the answer, really, but the question is out there for the audience to decide.