Daredevil has never caught my interest. Granted my knowledge of comics is passing–at best. I rely on Robert and Zimm for background information and the Suburban Prof for reading lists. Regardless, Daredevil has never seemed that interesting despite a clever premise and a sort of cool outfit.
Zimm, though, has been bugging me to watch the new Daredevil series on Netflix. So to keep the peace, I pulled it up while sending out emails.
Some of the scenes are cliche, tired–in particular the office exchanges could have been cut and pasted from any Law and Order episode. But the fight scenes define the show; they are when the series is at its best.
In one, the camera follows Daredevil down a hall. We follow him down the hall. But we stay in the hall as the battle moves from one room to the next. Thugs fly through doorways; file drawers are thrown by unseen combatants. We wait and watch almost afraid to move. In another, we crane our necks from the back seat of a car to see what is going on. Like Kurosawa or Tarantino, the director has made us a part of the story. We are in the film.
Unlike Flash or Arrow or even Batman, Daredevil is not performing for us. In fact, we are in his way, interlopers, seeing what is not meant to be seen.