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“Jessica Jones” recap (1.02): Unbreakable, they’re alive, dammit

Previously on Jessica Jones: We met Jessica Jones, who is strong and drinks strong drinks. We met Luke Cage, who is strong and pours strong drinks. We met Jeri Hogarth, who is s strong and strongly likes other women. We met Trish Walker, who is strong and I would strongly like her to make out with Jessica.

So now that we’ve gotten through the requisite get-to-know-yous, necessary narrative exposition and obligatory hero moment, Jessica Jones can get down to its real and really extraordinary business—and that business is making an entire series based around the concept of consent. This is something truly different in the world of superhero stories; a story that deals with rape and PTSD and stalking. It is deeply personal and it is terrifyingly intimate.

Some of you may have already binged this thing whole and know exactly what I am talking about. Some of you are mid-binge, and in the midst of realizing this. A few might be considering whether to press ahead. Let me be clear: PRESS AHEAD. This is a show that effortlessly passes the Bechdel Test. This is a show with strong female heroes who fight and fuck and have no use for spandex costumes (not that there’s anything wrong with Supergirl, just different). This is a show worth your time.

What’s not worth Jessica’s time, however, is the interrogation she is getting at the police department. A detective is grilling her about Hope shooting her parents. There’s tense discussion of antiques and the ease with which one can buy a gun at Walmart.

The detective pulls out some photos of Luke, which they found in Jessica’s apartment. She does not take kindly to the warrant-less invasion of her private investigating property and leaves. She heads directly to Luke’s where some cops are already questioning him. Well, so much for the zipless fuck.

Jessica pauses for a moment, thinking whether to cut and run. She begrudgingly does the hard but right thing, which is a recurring theme with her. She goes in to see Luke after the cops leave and he is none to pleased, especially because now he knows she was taking pictures of him. She claims it was for a job, but he tells her to GTFO regardless. So I guess she wasn’t kidding about that no second dates thing.

Next, alone in her bathroom, Jessica gives a dour voiceover about being alone while a lone cockroach climbs up the wall. Is this a metaphor, show? Are you trying to say something about the sad, possibly gross, though always resilient nature of singlehood? Oh, wait, now in a Kafka-esque turn is the roach a stand-in for Kilgrave? Like a spin on that old joke, saying all that will be left after a nuclear apocalypse will be roaches and Kilgrave? Jessica flicks the offending insect off her wall and into the sink, but then just watches passively as it crawls down into the darkness of the drain. I just went in way too deep on a scene with a cockroach, didn’t I?

Jessica next goes to another dark place—prison. She visits Hope to get more intel on Kilgrave, since she was the last one to see him. But Hope is unresponsive, because you’d be unresponsive if you were just made to murder your parents. The one thing she does say is how Kilgrave used to make her jump for hours. It was her event in track and she is the second-best in the state of Iowa. But she still wasn’t as good as Jessica.

Hope also blames Jessica for what happened, because she didn’t check to make sure Kilgrave was dead. So now he wants to make her suffer like he suffered. Look, I want to be sympathetic towards Hope, because she was mind-controlled into violently offing her folks and all that other stuff, but when she suggests Jessica should kill herself, it’s a little hard to worry about her rotting in jail. I know, I know—don’t blame the victim. And I don’t, nor does Jessica. But she does remind Hope to maybe go a little easy on her since she is the only one who knows she is innocent—and also a victim.

Last we see of Hope a nurse is giving her meds, while somewhere in a very nice office suite Jeri Hogarth is taking some sort of meds of her own. Maybe it’s an ibuprofen to counteract the aches of having a much younger, and illicit, girlfriend? Jessica is imploring her to take Hope’s case, but Jeri won’t because of some very complicated legal jargon (a.k.a. it’s a loser).

Jeri suggests Jessica relax and get a massage. In between Pam, the assistant/neck kisser, pops her head in to say, rather pointedly, I might add, that Jeri’s wife is on the phone. And later she again urges Jeri to talk with her wife, because she knows. I mean, I think that’s what she said. I was a tiny bit distracted. How does Jeri get any work done with those girls just hanging around?

But Jessica insists that Jeri take her case, and that she can prove Kilgrave and his mind control are responsible. Our power attorney still isn’t convinced, until Jessica sweetens the pot by saying she will owe her one favor.

