Daredevil is the latest in a series of comic book-based television shows to grace us with its presence. And while I love the premise of Daredevil– a blind laywer-by-day, vigilante-by-night takes on New York City (I’ll leave it at that for the sake of avoiding spoilers)– I think the interesting part comes when we think about Daredevil himself as a character… And well, I barely feel like I know him, even after a whole lotta binge watching.
This review contains plot spoilers only for season one and two, but it may shock block some of season three. Proceed with caution!
My weekend by the numbers: two orders of takeout (both large enough to feed at least five people), eight cups of tea, seven Girl Scout cookies, and thirteen hours of House of Cards.
Just as the show’s characters face major career nosedives in season three, the show itself seems to be plummeting into a void that lacks some of its original charm and intrigue… The key word, however, is “some.” I mean, I watched the entire season in one weekend and never once felt dissuaded from doing so. So how bad could it all really be?