Ranking the Best 'Atlanta' Episodes

Image via FX

Logline: “Y’all youngins don’t know nothing about this. This one takes me back to middle school. Shout out Miller Grove!”

Out of all of Atlanta’s episodes, “FUBU” feels the most grounded in reality. As a seminal flashback that’s a window into Al and Earn’s relationship and how they’ll always have each other’s backs even at the expense of others, it must be. We’re thrown into a sticky situation: Earn’s mother buys him a Fubu jersey, which in the late ’90s when the episode takes place, is probably the coolest thing a Black kid could wear to school. Only problem is another kid wears the same jersey that day, and his is a little different. What ensues is a bunch of teenagers getting their Magnum P.I. on in an effort to sniff out which one is real and which one is fake. It becomes the talk of the entire school, with young Earn (Alkoya Brunson) and Devin Meyers (Myles Truitt) dreading every second of the day.  

On television, you’ll be very lucky to come across a realistic portrait of the agonizing desire to feel cool or accepted in high school from the vantage of a Black boy. From the fine line between clowning and outright bullying (even, no especially, the substitute teacher can get it), to pocket watching, to just trying to be fly, to the white kid who’s worn the same shirt twice this week not really seeing what the big deal is, “FUBU” is uproariously funny and painfully honest. —H. Drew Blackburn

Logline: “I was legit scared watching this.”

“The Big Payback” was one of Season 3’s standalone episodes that aimed to tell a bigger story—and is still one of my favorite episodes of the season. Whether it is on purpose or by accident, Atlanta has a way of always being current when it comes to news and events that are taking place in real life. As some states in the U.S. were said to be exploring reparations for descendants of slaves in recent years, this episode served as an example of what that might actually look like both for the Black community and for white people whose ancestors owned slaves. The episode, written by Francesca Sloane and directed by Hiro Murai, showcases how the life of a man named Marshall Johnson (Justin Bartha) was completely uprooted after learning that he was the descendant of slave owners. He lost everything from his cozy desk job, to his home, and even his daughter, leaving him resentful before making peace with his new, more equal, life.

The episode is an exploration of how reparations could impact us as a society, and how they could provide an even playing field for everyone, no matter their history. While having its comedic moments, “The Big Payback” was one of those episodes that linger in the back of your mind long after you watch it. Could this happen? Would it work, and how angry would white people be if it was real? It’s unclear whether the episode is poking fun at the people waiting for reparations to happen or delivering a message that this is something that could actually be done. But as always, the writers leave you with enough questions and curiosity to keep you wanting more. —Karla Rodriguez

Logline: “Sometimes you gotta go where the money goes. But it be feeling like something is holding me back. Like I can’t leave.” 

Who doesn’t love a good Chekhov’s gun? The storytelling idea—that an element in a story must have a purpose or it’s not worth including—is both a tired trope and sage wisdom. If done correctly, it’s a satisfying payoff. Fortunately for “Crabs in the Barrel,” the literal gun Earn carries around the entire episode proves effective in how it wraps up the second season’s overarching plot—Earn’s constant failures as a manager—in a profound way. Atlanta is a show that often gets reduced to being more of a “vibe” than a propulsive narrative, and “Crabs” proved that the series always has its eye toward the horizon, even if we don’t always see right away that as viewers. —William Goodman

Logline: “Yo Tarrare was a real person. Wild. They gotta stop biting these better shows tho.”

“Tarrare” was one of those rare episodes in Atlanta that actually answers lingering questions. The Season 3 finale brought to a close the story arc that had been developing around Van (Zazie Beetz) since the first episode. Van left it all behind in Atlanta, including her child, to join Earn and the guys on tour in Europe, obviously on a search for something that we don’t learn about until the season’s end. After Van was acting strange throughout the trip, she leaves them and disappears. We find her in Paris in the finale having adopted a French accent and an Amélie-inspired haircut. She has somehow established a life out there already, finding a French fiancé and a job as a sous-chef and server in a strange restaurant. Van runs into her friend Candice (Adriyan Rae) from Atlanta who serves as a lighthouse that brings her back to reality and the troubles and questions she is running away from: Who is she outside of being Lottie’s mother? Where is her life going?

