The Prometheus of an old-fashioned director.
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...
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