I’d like to direct you to where Jeri’s eyes go when Jessica makes her this offer.

Trish finds Jessica (sorta stalks, but in a friendship way) and pops out of her car to confront her about not answering her texts. Girl, we’ve all been there. Jessica uses the “my phone died” routine, but in her case might really be true. Trish steps toward Jessica, having seen all that transpired since she was going to take Trish’s money and leave town, and now says she is scared for her. Jessica says, exasperatedly, “Don’t have feelings, OK?”

Ha. Only two episodes in and I already know that is the most Jessica Jones thing Jessica Jones could say. Trish says it’s “Not OK,” and my shipper senses instantly transform BFF Feelings into Big Lesbian Feelings because that’s how my brain rolls. But I don’t really need to fudge the emotions that much, because Trish responds with, “So that’s it?” as Jessica starts to walk away.

So Jess takes her back to her place with its broken door (I shall call it Carl—like “Get in the house, Carl.” Or, in this case, “Stay on the doorframe, Carl.”) Trish is less than impressed by Jess’s new digs (Jess can tell by her tone—classic girlfriend move). Then she suggests Jessica move in with her “again.” And they used to live together? Were they roommates or “roommates?”

But Jessica says it doesn’t matter because even with Trish’s doorman and security system and lack of a Carl, she isn’t safe. No place is safe; no one is safe. Not even a talk show host who “was” her best friend. Now Trish feels the tone, and spits back “Was?”

Jessica calls herself “life-threatening” and tells Trish to stay away from her. When Trish refuses, Jess practically begs, “Please, I can’t risk you.” And there you have it: Trish is the most important person in Jessica’s life and she would rather be alone than without her at all.

Before she leaves Jessica tells Trish her Carl used to have “Alias Investigations” on it and everything. Trish says she likes it, and there is no tone. And for the briefest of moments, Jessica almost smiles.

So now it’s time to get down to the business of tracking Kilgrave. Jessica searches through files on a bus accident in Hell’s Kitchen that killed someone named Reva Connors. Hey, is she the smiling lady from Luke’s bathroom cabinet? But she gets interrupted by the feuding upstairs neighbors. They’re arguing about French chicken and Jessica tells them in no uncertain terms to stuff it and shut up. What can I say? She is the kind of person who talks with her hands.

We flash back to the evening of the accident in question. Someone with an English accent is yelling at Jessica to come back and do as she is told. But she stumbles away with blood on her hands, then a bus comes and flips into the man with an English accent. Now, back at the site of the accident, she begins to investigate.

Being the resourceful girl that she is she finds the nearest hospital. She busts into the nurses’ lockers—one with pictures of nearly a dozen cats inside which causes Jessica to recoil and all the lesbians watching to coo—and steals a key card. Then she poses as an employee (in pink, heart-covered scrubs) to search for Kilgrave in the hospital records, but he isn’t in them; just Reva and the bus driver. Also, nice use of Seattle Grace as a cover, Jess.

On the way back to her apartment, Jessica notices blood stains still on the elevator ceiling. Guess low-rent apartments don’t sprint for the best crime scene clean-up teams. But then as she heads towards Carl, she hears noises inside. So, naturally, she attacks the guy inside while screaming, “Who sent you!?!”

Trish did, to fix Carl. But now the handyman needs fixing. Trish and Jess have a talk about boundaries next, what is acceptable and unacceptable interference in the give-and-take of their relationship. You know, classic lesbian processing. But then Jessica lands her own low blow, comparing Trish to her mother. We don’t know why this is bad yet, but—ooooh, doggy—is it bad. Look, ladies, all of this wouldn’t be an issue if only Trish texted instead of left voicemails. Who leaves voicemails?

While they’re processing, Trish’s assistant suggests she cover up when her next guest comes in. But it’s not out of some outdated sense of puritanical decency, it’s to cover all the bruising on her arms. Hmmm, interesting. Trish doesn’t strike me as a battered woman,not with those guns—so let’s see where this thing goes.

As Jessica watches the handyman get wheeled off on a stretcher, Creepy Upstairs Neighbor Guy appears behind her and confirms he is even creepier than we previously thought. All those lovers’ quarrels we overheard them having were actually siblings’ quarrels. They’re twins—creepy twins.

