Image via Complex/Vertical Entertainment/HBO
With everyone more or less in vacation mode or getting into being outdoors mode, it is dope that there is some solid entertainment dropping to help you ease your mind from everything, even if its only for 30-60 minute intervals.
This week, we have two shining stars in their fields for Black entertainment in Hollywood. The talented Nicole Beharie (who really needs to be doing more) and Issa Rae (who churned out another superb season of Insecure) both brought it, and we also have two new series to take note of.
You know the deal—we give you some thoughts on this fire, you plan accordingly. You're welcome.
'Insecure' - "Lowkey Lost" (Season 4, Episode 10)
Where to Watch: HBO Max
[Ed note: This does spoil aspects of the Season 4 Insecure finale. If you haven't check ed it out yet, don't continue reading.]
How do you end a phenomenal season like Insecure's fourth? By throwing a monkey wrench into the love triangle you spent spent building for, lowkey (wink, nudge) two seasons). After getting Issa and Lawrence back into a place where they can get to know the newest versions of themselves, Condola reveals that she's pregnant and the baby is Lawrence's, which shifts the plan Lawrence had for his life currently. This is what we find out later, though; the majority of the episode finds the squad (including Issa and Molly) out looking for Tiffany, taking viewers on an intense, at times quite hilarious trek through their hideouts in an attempt to find a friend who's been off the rails for a bit.
Everything was building to this moment; the Tiffany seeds had been sewn for a while, as have the idea that the dominoes Lawrence had been setting up would be disrupted at some point. Insecure showrunner Prentice Penny, hot off directing the Netflix original Uncorked, wrote and directed the finale, applying some dope techniques (the way the conversations between Condola and Lawrence and, later, Lawrence and Issa blended together to piece together information was slick, as was the entire conceit of this APB on Tiffany being what kind of cleared the air for Issa and Molly to try and build.
Mentioning Molly makes me realize that her story hurt the most this season. As an admitted Molly apologist, I've always understood where she was coming from. She's very giving, and ends up getting hurt because she's feels as if she's only getting back so much from people who say they have her back. She's not only lost her best friend (Issa), but this episode, her love life blew up in her face after Andrew kept it a buck about his true feelings. It's almost as if Insecure is truly reveling in upping the intensity level of MESS at the end of each season, only to further drive wedges and widen gaps between characters. It's messy, but it's enjoyable, especially when this talented of a crew is putting in that much work on script, visuals, and audio. Insecure is the series we need today. —khal
'Perry Mason' - "Chapter 1" (Season 1, Episode 1)
Screened: Five episodes for review
Of all the questions posed by HBO’s Perry Mason revival, the biggest one of all seems to be “Just who is this for?” In the show’s initial batch of episodes, I’m not sure if I can definitively answer that question. The courtroom drama that made the Raymond Burr-led 1950s and 1960s version so infamous is largely unseen. In its place instead is a gritty crime drama that more resembles a 1930s version of True Detective than it does anything remotely close to what people remember of the Burr series. (That’s no accident: TD creator Nic Pizzolatto was initially attached to the project, with Robert Downey Jr. set for the lead role) While that approach is (admittedly) a smart way to bait the hook for new viewers, the result causes this version to trend all too familiar waters, despite stunning visuals and superlative performances—and lands it in a bit of a narrative no man’s land, unsure of where exactly it wants to go.
As showrun by Rolin Jones and Ron Fitzgerald, the HBO version of Perry Mason functions as an origin tale for the titular character. Far from the sterling lawyer we know him to eventually become, this younger Mason, played by Matthew Rhys, is a down-on-his-luck private investigator who spends his days working with his partner Pete Strickland (an always welcome Shea Whigham) to scrape together cash—most notably by taking photos of illicit sexual activities between motion picture studio stars—to keep him afloat after returning from World War I. His nights involve missing his son, boozing, and engaging in quite physical acts of intercourse with airplane pilot girlfriend Lupe (Veronica Falcón), whose neighboring airfield is increasingly encroaching on the familial Mason farm where Perry resides. His routine changes with the grizzly murder of Matthew (Nate Corddry) and Emily (Gayle Rankin) Dodson’s infant son Charlie, as Mason is contracted by attorney E.B. Jonathan (John Lithgow) to help ascertain what really happened to the young babe. Character actor Chris Chalk is also prominently featured in later episodes as Paul Drake—someone whom long-term Mason fans will certainly find exciting.