It wouldn’t be Atlanta if the show didn’t approach this episode with a heavy dose of surrealism. The portrayal of Van’s new life in the city of lights is whimsical, strange, and terrifying. She somehow is connected to actor Alexander Skarsgård, uses a stale baguette as a weapon to beat a man’s ass, and is on a hunt for human hands to be deep-fried and served as a delicacy at the restaurant she works at (one of the most WTF moments I’ve ever experienced watching TV). As always, even the wildest of moments in Atlanta are also grounded in realism and truth. There is a French delicacy known as “ortolan bunting,” which is a tiny songbird that’s illegal to consume in Europe because it’s nearly extinct, so people cover their heads with a towel while eating it due to shame or for privacy, just like they did while eating the hands in the episode. It is by far one of the strangest moments in the series, and not one that I’m ready to revisit any time soon, but man, was it done beautifully. 

Eventually, Van has an explosive meltdown that helps her come to her senses. Viewers learn that she has been acting strange all season because of the inner turmoil she is dealing with of questioning her abilities as a mother and as a person, wondering who she is when everyone around her feels so grounded and settled in who they are. 

“Tarrare” also included a post-credit scene of Earn receiving a bag from an airline for an Earn Marks (the white man we met in the season’s first episode “Three Slaps” and who dies by suicide in “The Big Payback.”) Not only does he share a name with the show’s protagonist, but he also serves as a connector between Season 3’s bottle episodes and as reminder that it is all somehow existing in the same universe. —Karla Rodriguez

Logline: “Montague; Special guest Paper Boi and Dr. Deborah Holt.”

“Nobody Beats the Biebs” was a demarcation line, foreshadowing what’s possible in Atlanta. A BLACK Justin Bieber? OK, that’s strange, funny, and meta as hell, yet in the grand scheme of character development and the season’s arc, only moved the series forward by a millimeter at best. “Biebs,” the fifth episode of Atlanta’s first season, was a primer for all of the experiments we’d come to see in the future and, if you were paying close enough attention, an opportunity to ease you into the doozy that the inaugural season’s seventh and best episode, “B.A.N.,” was.  

“B.A.N.” is the first seriously ambitious endeavor we got from the most ambitious sitcom of our lifetime. Paper Boi is a guest on a send-up of a BET Tavis Smiley-esque late-night talk show, replete with bizarre ads that conjure the spirit of Black Dynamite and Putney Swope. Its commentary on transphobia, Caitlyn Jenner, and how it intersects with race is more interesting, compelling, and funnier than every single lazy, mean-spirited joke Dave Chappelle has written on the subject. “B.A.N.” is packed with heavy subject matter, like the aforementioned along with police brutality and racial identity. The character of Harrison Booth (né Antoine Smalls), an extremely homophobic Black man who identifies as a 35-year-old white man, was outrageous, and Glover’s idea to cast Niles Stewart, who was known for a meme, sends the cleverness of this episode over the top. 

“B.A.N.” is Atlanta’s thesis statement. The creators are not here to be profound, and episodes like this open the door to more questions than they close. After “B.A.N.,” you have to come to realize that Atlanta relishes any opportunity to showcase provocative work and will always have the specter of surrealism creeping around the corner, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. This episode, with the prospect of a culture of angry social media commentary in its crosshairs, showed that it’s always more curious about starting interesting conversations, rather than regurgitating existing conversations.  —H. Drew Blackburn

Logline: “You know how you need a fresh cut but your barber is always on some wack stuff? He’s lucky I only trust him.”

“Barbershop” is Atlanta’s funniest episode to date and one of the 2010s’ funniest half hours of television. The fact that it was immediately followed by “Teddy Perkins” is likely part of the reason it doesn’t get its due justice, but we shall not let its brilliance get lost in the sands of time. 

