Netflix’s The Defenders Is for Fans Only, and That’s Its Biggest Problem

Sometimes it is our job to render a critical opinion on something and we are in the hashtag-blessed position of knowing why we think something is awesome, or why we think something is tragically non-awesome. And sometimes Netflix hands us Marvel’s The Defenders and things get freaking awkward because we have no clue what we think but have to act as though we do.

OK: I’m not going to play games here. Screw learned opinions and proper use of the terms mise-en-scène and character-driven and But What Are The Stakes? and stuff. Is Netflix’s new addition to the eternally swelling pantheon of Stan Lee Superdudes good?

No clue. Seriously, I have no idea—and I have no idea why I have no idea. Here is what I can tell you. There is this collection of characters, who are sort of flawed and sort of heroic, who might or might not be part of an eternal lineage of mystical warriors, or might or might not have run afoul of an experiment, a chemical spill or gamma radiation or something, who probably have a bunch of baggage but have learned to clock bad guys over the head with it. There’s a shadowy enemy threatening to destroy Gotham. Um, New York. I meant New York. There is a reluctant coming together of people who Work Alone. Now, these folks have previously televised origin stories and maybe if you are a dedicated Jessica Jones watcher you wouldn’t be grappling with all the “what’s going on?” shit in The Defenders. See, I wouldn’t know, because I haven’t seen it. Now, I happen to believe I should not have to have seen some other show, or indeed read any of these comics, in order to have a clue what’s going on. And I have the distinct sense watching the first episodes that I am on the wrong side of a bunch of in-jokes. For you, this might not be a minus. For me, it is.

Jessica Jones (Krysten Ritter) is a private investigator who’s really strong but her main superpower is metabolizing cheap booze. She’s laconic enough to give Deadpool’s girlfriend Vanessa a run for her money, and to make things even more déjà-vu-ey, she actually looks quite a bit like Deadpool’s girlfriend Vanessa. She’s crabby and flippant, probably because she has a supersized hangover most of the time or because she has seen a lot of evil and as anyone knows who’s watched the news any time in the last few years, that’ll put a dent in your mood.

Luke Cage (Mike Colter) is The Hero of Harlem and recently sprung from the Stoney Lonesome for… reasons. He is bulletproof. But not indictment-proof. He has a presumably well-earned stick up his ass about people with “privilege” even though I’d say being superstrong and bulletproof in Harlem qualifies as a fucking privilege but hey, it’s Stan’s world, not mine. He is nailing Rosario Dawson in a manner not consistent with a teen-friendly rating.

Danny Rand (Finn Jones) is a billionaire playboy who owns Wayne Enterprises. I mean Stark Enterprises! No, I mean the Rand Corporation, sorry. He was raised by kindly but disciplinarian nuns in a mystical Asian city after the murder of his parents. He is the Immortal Iron Fist. No, look, honestly, he is Ser Loras Tyrell without the lustrous curls and with a glowing qi-bomb right uppercut instead of a sword. Like you can take the boy out of Westeros, etc., etc. He even has this sidekick, Colleen Wing (Jessica Henwick), who was totally just killed by Euron Greyjoy like two weeks ago on that other show, so… um… possibly my failure of imagination. But truly, possibly just not super versatile performers here. No offense, Nymeria Sand.

Matt Murdock (Charlie Cox) is a blind lawyer who has hung up his supersuit and is hung up on a lost love named Elektra. For a blind guy he can move really, really fast and with such precision I am assuming he has echolocation and several X-Man type meta-powers.