Between the murder itself, the dark tone, and the presence of a local megachurch headed by Tatiana Maslany’s Sister Alice, the aforementioned True Detective vibes become quickly apparent—for good and for ill. The crime noir element is one way to get new viewers attracted to its central mystery, but it also is afflicted with the bloat that comes with these types of shows. That is to say, even early on (I’ve seen five of the show’s total eight episodes) you can tell the creators are stretching out the plot for the sake of filling out an episode count. Fortunately, Perry Mason is lighter in tone than Nic Pizzolatto’s show has ever been, as Jones and Fitzgerald often temper the project with a comedic sense that’s a welcome respite from the show’s otherwise dour tones. Most of the Mason levity comes from the character’s interactions with Strickland and Lupe; the previously mentioned sex scene between Lupe and Perry is, ahem, rather hilarious in its actual execution, while the zippiness and gentle-ribbing of Strickland and Perry’s interactions play like your favorite buddy cop movie.
On the subject of Perry Mason himself, Rhys is, unsurprisingly, the show’s highlight. Fans of The Americans will know the actor was consistently phenomenal in his performance as tortured undercover KGB spy Philip Jennings. There’s certainly some overlap between that previous role and this new one, as both characters are filled with a lingering sense of melancholy over where life has taken their respective paths. As Mason, Rhys is absolutely electric, fully fleshing out a role that could have fallen short in the hand of another actor. Maslany is equally as kinetic once her Sister Alice enters the picture, getting to sink her teeth into a rather showy role. Mason’s other strength lies in its visuals as HBO directorial stalwart Tim Van Patten beautifully renders Depression-era Los Angeles. The production teems with life in a way that will be familiar to those who watched his many episodes of Boardwalk Empire. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge a captivating jazz score from Spike Lee collaborator Terence Blanchard in his television debut.
Perry Mason is one of those shows where you can fully understand why each creative choice was made. In 2020, reviving a long-storied franchise IP is one way to make sure your show gets the attention it might not get otherwise; applying a murder-mystery plot is a no-brainer for our true-crime obsessed culture; on and on it goes. It’s just a slight disappointment to see those choices add up to a project that just falls a little short, but who knows? Maybe the last three episodes will bring it all together. —William Goodman
'Taste the Nation' (Season 1)
Where to Watch: Hulu
About halfway through the premiere episode of Padma Lakshmi’s Taste the Nation, the multi-hyphenate chef, host, and food personality teams with San Antonio Chef Rico Torres to make some food. It’s pretty standard for these types of food travelogues—you’ll get a moment in which the host joins with a local chef to indulge in some of the area’s specific flavors. Yet what immediately struck me about the scene was the execution of it; each individual ingredient of the larger dish was broken out and specifically highlighted in order to provide a chance for it to shine. It’s a quick, yet extremely insightful, microcosm of what Taste the Nation does so well: A focused look at all the disparate elements that make up what we all know as “American food.”
The Hulu series (I’ve seen three of the show’s ten episodes, all of which dropped on June 18) is inherently focused on the immigrant experience and how that’s shaped the culture of food in this country. As an immigrant herself, Lakshmi is uniquely situated to take a look at the intersection of these elements and how they ripple out into their respective communities and into the country at large.
Naturally, this comes with an exploration of social issues as well. The premiere episode is focused on El Paso and opens in striking fashion, as Padma is frequently interrupted by the sound of Border Patrol helicopters flying overhead while the crew attempts to film. A quick glance at her social presence and you’ll know Padma has been extremely vocal in her advocacy, which makes her well-suited to foster dialogues about sensitive political issues like we see in the premiere. She’s able to engage in these dialogues in a deeply empathic way, which sets the show up well for when Padma turns her gaze inward; Taste the Nation’s third episode explores the host’s own deeply personal connection to her childhood in Queens and how American and Indian heritage intermix with one another. The result is a deeply affecting episode and an immediate series standout.
It’s cliche to say food is the thing that often brings us all together, but Taste the Nation proves this axiom true time and time again. The series, as it turns out, is extraordinarily well-suited to this specific moment in our country’s history because of how thoroughly it explores our past and how it informs the present. Not unlike that cooking cutaway, sometimes it’s best to just take a step back and break things down into their individual ingredients so you can better understand the larger whole. —William Goodman
'Miss Juneteenth'
Where to Watch: Prime Video
In Miss Juneteenth, Nicole Beharie proves what many already knew: she's more than capable of carrying the weight of a film on her back, especially when that film is entrenched in the struggle of Black folk that don't normally get whole movies like this made for them. Set in Texas around an upcoming Miss Juneteenth pageant, Beharie's Turquoise is the matriarch at the center of this tale. Without letting you know everything upfront, you get the feeling that Turquoise has been through it, but instead of letting the struggle of life get her down, she uses it as motivation to get herself and her daughter up and out of the situation they are in. As humorous as it can be emotional, with a small cat that features Insecure's Kendrick Sampson, Miss Juneteenth is a heartfelt tale that, while not perfect, is moving and liable to teach you a thing or two. —khal