Daredevil Brings Great New Villain(s)

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From Gene Hackman’s Lex Luthor to Phillip Blake’s The Governor (The Walking Dead), great casting and charismatic actors have frightened, enraged, and intrigued us with super villains from the comics universe. If you’re hankering for a new Big Bad, definitely turn on the Netflix series Daredevil. Vincent D’Onofrio strikes all the right notes of charming-sociopath evil in his surprisingly vulnerable Wilson Fisk (aka, Kingpin, in the original Frank Miller comic).

Daredevil Wilson Fisk

As many have noted, there’s an obvious historical reference in Wilson Fisk’s uber-developer “activities.” It’s a nod to mid-century NYC villain Robert Moses. Moses is the infamous urban planning autocrat and destroyer of blue-collar neighborhoods from the 1950’s and ’60’s.

But that’s overlooking the more salient two-headed juggernaut-of-gentrification: Mayor Giuliani/Bloomberg. Wilson Fisk “cleans up crime” by sending Chinese immigrant suicide bombers to Russian mobster hideouts; Giuliani/Bloomberg blows up minority neighborhoods with the now roundly repudiated policing tactic of stop-and-frisk.

Wilson Fisk wants to make the city safer and more beautiful. The question of course is, safer for whom? Beautiful in the eyes of whom? Giuliani and Bloomberg say the same thing during their tenures as mayor. Gentrification may bring safety and (a very particular kind of) beauty. But at what cost? By its nature gentrification shreds the existing social fabric — demolishing the historic character of the street and displacing existing residents. Consider the following.

  • In central Harlem the white population grew 405% between 2000 and 2010.
  • Average house prices in Harlem increased 86%.
  • 37% of the city was re-zoned.
  • Eight of the city’s tallest buildings have been built since 2001.

My brother lived on Manhattan’s Lower East Side (aka, LES) from 1993 to 2007. During the ’90’s, when I would visit him we’d walk through the blacktop city park around the corner, and I would worry about the kids on the seesaws and doing Double Dutch on the sidewalk; scattered on the asphalt were spent syringes and used condoms from people in the park the night before.

Since the time of Giuliani/Bloomberg, the grit and grime of the LES has been completely erased. Crime has been rendered moot. But that park is gone, too. So are the children. Now the LES is high-rise condos and the well-to-do. The Salvation Army Residence is now the Bowery Boutique Hotel. CBGB, the iconic, hellhole live music venue, is now a John Varvatos shop.

Sounds great. But what about history? What of people and character displaced? No more Indian curry walk-up windows. No more mudflap, by-the-slice pizza counters. The writers and academics? The Asian produce vendors and union film-production workers (like my brother)? They’re all gone.

And it hasn’t stopped with Manhattan. As new skyscrapers push lower-income and middle class Manhattanites out, the displaced are pushing into the outer boroughs. A telling New York Post headline reads, “New Hipsters Fight Old Hipsters in Bushwick.” Another headline puts it less ironically: “Gentrification as ‘Benign Ethnic Cleansing.'”

Here’s an amazing image from an article in Gothamist :

gentrification Google Street view - Daredevil blog post

Image credit: Justin Blinder, via Gothamist

 

New York Magazine says of Bloomberg’s development efforts:

[Bloomberg] bullied and cajoled developers, steered Liberty Bonds their way, and pushed through rezoning as they wanted. Today, each new Skyland Summit gets superseded by another. The race to the clouds is reminiscent of 1930, when the Chrysler Building and 40 Wall Street tried to bound past each other for the title of world’s tallest — only to have their rivalry mooted a year later by the Empire State building.

Sound like someone we know? (Less the immigrant suicide bombers, of course.)

VINCENT D'ONOFRIO as WILSON FISK in the Netflix Original Series “Marvel’s Daredevil” Photo: Barry Wetcher © 2014 Netflix, Inc. All rights reserved.

Photo: Barry Wetcher
© 2014 Netflix

The Walking Dead, Season 5: Death? Uh, yeah.

