To born again.

Daredevil Season III.

Drew Goddard and Jeph Loeb

Granted, I rather like him with the suit on.

Granted, thirteen chapters -again, Netflix? When-will-the-lesson-be-learned!!?- are more than too much.

Granted, it is Born Again by Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli, but more messed up than Memento.

And granted, nothing of the above matters when the good parts are more than good, and I can say to myself, relieved, that it were not my over the top expectations, or the decay of my beloved superhero genre, the problem. It was the general quality of the final products -in recent series/ movies- what was holding things down.

Like the original tale, the third season of the series abounds in hard to watch scenes, allegorical images, and non-gratuitous metaphors. A trail of blood on a canvas that was never really white, two pacts with the devil (the second one, no matter how you look at it), an improvised tomb that buries the dream of a better future. The performances, superb, help to cope almost with pleasure the obvious, unnecessary excess of chapters. The scenes of action rise far above the television format and, if we talk about creativity, quality, and especially the logic that should always be applied to special abilities, in two very specific cases the devil wins by two horns in the arena, until now, against the series and even the movies of the same (shared or not) universe. When the only rule and limit of the use -and abuse- of powers is "whatever the script indicates", there are no lightning bolts, magic tricks, super strength or bullets that can compare with a lethal rain of mundane elements. And no number of explosions worth a single scene, without cuts, in a hallway (Netflix trademark). "If everything is fantastic, nothing is credible." The writer Adolfo Bioy Cassares assured in an interview. A reborn series, overflowing with true emotions echoes those wise words to serve, in a plate of fine silver, the most exquisite extraordinary acts.