Jessica Jones… You Deserve More

There’s no doubt that the Netflix corner of the Marvel Cinematic Universe has had its ups and downs. The unfortunate fact is that the highs were so high and the lows only got better before Netflix dropped the axe on all five of their Marvel series.

The first two shows to explore a grittier, more grounded, level of the MCU were undoubtedly the best. Daredevil showed us that Marvel could deliver what Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy did for DC (before DC really miffed their follow-ups). It presented us with a Mathew Murdoc that lives in our world. Even though he canonically has superpowers, the show ensured that they were muted and Matt’s struggle with balancing a normal life with past traumas and a desire to act as a vigilante were at odds. The show quickly built engaging relationships with its core cast of characters. It gave us a tour de force performance by Vincent D’Onofrio that presented a truly insurmountable threat, not to the world the way The Avengers films do, but to this city, to these characters.

Jessica Jones Season 1 only improved on this idea. Jones was even more explicitly “powered” (the show’s chosen nomenclature for these characters), but the show wasn’t so much about that. Jessica Jones focused on a deeply flawed protagonist, one that most viewers (myself included) probably didn’t like very much at first. Yet, the show drew us into her personal trauma, how that made it difficult for her to maintain meaningful friendships or a successful business. Jones didn’t stop there though; it also brought forward a larger allegory for women. Before #metoo was a major part of the greater zeitgeist, Jessica Jones drew clear parallels between a mind-controlling villain, expertly played by David Tennant, and a super-strong heroine, confidently and complexly played by Krysten Ritter, to power dynamics, manipulation, and rape. It’s a bold way to start a series about a Marvel superhero. For as good as many of them are, the Marvel films never take a strong stance on social issues. Not in a way that is disconcerting and makes the viewer question their own views on a subject.  Even the supporting cast and plots with Jeri Hogarth (played indominable and nuanced by Carrie-Anne Moss) and Trish Walker (played headstrong and vulnerable by Rachael Tayler) show women in positions of power that also must face similar, if not the same, bullshit that women with less professional success must navigate.

I won’t sit here and defend Iron Fist, but it did slightly improve in its second season. The Punisher was decent in its first season but improved in its second by giving Frank Castle something to fight for instead of relying on revenge as a core character motivation. His relationship with Amy in the second season truly shows that he’s not just a killing machine. Luke Cage held back too much in its first season. The second season was bolder and more confident in telling a story with allegories about the African-American experience. This made it better. The greatest thing a movie or television show can do is draw you into its world. It can help its viewers build empathy and connection with characters that inhabit it, even if they are different than the viewer.

Jessica Jones faltered a little in it’s second season, much like Daredevil. This is partially because the first seasons were so strong. It’s hard to follow-up a poignant superhero story. The very phrase can often be seen as a oxymoron. Still, Jessica Jones Season 2 managed to keep its core purpose. The focus shifted from men’s effect on women and to the relationships that women maintain between each other. The second season is an exploration of the strained mother-daughter, sororal, and professional relationships that women sometimes have. It’s unfortunate that these plot points seemed a little rushed at times, and they delivered a little less punch than the first season. Trish especially seemed to be an exaggerated version of herself in that season. That is largely rectified in the final season, however.

Season 3 of Jessica Jones delivers an excellent escalation of the premise in the same way that Daredevil Season 3 does. They both take a step back and perform a little bit of a redo. Perhaps bigger is not actually better. Daredevil takes a second shot at delivering a better example of how obsession can interfere with, and obscure, everyday relationships. Jessica Jones revisits Trish and how she might become radicalized given the adversity that she’s been forced to face. Even Jeri’s story becomes more about facing death instead of a power struggle as a professional woman. The latter is very important for film and television to display, but her character was never professionally meek. Sometimes presenting equality effectively in media is not distinguishing between gender, race or sexual orientation. Sometimes it’s proving that we’re all just the same, especially when facing more universal conflicts such as death.

Jessica Jones wasn’t consciously chosen as the last installment of these shows. Netflix cancelled all of them. No one really knows why. It could be because of Disney’s announcement of a streaming service. It could be because of internal studio issues. It could be because of viewership. Any way that you cut it, the Marvel Cinematic Universe is worse for it. The theatrical releases are often great, but these series’ focus on specific issues that connect with a subset of viewers in the same way that comics have done for nearly a century. I hope neither Disney nor Netflix forgets that.