Over winter break, I made the fateful decision to dive headfirst into the almost ludicrously expansive universe of Marvel original Netflix shows. In typical inexperienced fan fashion, I accidentally watched the one show that required the prior knowledge of all of the others first: The Defenders.
This 2017 series brings together Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, and Iron Fist for eight episodes full of fight sequences, tense, mumbled dialogue, and, of course, just a few too many ninjas. Though the series has hardly received critical acclaim (one review from The Vulture notably calls it “a pretty grim slog”), it’s definitely built on foundations of huge potential, and the hope that those foundations might suddenly skyrocket into something interesting kept me watching to the end. Unfortunately, the show never quite gets there, relying on relationships already forged in each character’s solo series to string along the plot to its dubious close and failing to establish the Defenders as a connected team.
Still, any of the unfortunate souls on the receiving end of my recent Marvel rants could tell you that my least favorite part of the show by far was Iron Fist, also known as multi-billionaire Danny Rand. Beyond the fact that the character’s concept itself is questionable (flanked by a largely Asian supporting cast, he is a white main character who somehow manages to master a fictional and largely othered mish-mosh of martial arts better than any of the Asian characters who originated it, a pattern that Marvel is all too fond of following), he is simply uninteresting, sporting a perpetual scowl and consistently taking himself far too seriously. At one point in the series, Luke is literally tasked with babysitting Danny after he refuses to go into hiding for the sake of New York’s safety and pushes around an amused Daredevil like a toddler who’s just been put in time-out. His character remains static throughout the show, and to the last episode any appearance of Iron Fist had me rolling my eyes and reaching for my phone.
As it turns out, though, my adventures with the Defenders didn’t end there. The supergroup’s new comic incarnation, written by Brian Michael Bendis and drawn by David Marquez, was recently canceled, but my interest in the characters’ potential was enough to make me pick up its first collected volume. I was floored by the easy flow of the dialogue, the perfectly struck balance between humor and seriousness, the clear establishment that each character was willing to work with and trust the others — and, most of all, the hilarious and endearing characterization of Iron Fist.
Though the problematic nature of his background is still present, this Danny Rand seems to intentionally parody himself. Actions and words that come off as self-important in the TV show are juxtaposed on the page with almost disarmingly commonplace dialogue — even as he meditates seriously in a hospital room, he calls another character a “jerkface.” He puts forth his talents for the benefit of others and actually banters with the other Defenders rather than being — pardon the pun — defensive. Here, our four protagonists seem to unite as a team. They fight and plot and joke in tandem, constantly guessing at Daredevil’s real name (most of the others are convinced it’s Gary) even as they stake out a mission. And it’s not just Iron Fist who’s different — Daredevil himself, the other downer in the world of Marvel Netflix shows, maintains just enough of his traditional focused composure whilst still partaking in the fun.
All of these discrepancies beg the question: what is it about the medium of TV show versus comic that makes the change so drastic?
Certainly, some of the difference is simply due to the fact that different teams are behind both Defenders incarnations. Beyond that, though, Marvel’s Netflix shows as a whole are the darkest out of all of the company’s ventures, consistently subjecting their viewers to extremely graphic violence (Elektra Natchios, anyone?) and only occasionally breaking up seriously twisted plots with dry humor, perhaps with the exception of Jessica Jones. They’re also literally the darkest — it’s almost impossible to see what happens in a Marvel Netflix show unless you’re huddled up in a room with all the lights turned off and the shades pulled down.
The comics, on the other hand, seem to have their own special brand of humor. Characters develop their own personal quirks of dialogue and action, and laugh-out-loud funny lines might appear a page or two after a character almost dies. Battles and banter can occur simultaneously and seamlessly, as there’s no need to work within the confines of an actor’s body or pause for some semblance of realism. Perhaps this is why the comics flesh out the potential of these characters so easily: there are no limits, no expectations of realistic humanity, on the pages of a comic book. It might come off as campy or far-reaching for a character on a Marvel Netflix show to be injured, heal completely in a few hours, and make jokes the entire time.
Why? Well, the characters in the Marvel Netflix universe are people. They’re people who genuinely live among us, working on the ground to better everyone’s lives — they’re not the Avengers sitting in a tower, removed from the public and keeping their private lives private. Some, like Luke Cage, wear their powers on their sleeves, unable to hide behind a secret identity. Whilst the goal of the comics tends much more towards total escapism, the possibilities of the page basically infinite, the goal of the shows is to give the viewer who might be familiar with Marvel movies a taste of another side to superheroism: not the Captain Americas, but the Jessica Joneses, the ones who could be any of us.
Though this conclusion doesn’t smooth over the many problems in the shows, especially The Defenders, it does provide a glimpse at what the creators might have aimed for. Neither the dark Netflix approach nor the more lighthearted comic one is correct, per say, but if you’ve been as emotionally drained by the drama as I have, pick up a copy of the Defenders Volume I: Diamonds are Forever as soon as you can. Who knows — you too might be converted to loving your least favorite characters.
