Created by Dario Scardapane – Starring Charlie Cox, Vincent D’Onofrio, Deborah Ann Woll

This is a tough one for me to evaluate.

Not because Daredevil: Born Again is complicated, but because my relationship with Daredevil is.

As a comic book reader, Daredevil has been one of my favorites for a long time. I love the character. I also think Charlie Cox and Vincent D’Onofrio are perfect casting as Matt Murdock and Wilson Fisk. And because of that love for the character, I’m probably an unreliable narrator here.

Because if this wasn’t Daredevil, my reaction to some of this might be very different.

But it is Daredevil.

And I like this show. A lot.

My criticism isn’t coming from a place of thinking the show is bad. It’s coming from a place of believing the show still hasn’t fully reached its potential.

What season two does well, it does really well.

The action sequences are incredible. Brutal, violent, messy fights that feel physical in a way most superhero stories avoid. Some people will see the violence as excessive, but for me, it works because the show understands that violence leaves damage behind.

People don’t just shake it off.

Bones break. Faces bruise. Bodies fail.

And more importantly, those wounds usually reflect something happening internally.

Matt Murdock carries his trauma physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Fisk responds to loss and his crumbling control over the city with violent rage that leaves him bloody, isolated, and emotionally hollow. Karen Page’s scars shape who she’s becoming, pushing her toward accepting vigilantism as a necessity instead of a moral compromise.

Heather Glenn feels defined by the things she keeps buried. The finale hints at a darker future for her character, one that seems pulled from multiple corners of Daredevil mythology.

BB Urich also evolves because of that violence. What begins as a more detached, almost performative version of journalism slowly hardens into something more purposeful after violence reaches the people around her. Loss sharpens her resolve, and she starts to feel less like a vlogger chasing content and more like someone genuinely committed to speaking truth to power.

Even the city itself feels wounded.

New York in this series feels exhausted, bruised, and morally compromised — a place trying to figure out how much violence it’s willing to tolerate in exchange for order. A lesson that perhaps mirrors real life.

And underneath all of that is a surprisingly sincere theme about grace and forgiveness.

The idea that people who trespass against us can still deserve compassion. That peace might only come through forgiveness. That’s powerful stuff, and it feels very true to Daredevil as a character.

Of course, I also loved the inclusion of Jessica Jones.

Krysten Ritter immediately changes the energy of the show. When she and Charlie Cox share scenes together, there’s an actual spark to it. Banter. Chemistry. Personality. Suddenly Matt feels lighter, sharper, more human.

And honestly, I think that’s something the show desperately needs more of.

Too much of the series traps Matt in heavy, adversarial scenes — with Fisk, Bullseye, Karen, the legal system, or his own guilt. Everything is so serious all the time that the show occasionally forgets Daredevil can actually be charismatic.

That’s why I still think Matt’s appearance in She-Hulk: Attorney at Law is some of the best use of Charlie Cox in the role.

He was unburdened there.

Flirty. Funny. Charming. Confident. Even sexy.

It reminded people that Matt Murdock can actually be a leading man and not just a Catholic guilt delivery system.

And I think Born Again still struggles with that balance.

Sometimes there’s too much slow motion. Too many scenes that feel monumental when they don’t need to. Conversations repeat themselves. Characters circle the same emotional ground over and over again.

And sometimes the dialogue is just clunky.

There are moments where the show feels so disconnected from reality that it becomes difficult not to laugh a little. Massive crimes get quietly buried. Murders go unpunished for vague reasons. Some scenes drift so far into melodrama that they almost become hokey.

But still.

It’s Daredevil.

And maybe that’s part of why I’m willing to forgive more here than I normally would.

Because underneath all of my criticism is the fact that I genuinely care about these characters and want this show to fully become the version of itself I can see hiding underneath the surface.

And season two does move closer to that version. Especially the finale.

I love where this season leaves everyone. The pieces on the chessboard finally feel arranged in a way that opens the story up instead of trapping it in endless cycles of suffering and revenge.

I want to know what happens next to Matt. Karen. Jessica. Even Fisk, though I’ll admit I’m probably ready for Daredevil to fight someone else for a while.

More than anything, though, I want the show to let Daredevil become something larger than pain.

And to be fair, the series does understand that part of Matt Murdock’s strength is his faith — not just in God, but in systems. In the law. In the idea that justice can still mean something even when those systems fail him repeatedly. In his religion that teaches him grave and forgiveness. And the path to peace.

That optimism is in the character. I just want the show to lean into it more often.

I don’t need more elaborate hallway fights. More blood. More slow motion. More despair.

I need to believe Daredevil has a purpose beyond taking a beating.

Superhero stories should inspire us sometimes. And while Born Again occasionally gets there, it still feels more interested in dragging Matt deeper into darkness than letting him rise above it.

Season two takes a few real steps in the right direction. And the finale feels like the first time we see light through the cracks. There is hope.

But it also shows that the series still isn’t completely ready to let Daredevil evolve into something bigger than suffering.

Verdict: TV watcher — Really Into This / Daredevil fan — All In