Worth the Binge! Blog Hop - the Marvel edition

I wrote on Monday about my love for K-dramas. That, of course, wasn’t what got me started on Netflix binging. That honor goes to House of Cards, but I’ve already talked about how over that series I am (the Kevin Spacey douchiness makes me feel better about that decision). What kept me paying the ever-increasing subscription charge after that were the Marvel shows. So let’s talk about the good, the bad, and the What The Hell is Going On.

My husband and children watched Daredevil before I did, but I could hear it in the background and thought it was taking itself wayyy too seriously, and that’s taking into account the tragic backstory of being blinded as a child and then orphaned. I think, overall, that’s still a good way to describe both Matt Murdoch aka Daredevil (Charlie Cox), but that overlooks the charms of Matt’s BFF and law partner Foggy Nelson (Eldon Henson) and secretary turned journalist Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll). Honestly, Karen’s frequent outbursts and teariness irritated me at first (women don’t cry enough on television, right?), but by the sixth episode I found myself grudgingly admiring her determination, fortitude, and courage. She was well paired with journalist Ben Urich (Vondie Curtis-Hall) and later editor Mitchell Ellison (Geoffrey Cantor), who helped her (and of course Daredevil) expose the corruption of Wilson Fisk aka Kingpin (Vincent D’Onofrio). 

Well, what do you expect when you're a vigilante?

You’d think D’Onofrio would have been enough reason for me to watch this in the first place (did anyone else watch Law and Order: Criminal Intent just for him, or was that just me?), but the ridiculous graveliness he injected into Fisk’s voice made me cringe. Again, something I grew to ignore as the episodes marched on and we got a glimpse into the horrific childhood that shaped him into a crime boss with delusions of sainthood. Humanizing him even more was his love affair with Vanessa Marianna (Ayelet Zurer), a gallery owner shrewd enough to know what he really was but brave enough to stay with him after he bared his soul. Those touches of humanity were almost enough to get me through the absolutely savage treatment he inflicted on both friends and foes.

That was Season One, and it was definitely interesting enough to make me tune in for Season Two, but that was a disappointment. I can’t even describe it, other than to say that the presence of both Frank Castle aka The Punisher (Jon Bernthal) and Matt’s old flame Elektra Natchios (Elodie Yung) was supposed to serve some ridiculous plot that would explain why Matt would be so isolated by the end. Whatever. All I remember is by the end I was screaming at both Foggy and Karen that they needed to get as far away from him as they could.

If Daredevil in total earns a B (because I’m generous), Iron Fist is lucky to get a C. You’ve heard all of the complaints before, so I’ll just recap: Marvel was cowardly in the Seventies for wanting a martial arts hero but being unwilling to make the character, you know, actually Asian (I mean, it worked for Kung Fu and David Carradine, so why not?) and today’s Marvel and Netflix were extra special douchey for hiding behind said forty-year old decision; even given that, Danny Rand (Finn Jones) and Ward (Tom Pelphrey) and Joy Meachum (Jessica Stroup) positively reeked white privilege, and not even in the fun way a la Dynasty or Gossip Girl; the plot was ridiculous; Jones couldn’t act; and the actors had no chemistry. Some of that is all true to varying degrees, but it’s overlooking the most important problem: in the words of the legendary Michael Logan when describing the downfall of daytime soaps in the late 1990s, the writing sucked. It wasn’t fair to ask any of the actors to be more given the truly cringe worthy dialogue they were given and the stupid plot they were asked to support. Kudos to David Wenham as Harold Meachum and Pelphrey for being able to rise above the script (most of the time), but since in essence they were telling the story of a parent-child relationship gone to Hell (and then resurrected), their job was arguably less difficult. 

Let's agree that maybe this isn't the strongest premise.

It baffles me that most people felt Season Two was better, because if anything, I found the dialogue even harder to listen to, especially what they had Colleen Wing (Jessica Henwick) say. The bright spot was the introduction of Alice Eve as Typhoid Mary, but the less said about the stupid plot that brought her on, the better.

Those are the heroes that could use some work, so let’s talk about the ones who got it right.

