Daredevil on Netflix: the Network Without Fear

Daredevil Cast

Matt Murdoch/ Daredevil: Charlie Cox

Wilson Fisk: Vincent D’Onofrio

Foggy Nelson: Elden Henson

Karen Page: Deborah Ann Woll

Claire Temple: Rosario Dawson

Ben Urich: Vondie Curtis-Hall

Vanessa (Fisk): Ayelet Zurer

It seems ridiculous now, but before Netflix debuted Marvel’s Daredevil, nobody could overlook the bad taste Ben Affleck’s turn as the crimson-colored crusader had left in our collective mouth. Many fans of the comic, myself included, wondered if Marvel had it in them to up the ante and bring the darkness of the comics to the small screen. Even when the previews started pouring in, that silly black mask wasn’t convincing that the show would overcome Marvel’s ability to create a bad TV show.

Friday, April 10^th came, and I settled into my chair to binge-watch the thirteen episode season of a show I wasn’t sold on. Ten minutes after hitting play, it became clear that Daredevil was no longer going to be a whispered joke among hardcore comic fans. From dark (read: black) fight scenes to decidedly un-angelic characters, this wasn’t a Disney princess parade. This was Hell’s Kitchen, where nobody comes out clean and life is never shining.

Let me back up just a little bit here. I read Daredevil in the 90’s (yes, that magical place that old people come from), when Joe Quesada introduced a comic that had more shadow in it than color. I wondered then exactly how much ink he used to fill those pages in each issue. On top of that, the covers were beautiful, more art than comic, and really sold the devil-vs-angel aspect of our titular character. What I wanted out of this show was what I loved in those comics: dark, gritty stories backed up by dark, gritty visuals.

Marvel gave me exactly what I was looking for. Entranced far after my fiancé had decided the screen was too dark for her to enjoy; I spent thirteen hours glued to my chair, soaking in the refreshing grittiness, watching the glass hearts of hero and villain shatter and glue back together again.

And why was it just so good? Because the show takes it’s time, running the plot threads in circles before closing up each wound. Every stitch is visible, but you have to be willing to watch the needle push through the skin and into the meat before you can breathe a sigh of relief. Despite the TV-MA rating, Daredevil doesn’t push blood and gore into every scene, which is why each time some shows up, it punches you in the gut. It matters. There is always a solid, story-driven reason they push into violent territory.

As with any good show, what ties it all together is the talent of the

cast. From Charlie Cox’s cocky, but shattering, Man-Without-Fear and Vincent D’Onofrio’s terrifying, sometimes child-like Wilson Fisk, these two opponents are definitely meant to face each other multiple times. Deborah Ann Woll surprised me as she went from being victim to determined scooper, without forgetting she was a victim. Foggy Nelson starts off outlandish and unnecessary, but ends the series as important and meaningful as Murdoch himself. And, my all-time favorite supporting character, Ben Urich, is done full justice by the amazing Vondie Curtis-Hall.

Everyone has already talked about the amazing fight scenes, and all I have to add really is that I think it’s amazing that, for the first half of the series, Matt Murdoch’s fighting style mimics boxing more than martial arts, and after a “meeting” with his mentor, Sticks, he seems to change into a more fluid fighter. That he takes bone-crunching beatings just like his dad did in the ring…well…the saying like-father-like-son has possibly never been clearer.

In short, if you're on the fence about this new version of Daredevil, swing off and join the rest of us, right here in the shadows of Hell’s Kitchen. Or at least, on Netflix.

James Neal works on his own webcomic, Mandy and Murder-Bear. Also, his fantasy novel, Of Blood and Blade is available now on Amazon.

The Shield, The Bat, and The Spider: Why Superhero Symbols Matter

A ways back, my friend and mentor, Avery K. Tingle, wrote a superb blog post on the power carried by the Symbol on Superman’s chest: the “S” held within a shield. Superb, because it brought to my mind a question I’ve had to think about for some time. After a month in San Antonio (and no internetz to speak of), I’ve found that it’s not always our favorite comic hero’s chest that carries the symbol which we recognize, and gather under. Now I wonder, why? Why do we band together under these, and let’s be honest here, fictional, symbols of power?

The Power of Symbols

Few people can ideologically discard symbols out of hand. From Christian and Catholic religions’ Cross of Christ to the Wiccan Pentacle to Egyptian hieroglyphics, all of these hold a huge amount of meaning…to those who care about the subject matter to begin with. These symbols are studied, learned, and memorized; and each has a long story and/or history behind it.

What about comic book heroes? Do we learn, study, and memorize them? Ask any fan of the medium. Yes. Comic publishers rarely change a hero’s symbol for fear of infuriating, and ultimately ostracizing, their fan base. Imagine if Kevin Smith’s vision of a new Catholic image had come to light in his movie “Dogma.” How many people would revolt if the Cross of Christ was gotten rid of and “Buddy Christ” represented the pain, sacrifice, and history of the Catholic belief? For fanboys and girls, changing a hero’s insignia is the exact same thing, and very nearly as sacred. What’s your favorite superhero symbol?

Branding: The Money Side 

Comic book publishers and their properties have one less complicated reason for leaving a hero’s symbol alone, or changing it only slightly: money. When you see Superman’s “S,” you know that character comes from one of the Big Two of comics, DC or Marvel. If you’re a fan, you know Superman is in the DC House, that Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster created the Man of Steel, and several other factoids that non-fans might not care about.

A decade or so ago, it was a bad idea to wear your Superman (or Batman, or Spider-Man, or, or) shirt in public. Doing so told the world you were a geek; and that you believed in stupid things like superpowers. Despite the inevitable ass-whooping you were likely to receive, you wore that shirt anyway, with pride. With the surge of popularity of comic book properties (if not the books themselves), geeks span a whole new level of cool, and that same “S” you wore as a kid is now a symbol of awesomesauce.

What this means for publishers is merchandising. From toys to shirts to, yes, underwear…you can find your favorite hero in just about any department of your favorite store. Not only that, but these toys and underwear are no longer just for kids. What brought this change of pace about? Marketing, mainly, but also the fact that so many of these heroes have an easily identifiable brand all their own, nevermind the publisher’s logo.

According to an article at iFanboy, Marvel sits at number 6 on License! Global’s list of merchandising giants. Warner Bros (which contains DC Comics) is at number 5 on that same list. At number one is the god of merchandising, Disney (which currently owns Marvel, and it is unclear why Marvel was split from Disney for the purposes of determining merchandise revenue) towers over the competition. These are the folks which comic book companies are competing with. Whoa.

Branding: The Cultural Side

So why are comics so profitable? Why do we adore these symbols, when years ago we scorned them and anybody who related to them? I think it’s really quite simple. Regardless of how we recognize these heroes, whether it be in book format, movies, or other media…the world continues to need heroes. Heroes who we do not necessarily idolize, but to whom we can idealize. Heroes perform deeds and actions that vanquish evil, or overcome great obstacles. They live by ideals which we all hope to live by. These symbols may be fictional; but they represent the best that mankind aspires to. We need that in a world that flies by us so fast we barely see the sunlight for the skyscrapers.

Superheroes let us remember, in those brief periods we have to enjoy their company, that there is a better standard, a higher bearing, and a code of ethics. They, as Avery noted perfectly, remind us:

“It's surrendering your seat for those unable to stand, or holding the door open for a slew of people even when they don't acknowledge the effort, and then doing it again when the opportunity presents itself. It's doing the right thing, even if you're ridiculed and ostracized for it.”

How and when did you first learn of superheroes? Do you agree that the symbols are a form of branding? Let me know below: