
Donald Gloverâs FX series Atlanta spent much of its Season 1 narrative charting the slow pursuit of happiness, through the conduit of rap. In its second season, a slight shift affords its lead character, Earn (Glover), rare possession of physical money. He ends up, of course, at the strip club, where his cousinâthe increasingly recognized and ever skeptical rapper Alfred, aka Paper Boi (Brian Tyree Henry)âgets philosophical. âMoney is an idea, man,â Paper Boi tells Earn, his career manager. The irony is that money, in a strip club setting, is far from theoretical. Currency gets thrown, exchanges hands, and transforms into an escape route for women. Earnâs cash is good there, but elsewhere, the value of his money is questioned, literallyâno one will accept that the hundred-dollar bill he tries to use is real, even though, Earn reasons, itâs âlegal U.S. tender.â
So where does access to money get you, if the perception of you remains stagnant? Or as Paper Boi and Darius (LaKeith Stanfield) put it, if youâre âjust another niggaâ? Thatâs a thesis driving the first three episodes of Atlantaâs subtly political Season 2. The series has revealed itself to be less about rap aspirations and more about the tedious routine of progression that often only begets setbacks. Donald Glover and his team chose an appropriate theme to explore, among other topics, the meaning of ownership in a racist, capitalist society: âRobbinâ Season.â
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âChristmas approaches, and everybodyâs gotta eat,â Darius sums up in the premiere, setting up the seasonâs thematic backdrop. (For this purpose, the show is retitled Atlanta Robbinâ Season.) Everyone in the city, including Earnâs crew, wants to advance in the most efficient manner, to gain access to money even if through grimy means. Itâs a classic DMX scheme: âRob and I steal, not âcause I want to, âcause I have to.â
Each episodeâbeginning with the excellent premiere, âAlligator Man,â which kicks off with the robbery of a fast-food jointâinvolves a theft of some sort, not just physical but institutional. Thereâs a sense that as these young black men go about trying to make their friend Paper Boi popular (or whatever success looks like to them), at a thrilling yet painstaking pace, thereâs a crime-like societal setup in place. Theyâre having things stripped from them in the process, whether itâs their culture, stature, or actual possessions, i.e. Paper Boi getting jacked by a longtime associate.
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Earnâs ongoing mission to sustain himself and his daughter while making his cousin famous includes a visit to a suspicious white-run startup that helps market black rappers through its platform. As usual, Paper Boi feels uncomfortable, like an experiment, yet theyâre both compelled to participate in the performance to a point. A fascinating character, Paper Boi is excessively capable of adapting to whatâs placed in front of him, yet perpetually close to being swallowed up by his circumstances.
Everyone is trying, from Earn and Paper Boi, down to guests like Paper Boiâs freeloading gift-card scammer friend with a Bruh Man vibe whoâs fresh from prison and needs a job. Atlanta still has plenty to say, in its barebones way, about the fragmentation of dreams, a point exemplified in Episode 1, which features a surreal moment with an alligator (yes, thatâs correct) and a great guest appearance from comedian Katt Williams, who plays Earnâs Uncle Willy. The cameo doubles as meta commentary on what people are supposed to do in life, which is, to say, go somewhere thatâs not nowhere.
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âWhat Iâm scared of is being you,â Earn tells his uncle. Thereâs another applicable DMX line for his relativeâs regression: âIâve got a lotta dreams, but Iâm not really chasinâ mine.â The episode also plays off the canny, conspiratorial internet joke about the alt-right âFlorida Manâ whose job is to keep black people from registering to vote in Florida, according to Darius. Itâs a relief that Atlanta is still funny (as in, producing actual laughter). It is a comedy, but also a tragedy about false appearances.
As with Season 1, Glover and his team find ways to attack hypocrisy and talk about racism, through a slightly more direct lens, which gives the series a solemn 2018 feel. Earn and the mother of his child, Van (Zazie Beetz), experience a series of blatant prejudice moments in one episode. The showâs visual storytelling remains distinguished, because Atlanta prefers you focus on the moments between and really feel the impact of time, using environment as a roaming character. In a New Yorker profile published this week, the showâs lead director Hiro Murai described how even the city of Atlanta represents survival. âAtlanta is Wild West-yâevery corner of the city is trying to get by under its own rules,â Murai said. âThereâs no single narrative. At the outer edges, the overgrown parking lots and project blocks, the city is a few yards away from apocalypse, and if you slow down it could engulf you.â