Luke Cage is one of the coolest shows on television at any time. Best music, hands down; best group of female characters on any show (while I love Jessica Jones, she’s the only one on her show with her act together, and not always at that); incredible supporting cast (Alfre Woodard, Simone Missick, Karen Pittman, Rosario Dawson, Mahershala Ali, Sonja Sohn, and Ron Cephas Jones are only the most memorable); and, dare I say it, coolest villains (I shouldn’t have been sympathizing with Bushmaster (Mustafa Shakir) by the end, but I couldn’t help it). And Mike Colter as the titular Luke Cage played a reluctant superhero, well, as realistically as one can. 

In fairness, something like this could give anyone an inflated ego.

If Season One was all about Luke’s origins as a hero, then Season Two was about how close the line between savior and sinner can be. Honestly, by the second episode I wanted to slap Luke. No, dude, don’t get in your long-suffering girlfriend’s face (Dawson as Claire Temple) when she tells you to chill out and then don’t prove her point by punching your fist through a wall. The defining character trait of any villain is that they see themself as a victim who doesn’t have a choice, and Season Two made you squirm through every episode as Luke used that excuse again and again. When Season Two ended a la The Godfather, it made perfect sense even if you hated it.

But that’s not to say that there wasn’t A LOT to love in Season Two. Misty Knight (Missick) is a smart cop back from a maiming who’s aware enough to see when she’s in danger of falling over herself, but the real standout, in my opinion, was Priscilla Ridley (Pittman), the cool as ice police captain who forced Misty to be a better cop. Woodard was amazing as Mariah Dillard, the councilwoman who just couldn’t run far enough away from her own demons, and Theo Rossi was sometimes hypnotic as the amoral Shades Alvarez who finally remembered that he had a conscience. All of them were enough to make you want to watch Season Three, even if Luke had sold his soul to the devil.

(And then there’s the continuing bit about “getting coffee”. The look on Luke’s face when crime boss Rosalie Carbone (Annabella Sciorra) advised Luke that he didn’t like espresso because he’d never had it made right is reason enough to watch the show.)

But if I give Luke Cage an A, Hugo- and Peabody award winning Jessica Jones gets an A+.

Jessica Jones (Krysten Ritter) is a hero, period. She’s snarky, alcoholic, bitter, and self-loathing, but at the end she’s too intrinsically good not to help when someone genuinely needs her. In Season One, she knew that Kilgrave (David Tennant), the creepy supervillain who kept her in a psychic prison months before, was toying with her when he dangled his latest victim in front of her, but her instincts to help the otherwise helpless drowned out those of self-preservation. Similarly, when Oscar (J. R. Ramirez), her building’s super tried to kick her out of her apartment in Season Two for, basically, having superpowers, that didn’t stop her from saving his son when he was about to fall out of a window. She is, underneath the tough skin she assumed as a result of her psychic torture and rape, extremely sympathetic, no matter how imperfect someone may be. Lawyer-shark Jeri Hogarth (Carrie-Anne Moss) set Kilgrave loose on Jessica in Season One, but when she realized that Jeri was being set up by con artists pretending to have healing powers, Jessica stepped in to warn her; even if Jeri didn’t deserve to be trusted, she also didn’t deserve to be screwed.

Wary, just out of a fight, and ready for some more: classic Jessica Jones.

Unlike Luke Cage, Jessica doesn’t need or particularly want accolades for being helpful. In fact, she’s more likely to be alone and persecuted for just that. Still, when she’s at her lowest (and usually stinking drunk), her impulse is to help. After being thrown out of a bar for being too rowdy and then being told by a homeless man that she smelled, said man asked if she had any money. Instead of being insulted, she gave him the only thing she had: a coupon to a sandwich shop. That, right there, is the real Jessica Jones.

Season Two ended with Jessica both more alone and more hopeful than she’d been before. The fate of her family finally revealed, she had a chance to say goodbye to her mother and ended the codependent and increasingly toxic relationships she’d fallen into with both her foster sister Trish (Rachael Taylor) and former employee Malcolm (Eka Darville). But concluding those relationships left her space to begin a healthy romance with Oscar and have a chance at a normal life. Of course, we know that’s not going to last, as the final shot of Trish shows her with the superpowers she’s been so desperate for since she met Jessica. We know that’s not going to go well, and we know Jessica is bound to be sucked in.