But Jessica doesn’t have much room to judge on the creepy front. While on the subway she looks around suspiciously and then has PTSD-induced daymare and smashes the window defensively. Hey, but at least no one will want to sit next to her. That’s just smart subway strategy, that’s all.

The trail leads Jessica to one of the ambulance drivers the night of the accident. Two were dispatched and only one came back—the other was driven off mysteriously. Jess goes to visit that driver, who is now partially paralyzed from a stroke after “donating” both his kidneys and living with his loony overly-religious mom. He manages to scribble a note to Jessica before he leaves which says, “Kill me.” Pathos, this show has it.

Jessica runs into the Creepy Twins again (Creepy Twin Girl calls her a cougar), but they’re just one of the many complications at her doorstep. The married woman she photographed with Luke shows up as well, claiming her husband didn’t hire her after all. So Jessica was just freelancing—people can have hobbies. Jess kindly reminds her that it’s called “private investigations” for a reason. But the woman tells her it’s her fault Luke is about to be beat up by her husband and his rugby buddies.

Jessica rushes over and finds overly inflated male egos at work. Luke swats them away like so many flies, and Jess jumps in to help. No better cardio like beating down unwanted testosterone flare-ups.

Luke notices the ease with which Jess is tossing around these dudes with confusion and interest, but just then, the husband legitimately tries to stab him in the neck with a broken beer bottle. Whoa, there’s roughing up your wife’s sidepiece and then there’s attempted murder. But the glass just crumples at Luke’s neck anyway. So looks like both of them have some ‘splaining to do.

The next morning Jessica wakes up to her phone ringing and charging. Can I just say how refreshing it is to have a show that finally acknowledges the limited nature of iPhone batteries and the need for Apple to ship them with longer charging cables? Her research has unearthed who sent the paralyzed bus driver his expensive dialysis machine.

The mystery donor turns out to be a college professor who bolts at the sight of Jessica. She catches up to him in the basement. He used to be the area’s premiere transplant surgeon, but how he is hiding. Kilgrave made him transplant the bus driver’s kidneys. Kilgrave lost one in the accident, but wanted both even though he could survive on the remaining one. The professor does give one invaluable tidbit: Kilgrave insisted he do the surgeries with only topical anesthesia—no knockout drugs. So there you have it, finally some Kryptonite. Jess calls Jeri to have him relay his story as well. Well, now we’re getting somewhere.

Jeri goes to visit Hope in jail, so I guess she was convinced enough to represent her. She has Hope walk her through what happened, but then also learns her own valuable bit of information: Jessica was once Kilgrave’s victim, too.

I want to believe Jeri will turn out to be a good person, but I so fear that with that power lesbian haircut and suiting, she is destined to be morally ambiguous at best. But, still, great hair.

Jessica returns home and notices the new glass for Carl, emblazoned with her “Alias Investigations” logo. She allows herself the second small smile of this episode. If you’re keeping score at home, both of those smiles were brought on by Trish. Yep, time to give them an official portmanteau.

Jess calls Trish to kiss and make up. Trish assures Jessica she doesn’t need protecting. Jessica agrees to stop shutting her out and asks if they can go grab a drink. But Trish is in the midst of a workout. Jess ribs her about yoga just being stretching. Then Trish’s nose begins to bleed and I immediately flash to brain cancer because I’ve watched too many Lifetime movies.

But, don’t worry: It wasn’t an incurable mystery illness. It was her workout routine which also has been covering her with the bruises. Trish Walker will fear no man, armed or not.

But then, how do you defend against a bad guy whose voice is his weapon? Kilgrave surfaces—for the first time not in flashback—and commandeers a family’s apartment with a few words. He makes the family’s children wet themselves in a closet and then sits down to dinner.

In her apartment, Jessica brushes her teeth and admits, in voiceover, that her greatest weakness is occasionally giving a damn. But then that fucking roach crawls back up from the depths, and she crushes it with her bare thumb. Yep, the roach is definitely Kilgrave in this metaphor—also super gross.

So we think it’s over, roach metaphor complete, mission stated. But then Luke slinks out of a dark corner as well. He has a table saw with him, which is an odd hostess gift. Most people just bring a nice bottle of red. He tells her he saw her powers, then shows her his—with the table saw.

He has unbreakable skin. OK, dammit, now I have the Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt theme song stuck in my head again. I just got it out.

Find more from Dorothy Snarker visit dorothysurrenders.com or @dorothysnarker.

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