Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Binge, Fringe, or Singe? is our television series that will cover the latest seasons, miniseries, and more. Binge is our recommendation to marathon the reviewed season. Fringe means it won’t be everyone’s favourite show, but is worth a try (maybe there are issues with it). Singe means to avoid the reviewed series at all costs.

Warning: Major Atlanta spoilers are in this article. Reader discretion is advised.

After years of anticipation, FX’s Atlanta finally returned. We were all waiting on the adventures of Earn, his cousin (rapper Paper Boi), and the rest of the troupe (the hilarious misfit Darius X, and Earn’s on-off lover Van, who he also has a child with), but we should have used this four year wait to marinate on what we know already about Atlanta: not to expect anything. We never know what we are going to get. Stylistically, creator Donald Glover, frequent director Hiro Murai, and company treat each season like they were musical albums, with each episode being its own stand-alone song that contributes to the conceptive whole. This was apparent enough in the brilliant second season, particularly with the perfect episode “Teddy Perkins”, and that sublime half hour of television should have taught us enough. This narrative deviation stars Darius, who is trying to pick up a piano from the titular character, and it is more of a horror-thriller take from The Twilight Zone than it is the comedy-drama we were then used to. If we loved this episode so much (and we do), why did we suspect that it would be the only one of its kind?

Glover compared Atlanta to The Sopranos when he interviewed himself (just another day in the office for him), but I think the third season — even instantly — reminded me of another series far more: Twin Peaks’ miniseries season The Return. The David Lynch and Mark Frost project is titled after its iconic television location, but very little of the show takes place in this actual spot. If anything, it’s far from the show we once knew. Atlanta season 3 is exactly like this. The usual cast only make up a few episodes of the entire season, which was a major disappointment for many, but I feel like these viewers — while they have every right to their opinion — were missing the bigger picture here. There are many episode entries that seem to exist within their own realm (albeit under the Atlanta universal rooftop, of course), as if the series took the anthological route instead (maybe for symbolic reasons, or perhaps because of shooting schedules). Here’s one additional reminder for you. The city of Atlanta itself was always its own character, and we get reunited with the city as well. We even deviate from the state of Georgia when season 3 feels risky enough. It’s during these moments that Atlanta is still Atlanta, even in its barest, most unidentifiable form (despite what the credits at the end of the episodes, with the names of frequent cast members who didn’t even appear, may tell you). We had a few years to get acquainted with Atlanta. Glover decided to shake things up.

When we stick with Earn and company as they putter through Europe during Paper Boi’s tour, Atlanta is its recognizable self and in top form. Even then, this season is more vocal about its commentaries on racism than ever, with a certain edge to each episode that lingers after each laugh; the anger put within each statement is meant to be felt for eternity. Conceptually, each “typical” episode is fascinating, ranging from the search for a stolen phone in “Cancer Attack” to Paper Boi’s trippy revelations on edibles “New Jazz”. The latter is especially telling, because season 3 is dictated by visions, especially dreams and apparent hallucinations. See, Atlanta was always a little off kilter to the point of feeling alien, but this season dives deeply into the surreal more than ever before (I can only imagine season 4 will go even further). While these episodes feel familiar, they’re still slightly… not. Case in point: the frightening turning point involving “Tupac” in “Sinterklaas is Coming to Town”, where the allegedly still alive rapper is mercy killed. That “Teddy Perkins” episode no longer feels like a stand alone.

This is especially true once we get to the episodic entries and whatever the hell they’re meant to be. The entire season kicks off with the horrifying “Three Slaps”, which is based on the real Hart family murders (where two wives murdered themselves and their adopted children), and the only inkling that this is even the same show is the shot of Earn waking up from what is apparently a dream (the entire episode); are all of the episodic entries dreams? Hallucinations? Fears personified? What’s for sure is that there is a lot of running symbolism and depth, so nothing here is “just because”: “Three Slaps” begins with a shot of a caucasian man named Earnest (just like our lead character), who pops up again and commits suicide in “The Big Payback” (an episode devoted to a satirical look at reparations). He talks about a missing suitcase, which finally winds up and is sent to the wrong Earnest (our familiar Earn) at the tail end of the entire season; this also mirrors the notion of stuff being sent to the wrong address from “Trini 2 De Bone”, where a deceased housekeeper’s class photos with a caucasian family’s son are sent to both her and the son’s families until the latter’s father finally opens them up to see them.

What does this all mean? Going back to “Three Slaps”, there is a discussion about whiteness and how both African Americans and caucasians are plagued by this idea. When we are with Earn and friends, we see white associates adopting the styles of other cultures, trying to negate racism with oblivious racism, and fumble in other ways. When we are distanced from them, we get these one-off tales of white Americans facing the curses of their ancestors’ decisions. In fact, a number of famous faces that we see are caucasian celebrities that have been targeted by cancel culture because of some serious faux-pas (Chet Hanks with his problematic usage of Jamaican patois, and Liam Neeson who satirizes his own proclamations of racist thoughts stemming from his anger for a loved one being hurt by a person of colour). Then there’s Alexander Skarsgård who is obviously channeling Armie Hammer, and there could be something there about the Hammer family and its privilege and abuse of others for decades. Even when Atlanta seems to not make much sense, there is a lot going on.

The season ends off with “Tarrare”, which feels like a sister episode to the penultimate episode “Rich Wigga, Poor Wigga”. The latter involved a light skinned African American student who was deemed not Black enough; he ultimately changes his identity entirely. In “Tarrare”, we see Van but she isn’t quite herself: she seems to be channeling Amélie Poulain, with Parisian accent and all. This almost feels like a joke pulled on the audience, considering that Van disappears more than anyone else of the regular squad this season (she seems to veer off and do her own thing in Europe), and now that we’ve found her, she’s succumbed to the singularities of these anthological episodes. That’s until she breaks and transforms back into herself; she is reminded of her daughter Lottie, and the world that she needs to return back to (almost like her own Dale Cooper revelatory moment; something just clicks in her mind). It’s as if she is referencing the show when she discusses the need to return to Atlanta, but will Atlanta ever be the same? Was this how it always was, and we just missed it? Did it actually transmogrify because of Glover’s yearning for something different, or as an answer to the escalating divide in America? Was this always the plan, or did we do a serious detour that the team felt was necessary?

Whatever was the case, it has already happened. It felt a bit disjointed at first, but after “Tarrare” (which somehow provided more questions than it gave answers, and yet it feels like the season is properly “wrapped up”, so to speak), everything makes a bit more sense. In the way that the characters are homesick from Atlanta, so are we. Atlanta is a part of the American (and global) whole at this point: a source for many social problems that need to be addressed and tended to. These concerns are prevalent everywhere. Will we return to Atlanta as a location and as the series? I’ll say yes to the former and no to the latter. I feel like the upcoming fourth and final season will go even crazier, but maybe it will be back home, after this European excursion. I can’t say for sure, because after season 3, I have virtually no idea what to expect from Atlanta anymore, and it’s kind of nice that way.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.

Atlanta Season 3: Binge, Fringe, or Singe?

Written by Andreas Babiolakis