Image via Disney
If you were to distill the MCU’s Phase 4 down to one theme, it’d be identity. So much of this post-Endgame reality is about old characters grappling with loss in the wake of a massive tragedy or new faces figuring out how to define themselves as they set out on a new path. So much of the MCU’s Disney+ output—WandaVision, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Hawkeye, and Ms. Marvel—fall into the latter half. The latest series, She-Hulk: Attorney at Law, follows suit, although its approach to accomplishing this Phase 4 goal is meant to carve out an inherently unique identity for itself as a 30-minute legal comedy in the style of Ally McBeal.
Created by Jessica Gao (the writer behind another famous green character: the “Pickle Rick” episode of Rick and Morty), She-Hulk sticks to the origins of her comic book counterpart. While traveling with her cousin, Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo), Jennifer Walters (Tatiana Maslany) gets into a car accident. In the resulting chaos, the two end up injured, and as Jen drags Bruce away from the wreckage, blood from Bruce’s wounds intermeshes with Jen’s open cuts. The resulting transfusion causes Jen to hulk out—but before she can cause any significant damage, Bruce snags her and begins to mentor her accordingly.
The training is for naught; when you’re repeatedly catcalled on the street or spoken down to at a meeting by a demeaning man, you learn to effectively regulate your anger. Jen thusly returns to Los Angeles to continue her legal career, but her life is only so normal when she’s a Hulk. Before long, she’s heading up a superhero law division at a glitzy firm—but not as Jennifer Walters. Instead, the firm wants the newly named “She-Hulk” to be the literal face of the practice.
The first two episodes of She-Hulk drag as they work to establish the dueling halves of Jen’s new life, but things click into sharp focus in the show’s third episode, where she takes on the parole of one Emil Blonsky, aka Abomination (Tim Roth) as her first big case. From there, the third and fourth episodes begin juggling minor cases that spotlight unseen parts of the MCU in entertaining ways. What would happen if a shape-shifting Asgardian dark elf pretended to be a celebrity and began findoming someone? If an untrained Kamar-Taj reject began using a sling ring as a trick at a magic show, what would that danger mean for the attendees?
She-Hulk is at its best when exploring the various juxtapositions of the MCU’s mundane humanity and the surreality of its superhero world. She-Hulk doesn’t shy away from the truth of the 30-something dating experience; if you’ve spent time listening to the women in your life speak about their awful first dates, you’ll quickly realize how authentic the series is in that regard. She-Hulk is pretty brazen—by MCU standards at least—in how it talks about sex and sexuality. It’s a refreshing change of pace from how sex-less Marvel often feels.
She-Hulk is less consistent in its humor. I found some of the jokes to be hit or miss and often not nearly as clever as the series believes them to be. Many of those revolve around the show’s fourth-wall-breaking moments, inspired by writer/artist John Byrne’s and Dan Slott/Juan Bobillo’s respective tenures on the She-Hulk comics. Fairly or unfairly, they’ll draw comparisons to Fleabag (a touchpoint directly invoked by the series’ creators), which is perhaps one of the best series to leverage that trope. Sadly, She-Hulk isn’t nearly as successful in executing its fourth-wall moments as that once-in-a-generation kind of show. Additionally, many of these beats are done in self-reflection of the show’s various cameos (more on those in a second) and end up ringing particularly hollow. It’s one thing to throw stones at a glass house, but She-Hulk’s attempt ends up feeling like a bouncy ball in a Vanderbilt mansion. Satirizing guest appearances on a Marvel show when they’re the very people that turned cameo reporting/speculation into a cottage industry feels a bit like trying to have their cake and eat it, too—and lands like a lead balloon accordingly.
I also can’t talk about She-Hulk without mentioning the CGI elephant in the room, which arrives on the heels of several explosive reports about Marvel’s poor treatment of VFX workers. Based on the VFX quality of the series, which fluctuates wildly from moment to moment, it does not appear the artists working on She-Hulk were given the time to render the character realistically. The issue is most apparent in the series premiere, initially intended to be the eighth episode of the season. As a result, the effects feel rushed, and you’ll likely be able to tell. While Gao, Maslany, and director Kat Coiro spoke in solidarity with the workers a few weeks ago, it’s high time for Marvel to give these workers the time and money needed to make these effects effective.
The series is expertly cast, however. Maslany is incredibly well-suited to the role, as her time on Orphan Black established her as one of our finest actors, capable of tackling all kinds of tonal shifts. Ruffalo makes the most of his (thankfully) short stint on the show—after all, it is Jen’s show—and has a knack for selling the Hulk’s tortured past and the newfound lease on life he’s found as Smart Hulk. Both Roth and Benedict Wong make strong impressions; the latter seems to revel at the chance to hit more of Wong’s comedic side. The fourth episode is a real standout for the actor, which involves an incredible running gag about a beloved HBO series.
She-Hulk: Attorney at Law might be born out of the Hulk’s past, but like Jennifer Walters, it’s still figuring out its own place in the MCU. There’s a good foundation here, but it needs a little tightening to hulk out into something special. If the series can continue to explore the intersection of humanity and heroics, I’m confident it’ll find an identity worthy of its lead character. But if not, the series might be headed for a mistrial.
She-Hulk: Attorney at Law streams weekly on Disney+ beginning on Aug. 18.
