Daredevil: Born Again Is Definitely Some Content

Daredevil: Born Again starts to hit its stride about eight episodes in. That’s a problem, because this is a nine episode season. But when, during its last hour, Frank Castle, aka The Punisher (played by Jon Bernthal), brutally fights an official NYPD squad that wears his skull logo as an homage—an “anti-vigilante task force” that goes so far as to kill looters dead and plant masks on their faces to justify it—Daredevil: Born Again arrives at something resembling an actual political statement, which isn’t really something you expect from Disney or Marvel. Sure, these cops are working for New York City’s new mayor, Wilson Fisk, the former crime lord known as the Kingpin, and thus there’s room for debate if Born Again is actually going ACAB or hedging its bets, but the only definitively “good” cop on the show is a burnt out retiree who hates what the force has become, so I think we can begrudgingly give them credit for this one. 

Born Again doesn’t suddenly become anti-cop eight hours in, but that is when it starts to overtly reference the real-world phenomenon of law enforcement using the murderous comic book vigilante The Punisher as some kind of inspiration. And given Disney’s past reluctance to protect its Punisher trademark from being co-opted by law enforcement and right-wing groups, it’s surprising to see a Disney-made show portray the police as unquestionable villains who are unquestionably influenced by a Marvel antihero. It’s only a side note to the series—the focus is squarely elsewhere throughout all nine episodes—but it’s still commendable. Now only if the rest of Born Again showed the same clarity.

Disney’s revival of the popular Netflix series is primarily interested in exploring power and the masks worn by people who use or pursue it—both masked vigilantes like Daredevil (played, again, by Charlie Cox) and businessmen-turned-politicians (and, um, comic book criminal masterminds) like Wilson Fisk, aka the Kingpin (Vincent D’Onofrio). It’s a topic that superhero comics have exhausted over the last 40 years, and that also drove basically every dude-approved cable TV series made between The Sopranos and Breaking Bad. That’s to say it’s old hat by this point, and Born Again doesn’t really blaze any new trails in this latest gritty interrogation of power. 

Even the parts that made this package reliably consistent in the Netflix era wilt in this revival. Cox’s innate charm is muffled by Matt Murdock’s punishing Catholic guilt and constant self-doubt—which, yes, have been Daredevil’s whole deal since going through the Frank Miller wringer in the comics, but the Netflix show at least gave us some relief from that self-seriousness through Daredevil’s balletic (if gruesome) violence. Beyond a sprawling fight scene with the villain Bullseye (Wilson Bethel) in the opening moments of the first episode, though, Murdock doesn’t wear Daredevil’s suit until two-thirds of the way through the season, almost Surf Dracula style. It’s all sad sack stoicism and indignation until then, with little of the levity or likability Cox showed in his She-Hulk cameo. Meanwhile D’Onofrio, a fine actor who was rightfully acclaimed for his portrayal of Fisk in the past, has become too mannered. He aims for nuance by keeping Fisk steady and reserved outside of brief glimpses of his inner emotions, but those expressions are so telegraphed, so big, so acting! that they undermine his entire approach. It doesn’t help that he speaks in a gruff monotone; clearly D’Onofrio honed in on Fisk’s “I am not a crook” demeanor, because he basically does a one-note Nixon voice the entire season.  

I don’t fault Cox and D’Onofrio for floundering for so much of the season, because the material they’re given isn’t that great until the last couple of episodes. Not coincidentally, that’s also when both actors spark to life again. It’s also when the season’s disparate, wayward plot strands start to come together. Born Again totally has that streaming problem where it’s simultaneously too long and too short; it would be stronger if it was either a typically meandering traditional 22 episode season, or a tight six-part miniseries. Instead it’s in-between, as oversized as the comic book version of the Kingpin. Born Again’s writers try to tie everything together—a late-season twofer involving a recent addition to Daredevil’s comic book rogues gallery is foreshadowed early on and framed as a crucial inflection point for both Murdock’s uneasy relationship with vigilantism and his up-to-that-point easy romantic relationship with new love interest Heather Glenn (Margarita Levieva, in her second Disney+ show in a year)—but it’s all clunky and awkward. The writers know where they want to go, and they ultimately get there, but there’s no way this was the best possible route.

Still: there’s virtue in finishing strong. Born Again feels like a slog for several episodes. A mid-season one-off homage to Inside Man (it’s even shot in the same bank) doesn’t quite mark the turning point, but it is the first episode to feel generally successful on its own terms. And then the last two episodes, with Murdock realizing he has to return to his mask and Fisk realizing he has to stop wearing the one he adopted to become mayor, and the show finally committing to its stance on law enforcement, sends the whole thing off on a relative high. Despite having to trudge through those early episodes, by the end I was hooked enough to watch the next season—which is coming, some day.

It’s pretty telling that the two primary highlights of a new Daredevil season are Michael Gandolfini in a secondary role as a Fisk deputy and Bernthal in what is basically an extended cameo. Gandolfini has yet to age into the power his father carried, which perfectly suits his role as Fisk’s equivalent of Elon Musk’s young DOGE villains. And Bernthal rages in full Bernthal mode, continuing his portrayal of The Punisher as not the inexplicably popular and “cool” antihero the comic character was in the 1980s (and apparently is still viewed as by cops today) but as an unhinged sociopath whose personal vendetta against the world occasionally dovetails with Daredevil’s own goals. Despite the clear similarity between Fisk and real-world villains like Trump and Eric Adams, Gandolfini and Bernthal play the two characters in Born Again who most feel like a part of this exact moment in time—Gandolfini in a prescient way, Bernthal through the evergreen relevance of berserk absolutists. (And if you want to watch a legitimately good TV show that deals with similar issues rooted in the real world, catch Bernthal in George Pelecanos and David Simon’s HBO miniseries We Own This City.)

I can’t call Born Again an outright failure, despite not enjoying most of it. I also can’t guess how fans of the Netflix series will react to it. Despite being on Disney+, it is not sanitized at all; many “fucks” are said, much blood is shed, and at least one head is graphically, disgustingly popped by a man’s bare hands. If Daredevil fans don’t stick with this one, it won’t be because it’s been bowdlerized. Born Again’s flaws lie elsewhere, and although they’re ample, they’re not fatal. Approach it with patience and maybe you’ll stick around long enough to see it work out its issues. That’s a lot to ask of an audience, though—maybe too much.

Senior editor Garrett Martin writes about videogames, TV, travel, theme parks, wrestling, music, and more. You can also find him on Blue Sky.

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