Friday, February 24, 2017

Netflix present's Marvel's Luke Cage

So, I'm as torn on this show as Luke Cage is on being a hero. On the one hand - this show is super cheesy y'all. But on the same hand - that's kind of what it's going for.

Allow me to begin by layering on praise for the depth of culture shared through this show. In thirteen episodes the show pays homage to everything from Lebron James to Ralph Ellison to Tribe Called Quest. Whether it's having characters discuss sports history or villains referencing infamous politicians, the heart and spirit of the Harlem Renaissance and black culture is there.

Special shout out to the soundtrack to this show. Especially coordinated between Tribe's Ali Shaheed Muhammad and Adrian Younge each episode features performances from many different artists and goes deep into the rich history of music. Motown, soul, blues, R&B, disco, DJing, and the almighty Hip-hop rip through the tv show amplifying scenes that otherwise might have felt lackluster. All the in-episode performances practically saved the show for me.

The shows nails it's environment and it's culture well. Unfortunately what fails to come across is some form of dynamism. Within three episodes of watching I knew this wasn't going to be my favorite show. We meet Luke Cage after his rendezvous with Jessica Jones and after Frank Castle goes on a rampage so it's pretty much after all the other Marvel shows. Luke's serious intent to remain just "like any other guy" is honorable, but acts as a singular motive that grows very old very quickly. Misti Knight spices up her scenes, but in a manner that feels very contrived and that's partially because of the dialogue.

The dialogue in Luke Cage is incredibly cringey. I had moments where I couldn't take anything seriously. For a show that treats sexuality, violence, and drops all sorts of language bombs the tone flips 180 degrees as soon as somebody opens their mouths. Every time a police officer opens their mouths it's to offer some witty quip or make a horrible pun or insult their partner. Luke Cage's corny dialogue comes so often that it garners it's own in-show joke. It's cheesy there's no way around it, but I have a theory about this.

So, in much the same way that the show honors Black literary and musical traditions it also honors cinematic traditions. I'm talking specifically about Blaxploitation cinema, a genre which is universally recognized for it's cheesy elements. Lots of Blaxploitation movies center around criminals or former criminals looking to redeem themselves by putting an end to crime in their neighborhood. Oftentimes these stories took place in New York (in Harlem.) The trouble is that this aesthetic being honored here is directly at odds with the aesthetic of Marvel Netflix tv shows.

Being known as the "R-rated superheroes" of the Marvel universe these heroes deal with injustice on the streets. They come from a morally gray area since they fight not aliens or monsters but other super powereds (but often really smart humans.) Daredevil's catholic guilt languished over two seasons. Jessica Jones quested to combat her personal demons, representing women all over. Luke Cage lives the African American struggle today. All three of them struggle to maintain a human identity despite being superpowered. Violence, sexual assault, police brutality. Each show rests slightly on a political spectrum that gives it gravitas the movies could never have. That being said Luke Cage's blaxploitation elements flips that tone entirely on it's head, leaving me confused about how to view this show.

(It's also worth noting how the film honors not just Blaxploitation specifically but crime movies as well as the Barbershop movies.)

In an also ironic sense this show felt the most Comic Book-y of all of them so far. With narrative events turning in a matter of minutes the show's story can turn on a dime when it's felt like it was a slow build. Luke Cage can go from being persecuted in one episode to being adored within a two minute sequence. Characters pop up out of nowhere in a manner that's more Arrow than Sopranos. Which annoys the hell out of me. Where was this character before? How can they conveniently explain some plot detail through one flashback sequence? It's all exposition at times.

The show has a lot of potential topics to address especially when it comes to police brutality. They rake in lots of imagery: Luke in a hoodie being fired upon by the cops, Cottonmouth under a Biggie poster, the countless shoutouts to Luke Cage's original comic design. It's tough to wrap my head around though since this entire show feels like it's kept "in house." The antagonists are black (minus one who's Spanish?), the protagonists are black (and Rosario Dawson), the ancillary characters are black. The majority of the police are white, but even then the black cops consistently seem to abuse the system. The whole show demonstrates more black on black violence as opposed to addressing the real life race narrative we're living today. Then, in a big rush, they seem to talk directly about these issues in the last two episodes. All the commentary I was hoping to feel (because often times it's something you feel as much as see) came crashing down in the last two episodes. And what are we left with? A black man, with incredible powers, forced to go to jail (for a crime he didn't commit) despite saving his community from 1. An overarmed police and 2. A black gangster. So where do we really end up?

Just a side note: I was thoroughly disjointed when I watched Alfre Woodard's Mariah Dillard whip a crowd into a frenzy. She gets them all to shout 'down with Luke Cage' and convince them they should give police especially powerful guns. I found that moment where my suspension of disbelief stopped. Perhaps there's subversion to be said for that moment, but the result is direct: Cops with big guns can finally threaten Luke Cage and put him in handcuffs.

When the show flies it absolutely soars, but when it's down it's in the trenches. The environment is richly established and the show basks in African American culture. The players however, are struggling to perform with such stilted dialogue for an aesthetic that's counterintuitive for the content it's conveying. The one eighty pivot jars not only the audience but also the show. Still, it's saving grace is it's soundtrack. With much to say and a lot of mixed up Luke Cage falls behind it's predecessors as a Marvel Netflix original, but stands up on it's own. Enough for me to miss Mahershala Ali and to pray that season 2 addresses some of these real-life dramas we're living today and maybe offer some inspiration to those who need it. As it stands we end on a note for the show that basically says: the system will get you no matter what. I'm not sure I can get down with that.

(Also, I have to confess I'm impressed with their color schemes. In the way Daredevil utilizes different gradations of red throughout and how Jessica Jones focuses on different shades of purple Luke Cage practically shines in it's yellow aesthetic.)