5 out of 5

Created by: Melissa Rosenberg

covers season 1

Did this just happen?  Did a – for all intents and purposes – mainstream series just prove to us that you can make a gender-balanced, slow-burn television show with a very non-traditional lead (Jessica might be an anti-hero, but it is not executed with the usual audience serving winks) and meaningful yet non-moralizing scripting part of a multi-million dollar franchise?  I think, in the wake of Daredevil, we had faith that Jessica Jones was going to be a good show, but this is even further from name recognition and spandex than Guardians of the Galaxy, so what were we going to get?  Could we have expected the show’s patient approach to powers and villainy; its jazzy noir vibe?

Yes, this did just happen.  Credit Marvel, or Netflix, or even We The Viewer for showing we will like stuff like this, but JJ is the kind of series that would generally sneak by as a cult show before being canceled, or have to exist on cable (somewhat side-stepping whatever we’re considering streaming service shows at this point); that it can be part of the slowly expanding and surprisingly still exciting Marvel Cinematic Universe and also just be a damn good show on its own standards and also be part of the current cultural mainstream is insane.

As usual with the internet, the praise that can be lumped on the show has been stated better than I can in multiple places.  One particular summary I appreciated, on io9, discussed viewing the show through the lens of being a discussion on PTSD.  In the blown-out world of spandex heroes, while emotional aftermath is a big part of things – and, you could say, the one-shade driving force behind the grim and gritty movement – truly stepping through it bit by bit just isn’t going to happen.  Subtlety ain’t comics’ bag.  Your parents are shot and killed and so you become Batman; something something another example that would probably name-check DC and not Marvel but both companies are certainly guilty of it.  Jones, on the surface, pulls the same isolationist moves as Daredevil’s Matt Murdock – those around you are liable to get burned, so force them to stay away – but creator Melissa Rosenberg has firmly leashed her show to reality and surrounded the series with the perfect blend of emotional counterpoint characters (not sure how much of the plotting is from Bendis’ comic, so reluctant props to him if that was actually his setup) to force the 13 episodes to not just “deal” with things in a crowd pleasing manner.  Jessica’s life has its tragedies, large and small, and the main villain – David Tennant’s Kilgrave – though in possession of comic-booky mind control powers, is equally a very human villain; the effect he’s had on Jessica’s life can be worked in under the guise of that villainy, but his presence and m.o. is an all too common affair that, alas, can occur without mind control.  This is the subtle push-pull of the show: giving us heroes and twists and Luke Cage’s and fights, and then representing – and not trying to ‘resolve’ – some very real emotions at the same time.  You could say this is the ultimate realization of what Stan Lee created with a picked on teen with spider powers: the Marvel Universe has always been about filtering that which ails us through six panel, four-color antics; now we’ve grown up, and we can get a grown up version of that formula.

Anyhow.  So much of this works in large part because of the casting, something that Daredevil also nailed.  Krysten Ritter’s Jones is a little rough around the edges at first, with Ritter’s droll delivery initially applied in its typically juxtaposed manner (her deadpan cynical reaction to any given situation obviously can have humorous applications), but as the world gets fleshed out with best friend Trish Walker (Rachel Taylor), love interest Luke Cage (Mike Colter), hanger-on Malcolm (Eka Darville) scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours resource Jeri (Carrie-Anne Moss) and baddie Kilgrave, everything begins to evolve.  Every episode in which we’re pretty sure we’ve figured out a particular character arc will be expanded upon by a subsequent episode.  This is not a show with any clear filler, even if retrospect gives one the ability to say X, Y or Z could’ve been cut.  And not enough positive things can be said about Tennant’s depiction of Kilgrave.  This could have been a more one-dimensional baddie; the dialogue, delivered differently, or the character’s body language handled otherwise, could have allowed Kilgrave to be boxed up into simple descriptions.  Tennant elevates the role into something horrifyingly human.  His powers are frightening, but it’s the person wielding them that becomes moreso, because we can see the spin cycle that led him to be what he is.

The conclusion of the season underlines those affecting aspects of the show I’ve attempted to highlight.

There were points during Jones where maybe I though the show was wandering, or that it was starting to drift too far to one side (my off-hand gender-balanced comment above relates to this – that I was worried the show was going to go into overdrive to prove it was a Gal’s action show, but this never happened); this is the first time I see the benefits of dumping a show in our laps all at once, though, as the binge-allowing season pack makes the overall cohesiveness of the season incredibly apparent.  Taken week to week, the slow pace might have let me convince myself I wasn’t witnessing a game changing show.  But I didn’t, and I was.  We must keep our wits about us, lest we start to expect this of Marvel.  Because good god damn, if things continue to be this good, when the let down happens, it’s gonna be mighty.