Having said all of that, I have no idea what’s going on with this franchise.

I was not surprised that Iron Fist was canceled until I read that the second season was better received by critics and audiences alike. Initial buzz was that it might be a candidate for the new Disney streaming service (oh good, ANOTHER one). But then came the news last weekend that Luke Cage had been canceled. Um, what?! Much as I sneered at the character on screen for Season Two, the story made sense—and it was good. And, I hear, it was so popular on its first weekend that it crashed Netflix’s servers. Theories abound as to what happened, but it seems that “creative differences” plus increasingly unrealistic financial expectations exploded last week, and Netflix has judged that they don’t need Marvel anymore. Probably they don’t.

There’s the interesting possibility that Iron Fist and Luke Cage are going to be paired, just as they were in the comics...but, yeah, I don’t know. As good as Luke Cage was on screen, in my opinion, they messed with some of the DNA that makes their comics so interesting. While on television Danny and Colleen are an item and Luke was briefly paired with Misty, in the comics MISTY is Danny’s very serious girlfriend and Luke ends up married to Jessica Jones and raising a daughter with her. (The characters had an ill-father fling in Season One of Jessica Jones, but that was complicated by the fact that Jessica had killed his wife while under Kilgrave’s thrall.) Oh yeah, in the comics Misty and Colleen are also a crime fighting duo of their own who call themselves Daughters of the Dragon.

Do we want to guess why Netflix/Disney/Marvel decided to shift those pairings? (Let me know if you need me to spell it out.) And if they decided to do a course correction, while Misty had great (albeit weird) chemistry with Ward, there is absolutely none with Danny. And while I thought Colleen and Misty had some potential in Season Two of Luke Cage, by the time I was done with Season Two of Iron Fist I was hoping that they’d minimize the amount of time Misty was on so they wouldn’t ruin her character any further. It’s the writing, people, it is always the writing.

Having said that, when Danny made a cameo appearance in Season Two of Luke Cage, I, along with many other viewers, felt like finally the character had some potential. He and Luke have solid chemistry, and when the writing is there, Jones does a good job. So, with some reservations, this might be able to work, but they’re going to have to do a good deal of futzing first. 

Whew! Thanks so much to Kerrie, Morgan, and Caroline for a fun week of options to fill your non-existent free time with. Thanks to everyone who read, and please let us know what you think we should be binging on.

Worth the Binge! Blog Hop - the K-drama edition

When Caroline Fardig asked what our next blog hop should be, I immediately thought of Netflix binging, because oh my, I’ve been binging shows on that platform a lot lately. I mentioned that my stints in the hospital made me reevaluate my stance against screen time. (Honestly, it is much easier to watch an engrossing story than to read it when you’re somewhat disoriented.) One of my happy discoveries was that, after a few years of shunning Korean dramas, many of the ones offered on Netflix are really good, and totally worth a few hours of my time (or, you know, half a day, or maybe an entire weekend).

K-dramas succeed for the same reason that British dramas do: limitations of time prevent them from getting too greedy and force them to keep the story tighter than some bloated American dramas that want to milk as many seasons, episodes, and syndication fees as possible. (I don’t even watch The Walking Dead, and after eight seasons I’m sick of it.) Which isn’t to say that some dramas don’t drag on longer than they need to (if something goes over sixteen episodes, be suspicious), but in general the story ends on a satisfying if not always perfect note.

I’ve watched numerous dramas in less than six months, and I originally started this post with the intention of going into all of them. But once that draft started hovering around 3000 words and I wasn’t quite done, I decided to focus on four: Stranger (aka Secret Forest), Life, Mr. Sunshine, and White Nights aka Night Light.

