It’s worth mentioning that in only three seasons of television, the Netflix arm of the Marvel Cinematic Universe had managed to deliver more diversity in its lead characters than the entire MCU had in the eight years since Robert Downey Jr. smugly announced he was Iron Man. Just take a quick run down the list: Daredevil’s super senses may massively compensate for the fact that he’s blind, but he’s still disabled. Similarly, Jessica Jones was headlining her own self titled series years before we saw the words Captain Marvel on a movie poster and finally, while Black Panther and Sam Wilson becoming Captain America may have set a great many things right within the MCU, Netflix had already said a fair few things about black superheroes thanks to the 2016 release of Luke Cage. But while it’s all very well for a show to delve deep into complex social matters, does it still manage to find that all important balance between gritty, urban commentary and sock-em’-on-the-jaw superheroics?
In the wake of his introduction in Jessica Jones, we find super strong, super durable Luke Cage back in Harlem and still laying low despite working multiple jobs to get by. When he isn’t sweeping hair at the barbershop owned by ex-gangster Henry “Pop” Hunter, he’s washing dishes behind the scenes at Harlem’s Paradise, the prospering nightclub belonging to crime boss Cornell “Cottonmouth” Stokes, and while you may be wondering why a man with superpowers is reduced to doing such remedial jobs, all Luke worries about is keeping his head down and remaining true to his moral beliefs.
However, as he just wants to make rent and keep his pride, we see that the sprawling world in which he lives is about to get shaken up after a couple of youths from the area think it’s a good idea to jack an arms deal going on between Stokes’ men and neighbouring gang leader Domingo Colon. The resulting fallout not only creates tension between the criminal organisations and creates a cash flow problem that trickles down to Stokes’ cousin, New York City Council member, Mariah Dillard, but the people above Cottonmouth send Herman “Shades” Alverez in to get things back on track.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the law, NYPD detective Misty Knight is investigating the bloody fall-out of the arms raid and while two of the offending kids are rapidly taken out of the picture by various means, the third, Chico, is still in the wind with the rest of the money. But what does any of this have to do with Luke Cage? Well, not a damn thing if he has anything to say about it – but after a one night dalliance with Knight and an altercation with Dillard’s men about squeezing locals for money, it seems that despite his desire to be left alone, Harlem need a hero to hire.
While Netflix’s Daredevil gave us a sprawling crime epic and Jessica Jones put a superhero spin on psycho thrillers while pulling no punches about the female experience and toxic relationships, it seems that the first season of Luke Cage is looking to merge the two. Even as early as the first episode, the show fully places both a swaggering crime boss and a corrupt political official front and centre with Mahershala Ali’s Cottonmouth and Alfre Woodard Mariah Dillard jumping through the typically stressful hoops that come with trying to hold together a criminal empire within the MCU. But beyond all the crime stuff, the show is obviously incredibly enthusiastic about bringing the black experience to the Marvel Cinematic Universe in ways we’ve never seen it before, as the showrunners load up every frame with references to the Harlem culture.
Obviously, the entire show plays on a sort of neo-Blaxploitation vibe, which isn’t surprising considering the character originally spawned from the explosion of such movies as Shaft, Foxy Brown, Super Fly and the like, but beyond that, the camera lingers on various black literature laying in various apartments, concentrates on using music by black artists pounding over the speakers (every episode is named for a song title by hip hop duo Gang Starr) and frequently has characters openly discussing race in multiple scenes. If you wanted more black representation in superhero media, the makers of Luke Cage seem more than willing to go all in.
However, while the above is undoubtedly important, it’s all going to be wasted somewhat if the show it’s contained in doesn’t hold interest; but while the image of a law abiding black man being impervious to bullets is something of a powerful image (even more so in the subsequent wake of BLM), the first episode of Luke Cage’s solo show actually goes a little slow on the heroics, hired or otherwise. Obviously, we have an entire world to surround Mike Colter’s Cage with, be it the aforementioned antagonists, or the likes of Frankie Faison’s kindly Pop or Simone Missick’s stand out, Misty Knight; however, there’s a feeling that anyone leaping onto this show without watching any of the previous superhero seasons may feel that Cage himself is too much of an enigma. While it’s refreshing to see a black hero not be fueled by bombast, but instead move with stoic dignity, the fact that a good portion of his past had already been touched upon in Jessica Jones means that the whole business of his murdered wife, Reva, is frequently referenced but never explained. Similarly, it’s strange to see Cage, who has gone from running his own bar to slumming in barber shops and washing dishes, now have way more of a stand-off attitude than he did in that previous show and it’s almost as if the show has regressed Cage a little to give him more of an arc to play with here.
Still, as first episodes go, it’s as reliably solid as Cage’s epidermis. Everything is lit in warm, golden hues; the score is sublime; I love the opening titles and we even get far more overt references to the greater MCU (street sellers are hocking DVD footage of the battle from the Avengers); but while the show is taking its time to bring out the hero in our lead, it’s going great guns when it comes to fleshing out its villains. In fact, the shot of Cottonmouth standing in front of a painting of Biggie Smalls with the picture’s crown looking like it’s sitting on his head may actually be the most iconic villain shot in MCU history. Still, before the episode comes to an end, we get to see Cage do his stuff and take out a bunch of thugs; but while I don’t think the sight of someone breaking their fist on Cage’s jaw will ever get dull, Luke seems to be overwhelmed by the numerous introductions of his own cast.
A strong opening for Luke Cage’s solo show gives us plenty new characters to catch our attention, with Harlem itself almost taking the standout lead role. But while the premiere works admirably hard to engrain black culture into every single shot, it’s lead seems strangely passive for a character that should’ve hit the ground running after being introduced in a previous show.
🌟🌟🌟🌟
We Have Issues 