TV Review: "Jessica Jones" (2015)

Yes, we are an entire Netflix series behind.

But we did finally finish up Jessica Jones tonight, ending as it had to inevitably end, both for this season's plot and for the heavily-setup second season. And that is all good.

Jessica is a noir character, doomed by her own innate nobility and self-perceived flaws from the happy ending or the happy life. When she proclaims herself unable to say "I love you," it is a sign that any victory she wins will never satisfy, any achievement will always be flawed and tarnished in her eyes, and she will have to punish herself for the imperfections she intentionally adopts in order to punish herself.

Which makes Jessica Jones a tragedy in the super-hero world, something that's not common there (unlike the noir detective genre), but still very effective. And while being a tragedy, the series still carries the forms of the super-hero tale — the personal loss (heck, even being an orphan), the nemesis, the sidekicks, the initial failures, the ultimate victory.

But being a tragedy, all of these are amped up and turned dark. Jessica feels corrosive guilt about everything, starting with that personal tragedy (danced around in the series, enough to be understandable while still filled with mystery) and her surviving it. Her nemesis is not only her enemy, not only her Great White Whale, but the source of still further personal guilt, both for his past dominance over her and for her present impotence, time and again, to stop him. The sidekicks, the ones she loves, she both depends upon and thrusts away through her own misbehavior, attempting to safeguard them; they continue to return both from recognition of her need and through their own self-destructiveness.

And Jessica's obsession to find and destroy Kilgrave, the mind-controller, is driven both by righteous hatred for what he does to others and profound guilt over what he did to her. It's Stockholm Syndrome and survivor guilt and rape victim all bundled into one, a depressing and awful brew that drives the show and its protagonist to bloody conclusion that serves as outward victory and inner defeat.

All of which sounds terribly depressing — and that's not untrue — but it's also strangely attractive and engaging, because it's so very, deeply human, and as such makes Jessica (a person with super-human strength) vulnerable and relateable to. We've all felt guilt, we've all take actions that others think are right but that feel like ashes to us. Stephen Furtick wrote, "The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel." With Jessica Jones, we see the behind-the-scenes of a super-hero, and can compare it to our own.

The cast of the show is splendid. Krysten Ritter plays the bad-ass Supergirl-with-a-heart-of-tarnished-silver. David Tennant's Kilgrave is a strong enough role to make you forget him as the Tenth Doctor. Rachael Taylor plays step-sister and celebrity Patsy Walker, a normal woman forced into extraordinary circumstances. Mike Colter does a great Luke Cage, lover and pawn and a damaged super-human of his own. Carrie-Anne Moss plays the loathsome yet perversely sympathetic lawyer Jeri Hogarth. Eka Darville as the druggie Malcolm carries a multi-layered everyman role that is terribly understated and peripheral to what happens yet is essential enough to be there from the beginning to the end.

And everyone else — many of whom never make it to the last episode — is solid and engaging.

The series is long enough to explore the character and her world, to go down a few rabbit holes and dead ends, making about more than one good guy vs one bad guy. And if the final ep becomes just a wee didactic in stating themes that are best left unstated, it's not enough to take away from the total.

It's a great series, gut-wrenching and tragic and heroic and engaging. Highly recommended. 5 stars out of 5.

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