Stranger wasn’t the first Korean drama I watched, but the second. More importantly, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen on television and a new standard I measure all shows by, not just the Korean ones. It might be simplest to think of this as (yet another) updated version of Sherlock Holmes, with Cho Seung-woo’s Prosecutor Hwang Shi-mok as the (literally) emotionally scarred Holmes and Bae Doona’s Lieutenant Han Yeo-jin as the warmer John Watson. And if that’s what gets you there, fine, but it’s sooo much more. It’s an intricately plotted mystery that was planned in order to expose the corruption (I mean, no kidding, it’s Korean entertainment) that includes the police, the prosecutor’s office, the ministry, and, of course, the CEO of a powerful chaebol (conglomerate). You won’t really know what you’re looking at until Episode Four, but by then you’re already going to be sucked in by the characters, including Deputy Chief Prosecutor Lee Chang-joon (Yoo Jae-myung), sleazeball prosecutor Seo Dong-jae (Lee Joon-hyuk), ambitious prosecutor Young Eun-soo (Shin Hye-sun), and inspector Yoon Se-won (Lee Kyu-hyung). When you find out exactly who did what and why, you’re not going to feel any better when they catch the culprit. (I don’t think I’ve ever cried during a confession before.) But it’s the chemistry between Cho and Bae that’s going to find you binging as many episodes of this per day as you can and asking yourself will they/won’t they/should they?

Most of the main characters from Stranger (and oh my god is there going to be a season 2?!)

Everyone on the planet has probably heard of Descendants of the Sun, an internationally successful juggernaut that may have made the viewing public take K-dramas seriously. This year, the same team brought us Mr. Sunshine. (Unlike many other Korean dramas, that really is the original title. You won’t find out why it’s named that until halfway through the series, but I’ll preview that you’ll be tearing up when you get to that moment.) I admit to being more than a little indignant to read people hoping for a “happy ending” while they watched this, because the subject matter is the beginning of the end of the Korean kingdom/empire aka Choson as the Japanese tightened their grip and turned it into a colony. While this was criticized by some for being too charitable to the Americans and demonizing the Japanese, as someone who has read much about this period, I thought it did a good job of showing all sides. You shouldn’t thank the Japanese occupiers for anything they did—but it’s worth noting that they were the ones who forced Choson to outlaw slavery. And while most former Korean slaves still led lives of desperate poverty, it was no longer legal to murder and discard them. As Eugene Choi/Choi Yu-jin (Lee Byung-hyun), the son of slaves who became an American Marine captain, told his friend Gu Dong-mae (Yoo Yeon-seok), the son of butchers who became a Yakuza samurai, they may live in treacherous times, but they, unlike their parents, have choices. Would that have been possible without the Japanese occupation? Eventually. By 1894? Probably not.

Just some of the motley assortment of people fighting for Korean independence in Mr. Sunshine

As with, oh, history in general, it would be a mistake to think that this is just a story about the Japanese versus the Koreans. As to be expected from an ancient civilization, Korean society was both deeply complicated and deeply flawed. People had many reasons for fighting for independence with qualifications, just as they did for collaborating with the Japanese. This is is not to excuse the atrocities or to say that there weren’t ever clearcut victims and villains, but in most cases, choices were messier than we might think looking back, and Mr. Sunshine explored that.

While the series was long (24 episodes in total), I didn’t feel like any of the time was wasted. The story follows both Eugene and Go Ae-shin (Kim Tae-ri), the young aristocrat he falls in love with who leads a secret life as a sniper for the Righteous Army. Other main characters include Gu Dong-mae, Kim Hee-sung (Byun Yo-han), the wealthy young man whose grandfather owned and killed Eugene’s parents, and Lee Yang-hwa/Hina Kudo (Kim Min-jung), the wealthy daughter of a traitor to Japan who owns a hotel and despises her father. All of the men share an affection for Ae-shin and, frankly, have nothing else in common. However, the three develop a friendship that transcends class and history as they all come to the conclusion that Choson, for all its faults, deserves its independence. Similarly, while Ae-shin and Yang-hwa begin their interactions with a barely concealed contempt for each other, in the end they both earn the other’s respect by be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to preserve the country they love.

This ends in 1919 and I don’t think I’m giving anything away to say that few of the characters are left standing at the end. If anything, the “happy ending” is that Korean resistance continued up to that day and right through 1945.

Anyway.

