“The demon is a liar. He will lie to confuse us; but he will also mix lies with the truth to attack us. His attack is psychological… And powerful.” ― William Peter Blatty, The Exorcist
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The superhero genre burnout continues, and while the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) strains at the patience of some―now stretched across film, network television and on-demand Netflix series―it continues to push the boundaries of what a superhero story can do and a world that exists in cinematic form. Beaten to the on-screen punch by Wonder Woman, Agent Carter and Supergirl, Jessica Jones (Krysten Ritter) sets itself apart by being the first modern, fully-realized female superhero to grace the screen. And she doesn’t shy away from poking at the very heart of gender relation tensions.
The first six or seven episodes go out of their way to flip the script of the male hero, almost to the point of tedium. Make no mistake, the mere commitment to reversing gender roles makes a statement in-and-of itself. There is the noir-ish private eye with a soft heart under layers of pain and sarcastic wisecracks, the love interest as a strong―but primarily attractive―foil, the world-wise and hard as nails employer, the damaged opposite-gender sidekick; every role here could be reversed and you would wind up with a standard thriller. On top of that, it seems to want to say something about male-on-female domestic abuse. The cognitive dissonance between those two ends pulls at you as you watch.
But just when you’re ready to write the series off as a one-note genre twist, it gets interesting. Episode six culminates in two melodramatic moments―one that feels forced and shoe-horned into the story between Jones and fellow superhero Luke Cage (Mike Colter, who is up next for his own Netflix series) and one that feels like an artistic miscue as it is revealed why the villain Killgrave, aka The Purple Man (David Tennant), buys a certain house for cash instead of using his superpower of mind control. These moments serve as a reset point, and mark the point where the real story and character development begins. The glass ceiling is broken.
Killgrave is haunted by an abusive relationship with his parents; Jones is ready to deal with the abusive relationship she endured with Killgrave and her adopted mother; Jones’ best friend and adopted sister is dealing with her own abusive relationship with her mom and new boyfriend; and Jones’ employer has emotionally abused her partner and is possibly being abused by her new flame. All of these abusive relationships swirl around each other, creating a whirlwind of events that surpasses the melodramatic breaking point and is somehow more grounded than all the setup that preceded it, pushing aside gender roles and speaking to human brokenness and how we fight to heal.
Krysten Ritter sparkles here as Jessica Jones, an uncut diamond in the rough. She’s damaged, broken, and has more potential for good than she knows what to do with. And that’s a real issue. When you have a gift and the world around you is scared of you because of it, and everything is so awful, trying to use it seems to only create more heartache. Jessica Jones doesn’t have the pampered life of Tony Stark or the moral will of Steve Rogers. But she does have a moral compass she can’t ignore, along with a sharp tongue.
It was a casting coup to bring in David Tennant, with all of his considerable charm and passion, as Killgrave, a role that is almost a reverse image of his popular Dr. Who. Killgrave is a man who will do anything―move heaven and earth, including lying to himself so well he believes his own lies―to satisfy his cravings. Tennant is so charismatic and charming, you could fall under his influence even if he lacked the power of mind control.
The MCU has had its share of criticisms leveled against it for its villains. But it hasn’t shied away from using top-tier talent like Jeff Bridges (Iron Man), Tim Roth (The Hulk), and Tom Hiddleston (Thor, The Avengers). More importantly, it has consistently made the heroes and the choices they make more interesting and their victories harder won. Both Vincent D’Onofrio as The Kingpin in the other Netflix MCU series Daredevil and Tennant as Purple Man/Killgrave here have been fleshed out, given backstories that are sympathetic, but remain villains because of the choices they make. I retain a deep and abiding appreciation for the MCU in their portrayal of their heroes who can be dodgers and rogues, but make hard moral decisions.
Elsewhere, Eka Darville shines as an addict who Jones doesn’t know if he can help or even if she wants to and Carrie-Anne Moss delivers a solid performance as Jones’ sometime employer with a troubled home life. Indeed, Moss brings a calculated, refined, and intelligent presence to the proceedings that one might not expect just from seeing her in the Matrix trilogy.
And finally, there is Rosario Dawson as Claire Temple. Much like Clark Gregg kept popping up in the first wave of Marvel films as Agent Phil Coulson, Dawson seems to be the thread tying the MCU Netflix shows together as a kind of guardian angel (loosely based on the Marvel comic character Night Nurse who tends to wounded superheroes in her off hours). She makes a brief appearance here that comes as a breath of fresh air to both the characters she interacts with and with the audience―especially those familiar with her through Daredevil. In many ways, even though her appearance is brief, she embodies the soul of this series―someone caught in a terrible world, wanting to make a difference, and learning how to with what abilities she has.
At one point, Jones goes into a confrontation she might not come back from and picks a safe word―a phrase she wouldn’t normally use, a phrase she never says―to let her friend know she needs help. It’s a thing we need to learn to say: I love you.
