Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. is a splendid TV series, based on the first two episodes. Just as the iPod was the “most Apple” thing ever according to Steve Jobs, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. is the most Marvel thing ever, utilizing Marvel’s super-powered storytelling virtues without featuring anyone with, well, super powers.
Old fashioned entertainment in über contemporary clothes, Marvel’s first major live-action series since The Incredible Hulk reflects Stan Lee’s titanium touch and Joss Whedon’s deft direction. A freshly sexy cast is the cherry atop this richly combustable cake. Kids these days don’t know how good they’ve got it.
Street-wise in a highly polished way, it toys with tech that channels everything from Wikileaks to drones.
Dares to place a central character in a hoodie. Did I mention he’s a young black man? The hoodie hero takes a bad turn even. Then Whedon and Company have him deliver a plaintive complaint that sounds like the song of credulous Obamaholics. That’s bravura TV.
The show also dares to have S.H.I.E.L.D. embrace their inner NSA-ness, hell, their outer NSA-ness too.
The team gels and breaks out more cool stuff, most of all their bitching 6-engine black Globemaster jet.
The show’s drill is now clear. A startling opening scene gets followed by a flashback that leads up to it. The storylines converge at the ¾ mark, leaving ten minutes for a thrilling conclusion that gently tees up the next episode.
The sexy team gets to strut their stuff some more, though revealing outfits must wait for future episodes. Down boy.
This Wikileaks-inspired episode is better than The Fifth Estate can hope to be.
Clark Gregg long ago established Agent Phil Coulson as a dryly funny classic. He anchors every episode in drolly enjoyable fashion.
His Team of Agents
Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Director, makes the occasional cameo, always a high point.
TV Risqué
Less out-there than Marvel movies, though that’s a high bar.