Does everything look lighter after that? Perhaps, but that’s not to say that others didn’t deliver the same kind of sucker punch of desperation after betrayal. White Nights aka Night Light (I have no idea why these names are chosen, I swear) stands out from most of the K-dramas I’ve watched because the two main characters are women. Not only that, Seo Yi-kyung (Lee Yo-wan) is a corporate shark and Lee Se-jin (Uee) is a con woman desperate to learn at Yi-kyung’s feet and become a success like her. Yi-kyung’s motivations are complicated: her father was deeply betrayed by his fellow organizers of the Korean-Japanese Olympics in 1988, but she later falls in love with the son of one of those organizers, Park Gun-wook (Jin Goo of Descendants of the Sun fame). Once out on her own, she begins her career as a gallery owner who follows a twisty (and twisted) plan to slowly take over South Korean business and control the office of the presidency itself, which just happens to involve the former president who also betrayed her father. Se-jin is willing to help her until she sees the moral toll this costs the both of them. I loved watching two brilliant women maintain their affection for each other even as they tried to outwit the other. If anything, the conflict deepened their respect for the other.

An earnest con woman, a ruthless shark, and a wishy-washy chaebol heir walk into a television show...

The final K-drama I’ll mention is the one I most recently completed. Life (that, too, is the original Korean title. Don’t ask why, because it’s not like there isn’t a Korean word for “life”) centers around the staff at a teaching hospital of a university that’s recently been acquired by a chaebol. It’s easy early on to side with the doctors versus the corporation at the beginning, especially when President Koo Seong-hyo (Cho Seung-woo) orders the hospital to shut down the emergency, maternity, and pediatric departments because they aren’t profitable. A threat of a strike causes the Seong-hyo to back down, but shortly after he discovers that the doctors hid a death due to negligence. The president has the moral upper hand until he makes the truth public...and on the back-and-forth goes. We quickly discover, however, that as much as the president wants to turn the hospital into a money maker, he’s the best protection the staff has against the chaebol chairman Jo Nam-hyeong (Jung Moon-sung), who’s willing to destroy the hospital if it won’t become profitable for him.

The most chilling part of the show: these are the people responsible for our health care

It won’t take much for American audiences to recognize the many quandaries that arise when healthcare is seen as a business, just as many of us will sympathize with the argument “big business” makes that they can provide a level of oversight a chummy clique of doctors is unwilling to impose on itself. It’s messy, and no one comes out looking perfectly right, just as in life.

I must mention here that I wanted to watch this was not only for Cho Seung-woo but also for Lee Kyu-hyung. I didn’t think the actor could break my heart any more than he had in Stranger, but I spent 20 minutes of the last episode with tears streaming down my face as I watched him in his final scenes as the paraplegic orthopedist/health administrator Ye Seon-woo. I’ll watch this guy read the proverbial phone book and probably need tissues while I do so.

Lee Kyu-hyung, a rising star

A shout out must also be given to veteran actress Moon So-ri, who played the tough as nails Neurosurgery department head Oh Se-hwa. God damn...not to give anything away, but when she tells a corporate bully that she knows fifty ways to kill someone without leaving a trace and that he’d better take his son’s pictures off of social media, you’re going to clap.

Moon So-ri, a versatile, veteran bad ass 

I feel bad not having given explored the other K-dramas and comedies I’ve watched and loved over the past few months, but here’s a list of other dramas I hope you also decide to explore.

Descendants of the Sun

Bad Guys 1

Bad Guys 2

Strong Girl Bong-soon

This is My Love

Man 2 Man

The Prison Playbook

Live (not to be confused with Life!)

Secret Healer

And that is that! Thanks for reading, and be sure to check out Kerrie’s post tomorrow, followed by Morgan, Caroline, and then me again (I have thoughts and feelings about the Marvel shows!).

House of Cards, or Let Things Go Out With Dignity

In 1994, I was watching PBS when a commercial for a rerun of House of Cards came up. Ian Richardson threw Susannah Harker off of the roof of the building while she screamed "Daddy!". I thought it was pretty dark as PBS went, and didn't really want to watch, but the image stayed with me. I learned later Ian Richardson's character went on to become Prime Minister. Not my cup of tea at the time.

Fast forward 19 years later: no one can stop talking about Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright in Netflix's version of House of Cards for the American political scene. I'd grown decidedly more cynical in the ensuing years, and the description sounded good enough that I finally gave Netflix a chance (I'm an extremely late adopter). Before my husband and I committed, though, we finally watched the original on YouTube. There were in fact three seasons: House of Cards, To Play The King and The Final Cut. Each of them had four episodes, and I seem to remember that my husband and I got all of that watched in two days. (Shh, don't tell the kids.) We were blown away.