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screen-shot The Insightful Panda dot com

Rick in the church becoming a god. (Screenshot credit: TheInsightfulPanda.com)

Has ‘The Walking Dead’ Cracked My All-time TV Top 5?

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[If you haven’t watched Season 5, yet, stop reading, right now. Or, enter at your own risk . . .]

Just a few words of praise upon finishing Season 5.

Wow, do I have my hair blown back. And I don’t mean just by the thrills and chills. I mean by the relationship drama, the villains/villainy, the comedy. Perhaps where the show excites me most is the inventiveness — a.k.a., rule-breaking — of its cinematography. That’s especially true of Season 5. Sure, the camera work has always been fresh and ingenious. But now, with all the night shooting and severe-yet-nuanced studio lighting, they’ve really turned the thumbscrews on pure retinal agitation. Plus, shooting on the infinitely more mobile 16mm camera produces some startlingly original looks. Like in Ep. 3, “Four Walls and a Roof,” in the church, when our heroes turn the tables on Gareth and Martin, and the hunters become the hunted. That shot from Gareth’s point of view, looking up at Rick wielding the “machete with the red handle.” Sure, that point of view isn’t new, angled up and making a giant of Rick. But the framing — the shot has the altar and stained glass in the background. You’re not supposed to elevate heroes to the level of God. (Not in America, anyways. It’s not an uncommon trope in Japanese screen culture, especially in anime. See Berserk.)

Though it’s impossible to argue what the show does best, consistency has to be part of that conversation. Not a single episode feels like a dud, not in any of the five seasons. Only the rarest cable drama reaches this astonishing level of reliability, episode to episode. The Sopranos, Six Feet Under, and Deadwood keep it at a “10” from bell to bell. But other shows? I can’t think of any. Even some of my favorite shows of all time have their off, phone-it-in days. Dexter, Breaking Bad, The Wire. None of them can match such perfection.

In its mature state the series unsurprisingly has become heavily philosophical. Mostly themes of identity and ego. And, oh yeah, that third theme. Despite having way more characters who die than survive, the show has rarely been about death. Season 5 is about death. Tyrece, Beth, Bob, Martin. (Martin. Yep. Death.) That the nature of existence depends on death — or, rather, IS death — that’s one common thread among the episodes of Season 5.

It’s no coincidence Beth is only a great character when she confronts death.  At the front of her plot arc (Season 2, Ep.10) she tries to kill herself; at the back of her plot arc (Season 5, Ep. 8) she dies bitterly. In both, her cynicism and clear sight ring true. Take for instance her first real scenes (Season 2, Ep. 10). Maggie tries to talk Beth out of suicide.

Maggie: “You could do that to Dad?”

Beth:  “He’s clueless. He had us waitin’ for a cure.”

Maggie: “You could do that to me? I can’t take another funeral.”

Beth: “You can’t avoid it. What are we waiting for? We should both do it. At the same time–”

Maggie:  “What!”

Beth: “–help each other. It’s hard to do–”

Maggie: “Stop talking like that.”

Beth: “–our choice. Then it would be over. Or we’ll be forced to do it when this house and the farm is overrun . . . I don’t want to be gutted.”

In Seasons 3 and 4, the middle span of her plot arc, Beth comes across as flat and contrived and superfluous. But her lustrous scenes in Season 5, Ep’s 6 – 8, anchoring the drama of the mid-season finale, she grows into herself. She survives in that Lost-like, dystopian hospital from hell. She stands up to the depraved corruption, the naked abuse. She helps shield victims of what is essentially a prison. She becomes larger than life, becomes a worthy member of our group of super heroes. In her swan song she says, sneering, seething at Dawn, “I get it now.” She stabs Dawn in the chest and gets shot in the face. Showrunner Scott Gimple could’ve gotten many more great miles out of her. But her death feels just forthright. It is certainly courageous on his part.

Throughout this season Rick feels the need to tell the town folk over and over, “It’s all about survival.” Well, that’s one side of the coin.