ONE of the more anticipated series in the second half of 2016, Luke Cage has much heavy lifting to do given the not inconsiderable expectations heaved upon its shoulders.
As part of the Netflix/Marvel Defenders franchise, its predecessors, Daredevil and Jessica Jones, have already established the standard in this corner of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, a bar Luke Cage reached with more ease than Daredevil season two.
But more likely, Luke Cage’s impact will be tied with what it adds to the conversation about the African-American experience in today’s USA. An experience that has been marred in recent years with high profile cases of police shooting dead unarmed black men and the charged-up protests that follow.
Luke Cage’s showrunner and creator, Cheo Hodari Coker, is on the record as saying now is the time for there to be a bulletproof black man on TV. And you can’t argue the image of a black man confidently striding up to a machine-gun, the bullets bouncing off him, isn’t a potent symbol of defiance and strength.
For some, there is a lot of catharsis in a character like Luke Cage, who made his first comic book appearance in the 1970s, in the post-Civil Rights era.
To tell this story, since we last saw Luke Cage (Mike Colter) in Jessica Jones, he’s relocated from Hell’s Kitchen to Harlem, a fugitive in hiding and working menial jobs for cash. One of these jobs is as a hair sweeper at Pop’s barbershop, a neutral anchor in the community.
It’s not long before Luke is swept up in the dirty racket run by Cornell “Cottonmouth†Stokes and his cousin, corrupt politician Mariah Dillard.
It’s a high-stakes game but it’s not your average life-versus-death showdown — he is an unbreakable strongman (even though he can be hurt, as we’ve seen in Jessica Jones). So while Luke is pretty much impervious, what’s at stake is the soul of the community.
Comic book fans will relish seeing a glimpse of Luke Cage in his more iconic costume, adorned in the yellow shirt, headband and wrist-cuffs they’ve seen on page.
The series is slow-starting, the first two episodes spend too much time on establishing the world. But once you’re past that, the narrative momentum picks up and it becomes very bingeworthy. By the end of the fourth episode (a compellingly told origin story), you’ll be hooked.
Colter has the physicality to carry off Luke Cage’s imposing presence, swatting away bad guys as if they were bugs. For the most part, he’s great in the role, more comfortable in Luke’s skin than when he was a supporting player in Jessica Jones.
Colter is particularly good at infusing the character, defined by his bulk and strength, with empathy and humanity. But where he falters is when he has to play tragedy or pathos — a level Colter can’t seem to reach, missing is a restraint that would’ve brought more layers to his performance.
Mahershala Ali (House of Cards) brings his A-game as Cottonmouth. He adeptly shifts from arch, comic book villainy to an antagonist with depth and internal conflict. Alfre Woodard and Frankie Faison, as always, bring gravitas to any project they’re involved in. Rosario Dawson’s Claire Temple character also makes a welcome return.
Aesthetically, the palette is dark but warm, lending the story an intimacy, as if you’re being invited in to learn more about this vibrant universe. There are times when the direction veers into Blaxploitation but this also works well on a comic book level. It also makes excellent use of music with funk, hip hop and jazz layered throughout while “live music performances†at Cottonmouth’s club effectively punctuate scenes of violence.
As Luke Cage’s villains say, the battle for Harlem is about “self-determination, control and powerâ€, and while it’s not perfect, the show has a lot to say about those heady concepts.
Luke Cage season one is available to stream on Netflix now.
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