We were equally impressed by the first two seasons of the American show, which tracked pretty closely to the British version (more below). This year, we eagerly anticipated what we assumed would be the final season of the American show...and we were very disappointed. Here's why:

In the original House of Cards, Francis Urquhart is the patrician (not just Conservative) Chief Whip who was a party loyalist and expected to be rewarded by the new Prime Minister with a Cabinet Post. He's insulted when he's told instead that he needs to stay in his current position. He then embarks on a scheme that would make Iago jealous: he manipulates weaker journalists, lobbyists and politicians to not only unseat the Prime Minister but to get himself elected in his place. He is willing to resort to murder, not once but twice, including the young journalist Mattie Storin who became his smitten mistress- at the suggestion of his wife Elizabeth! (Oh, and why was she calling him Daddy as he threw her to her death? Because that turned her on.) His aide Tim Stamper helps him manipulate his other victims, but it's Urquhart who pulls the proverbial triggers. And it works. The viewer is left with a horrible taste of what goes on behind the scenes and the sociopaths who are willing to do it.

Ian Richardson as the calculating, deadly MP- and then PM- Francis Urquhart

In To Play The King, Urquhart finds himself at odds with the liberal and idealistic new king, played by Michael Kitchen. While the monarchy doesn't hold any real power, it is perfectly capable of moving public opinion against the Prime Minister and his party, and Urquhart won't have that. By the end of the series, Michael Kitchen is forced to abdicate in favor of his young son (and regented by his mother, the divorced wife of the king). Was this a play to take on the monarchy itself? Not at all. As Urquhart points out, his family marched down from Scotland in the 17th century to protect the crown when no one had ever heard of the present royal family. This, he assured the soon-to-be-abdicated king, was entirely personal. But some chinks in Urquhart's armor are beginning to show: he has to kill both his newest mistress (also picked out by his wife!) when she gets too close to the truth about what happened to Mattie and then Stamper when he decides he's tired of living in Urquhart's shadow. Urquhart is secure for now, but has he bitten off more than he can chew?

Diane Fletcher as Elizabeth Urquhart, ruthless to the end

In The Final Cut, the answer to that question is clearly "yes". Urquhart may be able to manipulate his own country, but foreign policy is not so easily controlled. Even worse, he has some significant skeletons in his closet from his time in the military: he killed two unarmed men while serving in Cyprus. Against all of this is his desire to secure his legacy and exceed Thatcher's term in office. As he feels younger politicians nipping at his heels, his wife Elizabeth assures him that she's got a plan in place to secure his legacy. Urquhart doesn't realize what her plan is until too late: she has him assassinated during the dedication of his monument. That, she tearfully tells him as he takes his last breath, was the only way that his memory could go untarnished. A satisfying ending to a series that made your jaw drop in every other scene.

Susannah Harker as Mattie Storin, one of the first bodies Urquhart needed to bury

The American House of Cards replaced the To The Manor Born Urquhart with a more Clintonesque Frank Underwood (only his wife Claire calls him Francis): he was born poor, but he was always intelligent and scheming. In the first season all he wanted was to be Secretary of State, but losing that appointment brought out a ruthlessness that ended up causing the death of a weak Representative and the ruin of his young mistress, Zoe. But when the dust had settled, Frank was the Vice President- this much closer to being able to oust the president.

Kevin Spacey as Frank Underwood. Whereas Urquhart was a master of subtlety, Underwood hides behind the confusion he creates

During the second season, he does just that, ably assisted by his wife, who lies about being impregnated by a man who's now a high ranking general (but she didn't lie about being raped) and then worms her way into the First Lady's inner circle and exploits the weaknesses in the First Marriage. The President, no fool, begins to understand just as Underwood has isolated him that he is the author of all of his problems, but ends up turning back to him just as everything falls apart and he decides to resign. Thus, Underwood, who has never won a national election, is now the President of the United States. Oh, and Zoe? She made it a little further than Mattie, but by the end of the first episode Frank's killed her; by the middle of the season he's made it impossible for her friends in the press corps to dig up anything on him. So what could possibly take him down? His chief of staff's obsession with a young prostitute who helped bring down the Representative in Season One, and, just maybe, the cracks in Claire's resolve.

