P-Valley and I May Destroy You: A Binge Bonanza

I had the last two weeks off so I put them to good use by bingeing my heart out on two shows that received a great deal of critical acclaim but hadn't made their way to my watchlist yet. I'm grateful I didn't have to watch these shows week to week and could instead mainline the majority of episodes and then impatiently wait for the finales to air. And now, all episodes are available to you for your viewing pleasure: lucky you!

I May Destroy You: Written by and starring the brilliant Michaela Coel, this show follows Arabella (Coel), a British-Ghanaian woman in London who got famous on Twitter and is now a novelist and Millenial icon. She is furiously trying to finish a draft of her new novel but decided to meet up with some friends in a bar for a break. The next morning, Arabella wakes up in her flat, and can't remember anything from the night before. She assumes it was just a really wild night. However, she has a cut on her forehead and feels awful, and as the day progresses, it's clear that something's not quite right. That's when she starts having flashbacks to the night before. And has the dawning realization that at some point in the evening, her drink was spiked and she was raped. 

This is a dark show, but Coel somehow manages this insane tone throughout where there is actual comedy as Arabella tries to process her trauma and solve the mystery of what happened that night. By her side are her best friends Terry (Weruche Opia) and Kwame (Paapa Esiedu), and as the series progresses we also get to see the sexual traumas those two have gone through in the past or present. Kwame is gay, so there's a whole other mess of sexual politics and "discreet" hookups he is trying to manage, and there's an interesting juxtaposition later on in the show between how the police treat Kwame versus how they treat Arabella. 

The most fascinating aspect of I May Destroy You is that Coel doesn't especially try to make any character "likable." Arabella can sometimes be her own worst enemy, and there are moments when she lashes out against her friends, or potentially exploits her experience in selfish and strange ways. This is also a show about consent - we all know rape is wrong, but this show isn't interested in black and white; it wants to explore all the grey areas in between and the many ways in which a consensual sexual encounter can quickly turn into a nightmare scenario. It sparks uncomfortable trains of thought, and is deliciously smart and philosophical. And the series finale was a thing of beauty, an epic conclusion that felt apt but open to interpretation and offered up a satisfying ending while still ensuring nothing was tidy. 

This is the perfect show for the #MeToo era and given the mostly Black cast, it is also a perfect #BlackLivesMatter watch (I would laugh when Stephen Wight would occasionally pop in as Arabella's white roommate who really has nothing to do in this show except be the supportive friend, a neat twist on the supportive Black friend trope). Do you want to know what's it like to be a Black woman in London, the child of Ghanaian immigrants, trying to make a life for yourself on social media whilst dealing with creepy men who think they have the right to your body? Well then watch this show and prepare to be horrified and saddened, but bizarrely compelled and entertained at the same time. Michaela Coel is a fantastic actress (her face, alone, is an expressive masterpiece), but the true star of this show is the writing and she must be heralded as an absolute master for her ability to take one of the world's most difficult subjects and somehow make it both funny and human. I still can't understand how she did it, but I'm glad I got to see it.

P-Valley: Created by Katori Hall, this show is based on her play, Pussy Valley. And it is easy to tell that this show is the work of a playwright the minute you start listening to the dialogue. The story of the Pynk, a strip club in the fictional city of Chucalissa, Mississippi, this show is an absolute feast for the senses but my personal highlight is to let the dialogue wash over me and delight in the absolutely stunning writing. It wouldn't be hyperbolic to say that it often feels Shakespearean - I may not always understand what the characters are saying as there can be a lot of Southern Black slang being flung about, but much like watching Shakespeare, you don't need to understand the words to understand the sentiment. That comes pouring through simply from the cadence of the line delivery and the impeccable work of the actors who make up the motley crew at the Pynk.

This show scratches the itch left by Hustlers, a movie that left me wanting to see more strippers being badasses. Is this show incredibly graphic and not for the faint of heart? Sure. But I can honestly say the first word that comes to mind when watching these women dance isn't "erotic;" it's "athletic." My heart was in my mouth every time a woman would slide down a pole head-first, convinced that I was about to witness a traumatic brain injury. These ladies are absolute gymnastic legends, and I found myself cheering and wishing I had a couple of dollar bills to throw at my screen whenever the drama slowed down and we were treated to an expertly-choreographed dance scene where you got to revel in these women and their expertise. 

However, off the stage, there is plenty of drama to go around. There is an elaborate cast of characters, with the new girl, Autumn (Elarica Johnson), who harbors a dangerous secret, the reigning queen, Mercedes (Brandee Evans), who is planning her retirement, and the club's manager, Uncle Clifford (Nicco Annan), who is simply the most wondrous character I have gotten to see on TV in a while (Annan's line delivery would certainly make Olivier weep), and serves as a constant reminder to me to be more mindful of using the right pronouns. Apart from being a colorful and visual feast, the show also features the most incredible soundtrack. J. Alphonse Nicholson plays a rapper called Lil Murda, and the first time I watched the character of Keyshawn (Shannon Thornton) dance to his song "Fallin'," I couldn't get that song out of my head for days. And the theme song, "Down in the Valley" by Jucee Froot is a fun and eerie song that always immediately sets the tone at the beginning of every episode.

Every character in this show is brimming with complexity and doesn't fit any of your preconceived notions. As the show progressed, I found myself on the edge of my seat after every episode, desperate to know what would happen next. Would the Pynk be screwed over by corporate interests? Why does Autumn know so much about money laundering? Is Mercedes going to start her gym? Will Keyshawn ever escape her abusive partner? What amazing outfit will Uncle Clifford be wearing next? The show is compelling and witty and a rollercoaster ride from start to finish. Thankfully it has been picked up for another season, and I cannot wait to see where they go from here. 

Like I May Destroy You, P-Valley also features a mostly Black cast and it is such a welcome change to see more diverse viewpoints represented on screen because Black creatives are being given control behind the cameras. This is the kind of television we get when we finally allow Black women to tell stories, and while it took way too long to get here, we certainly can't stop now. More please.