Finn Jones, a.k.a. Margaery Tyrell's brother Loras from Game of Thrones, plays Danny as a case of a secret identity that might be just too well disguised because he's so totally devoid of charisma, more cub than lone wolf. With his scruffy beard and dazed "who, me?" eyes, Jones could be one of the twinkling boy-men who populated Hollywood comedies a decade ago, except now the party's over and he can't understand why bad hombres keep trying to kill him. It might have been shrewd to play the hippie hacky-sack man-child angle for laughs a kung fu avenger trapped in the body of a schlub from The Hangover Part IV: Return To Vegas. But Iron Fist has no humor either, so it ends up just looking like a superhero drama where they forgot to invite the superhero.
There are connections between all the Netflix Marvel shows like Rosario Dawson, who returns as nurse Clare Temple. But unlike its urban do-gooder brethren, the series has no personality. Where Jessica Jones digs into sexual trauma and Luke Cage plays off the historic agony and glory of Harlem, Iron Fist's hero can't seem to muster any inner turmoil beyond the occasional harshed vibe. There doesn't seem to be much of anything going on his skull. His mystic Zen quotes go over like a Wayne's World set-up minus the punch line. Jones' Danny has a unintentionally comic way of walking away from a Daredevil-style combat scene with a hurt expression that says "Whoooa, I hate when that happens." In a perfect TV world, he'd get a Broad City crossover episode where Danny and Abbi have a romantic date with some cosmic brownies and Phish bootlegs.