Robin Wright as Claire Underwood. Can't you just hear her muttering "Out, out, damned spot!"?

So what happens in Season Three? As in the original, Frank finds that foreign affairs are much harder to manipulate than domestic ones, and the fact that his inexperienced wife is helming negotiations at the UN isn't a plus. On top of that, there's a general election to gear up for, and Underwood is informed that the party leadership doesn't want him to run. His solution: an end run around Congressional authority to begin an ambitious jobs program that will be piloted in D.C. by siphoning money off from...FEMA. When the inevitable storm is due to hit, Frank blinks (he may be a sociopath, but he can make political calculations better than anyone else)...and then realizes he shouldn't have: the storm turns before it can do any damage to the US. But now Frank has the goods to run on, and he's more than ready to take on the well-placed former Solicitor General, Heather Dunbar, with the covert aid of the Assistant Whip whom he's promised the Vice Presidency to, Jackie Sharp. But Jackie, a veteran whom we know has had a major crisis of conscience before, can stomach only so much, and she throws her support to Dunbar. It's a close race in Iowa, but ultimately Underwood pulls out a victory just as marriage to Claire is coming apart. As he leaves for New Hampshire, Claire walks out on him...and so ends Season Three.

Michael Kelly as Doug Stamper. Whereas Tim Stamper's relationship with Urquhart was undone by his ambitions, Doug almost lost everything over his human frailties. Don't worry- he got past that.

Oh, okay.

To say I was disappointed doesn't fully cover it. House of Cards is REALLY good, and it's rightfully credited with having revived Netflix after their PR fiascoes. But after 39 episodes of watching increasingly unlikeable people (however complex) do bizarre things, I'm sort of done.

I'm also sad to say that the writing didn't hold up as well this last season as it did in the other two (maybe the writers are done too). Really, the Russian President would get to terms SO QUICKLY about both troops in the Jordan Valley AND the release of an American prisoner? And they would be negotiating themselves- without aides? REALLY? Obviously, then, we need to throw Putin and Obama into a bunker for a few weeks and see what they come up with. But wait! What about Michelle? Because after those two hammered out everything, an overwrought Claire- the one who is usually calm and controlled- ruined everything...at a press conference.

The character of Claire was my biggest problem with the season. Everyone always says "Lady Macbeth" when they see an ambitious wife, but they meant it with Claire. And that irritates me. Lady Macbeth is easy to write, in part because it's been done so much: Woman gets a taste of the possibility of power she can get through her husband, then pushes her husband to get it, regardless of what literal or figurative bloodiness she'll need to indulge to help him. She does unspeakable things but blindly pushes on until her conscience finally destroys her. And her husband, who's been using her as a psychic crutch, crumbles now that she isn't there anymore.

Some hope...Elizabeth Marvel as Solicitor General Heather Dunbar...

Other than laziness, the reason this gets me in this story is that Elizabeth Urquhart as played by Diane Fletcher is, if anything, the anti-Lady Macbeth. She blithely makes suggestions to further his interests and even helps him commit murder at one point. However, she never shows any signs of remorse; while that may make her more of a sociopath, she's frankly more interesting than the woman who walks around with a fist in her stomach. She is like any other advisor, only she happens to be a woman. And in the end she doesn't have her husband murdered to appease her conscience but to save him, at least in the way that ultimately matters to him.

...Molly Parker as veteran and Assistant Whip Jackie Sharp...

As disappointing as the main female character was, I did enjoy watching both Heather Dunbar (Elizabeth Marvel) and Jackie Sharp (Molly Parker), and the Do Not Screw With Me bureau chief Kate Baldwin (Kim Dickens) made me smile every time she was onscreen. These were all competent, complicated, ambitious women, some more conflicted than others, but overall dedicated to catching their brass rings. Maybe Netflix can do spin off series on these three if it's going to be extra special greedy?

...and Kim Dickens as Bureau Chief Kate Baldwin

The original House of Cards had an undercurrent of humor in it's otherwise very dark tale of politics and ambition; I'm afraid the same can't be said for it's American counterpart, and that's a shame when it's so much longer. If it looks like this thing is going to be resolved in Season 4, let me know, but even then...well, I'm done anyway.