Robert Powell III’s performance as Bibby, the janky ass hustler type with 5,000 different hustles who’s constantly blowing hot air into his BlueTooth headset, is nothing short of excellent. Especially when you consider that he didn’t know he was the star of the episode and thought he was just an extra until the morning he arrived on set. As Bibby drags Paper Boi all around the city, from one location to the next, and each situation gets more and more out of control—while Flying Lotus and Thundercat’s score ratchet up the frenetic energy—you realize that the tension built is a twisted sort of genius. It’s hard to tell what is more relentless, Bibby’s narcissism or the way the episode’s writer Stefani Robinson keeps bludgeoning us with joke after joke, quotable after quotable. When Bibby remarks, “And his carburetor had jaundice,” with a straight face, well ladies and gentlemen, that’s high art.  

All things considered, Bibby could probably keep this act up for days on end if he were allowed to. Who knows what he’s done to someone a little more conflict-averse than Alfred, who just wanted a damn fresh cut for a photoshoot.  —H. Drew Blackburn

Image via FX

Logline: “Why Paper Boi always got an attitude? He rich, right? That’s why I can’t feel bad for these celebrities.” 

When you’re building something, stagnation is the death of progress. In the case of someone like Alfred, who is trying to advance his career as a rapper, staying in the same place won’t lead him to his lofty dreams. Such is the lesson the man otherwise known as Paper Boi learns in the middle of the woods, albeit at the edge of a box cutter held by a junkie. But like another standout episode of Robbin’ Season, “Woods” (which features what’s possibly Brian Tyree Henry’s best performance) is colored by a ghost of what once was, as the anniversary of Alfred’s mother’s passing seemingly puts him in a space to be more receptive to what the world is telling him about his current stature and fame. It’s a lesson hard-earned, but one he embraces—with a bloody smile. Whatever came next, it was time for Alfred to move towards it with as much inertia as possible. —William Goodman

Logline: “Wow it’s been a minute. I mean, I like this episode about the troubled kid but we waited 50 years for this?”

Three delicate little slaps. No force. Nothing with gusto or years of pent-up aggression like a Willard Smith slap, but soft paternalistic slaps to assert dominance. It’s not right, and neither is the way his mother made him dance as a form of punishment, but it’s overkill that this is what summons Family and Children’s Services to arrive at Loquareeous’ door and gets him ripped from his mother’s care and placed inside a foster home. 

“Three Slaps” was Atlanta’s triumphant return after a long four-year hiatus and is the first episode in a season full of alienating stories. It’s inspired by two tragic events. The first of which is how the town of Oscarville, a once-thriving Black community, got washed away by racial cleansing and turned into present-day Lake Lanier. Two alleged assaults on white women drove white mobs into a surge of violence—lynchings, house burnings, vicious beatings—until, eventually, Oscarville’s 1,100 residents were forced to leave. 

The other tragedy that inspired this episode is the story of the Hart family murders, in which two white women adopted six Black children, abused them, and killed the kids in a murder-suicide. Although he has a death certificate, the body of one of the children, Devonte Hart, has never been recovered. 

Stephen Glover, who penned “Three Slaps,” deftly blends the macabre with humor here. Washcloths, the most disgusting fried chicken ever made, and “Is Hugs your father?” are all platinum jokes. But, anybody familiar with the Hart family’s story probably had their heart broken when they realized what was happening. For me, it was the moment I saw Loquareeous wearing that silly fedora at the farmers market. 

As is custom with Atlanta, things aren’t quite what they seem. The episode ends unexpectedly, with Loquareeous playing the hero, crafting an escape plan for him and the demonic couple’s other captives. In Atlanta’s surreal universe, we’re spared a sick calamity.   

Episodes like “Three Slaps,” that are heavy on social commentary, are never expressly about proving a point. Even when Atlanta is giving history lessons and retconning evil wrought by pseudo-liberals with malevolent intent, it is anti-message theater. The writers simply spill their guts about everything that’s on their minds, hell-bent on making creative choices that stick to your ribs.  —H. Drew Blackburn

Image via FX