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Money

The New Episode of 'Atlanta' Explores How Much It Sucks to Be Broke

The third episode of Donald Glover's excellent new show presents a mix of everyday struggles underscored by the threat of violence.
All photos by Guy D'Alema/courtesy of FX

Warning: spoilers for episode three of 'Atlanta'

Third episodes might be the toughest in a new television show's run because they function like a hinge upon which the show's fortunes, in the short term, pivot. Consider the first season of True Detective. If you recall, the end of the third episode revealed a villainous individual in soiled briefs and a gas mask, wielding a machete—the potential arch-nemesis to Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson's detectives—as a scary, yet satisfying cliffhanger. The scene everyone remembers—the tracking shot through a public housing complex riddled with bullets from white supremacists and police alike—occurred in episode four. But the show had to get you there first. It needed to deliver; it needed to keep us, the viewers, arrested.

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After a _strong two-episode premiere, _Atlanta_,_ the new comedy drama by actor, writer, and comedian Donald Glover, has arrived at the same point. Earn (Glover), freshly bailed out of city lockup by Van (Zazie Beetz), succeeded in getting a local radio station to play his cousin Paper Boi's single. But while attention is on Paper Boi throughout his daily life in the city, he's still not living up to his name. Rapping good is one thing, but converting your dreams into dollar bills is another.

"Go for Broke," the third episode, opens with cash-strapped Earn at a local fast-food joint, attempting to quietly order a kids' meal for himself. The cashier—newly appointed "day manager"—isn't having it, and comedic banter ensues. Denied the meal and unable to afford anything else on the menu, Earn accepts defeat and asks for a courtesy cup for water, which he then uses to filch fountain soda.

There is little happiness in Earn's life. As the camera follows him walking down the street, he holds his blazer over his head, blocking out the rain from the storm cloud that seems to follows him wherever he goes. Success so eludes Earn, he is incredulous to find out that Paper Boi—his cousin, Wayne—sustains himself financially as a drug dealer.

None of these facts are tainted by the sleight-of-hand quasi-intellect one might find in a cable drama, bereft with high-minded ideas, wooden characters, and casual racism. Earn and Paper Boi exchange a blunt as they chill and joke about their bank accounts, paltry as they may be, while the camera is suddenly trained on Darius who, in preparation for the drug deal he and Paper Boi are about to engage in, cocks a pistol hidden in a cereal box. It is what it is. Meanwhile, Earn awaits a meager direct deposit to hit his account—$96—so he and Van can enjoy a night of dinner and conversation. With this simple conceit, "Go for Broke" presents a mix of everyday struggles underscored by the threat of violence.

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The deal eventually takes Paper Boi and Darius into the dense Georgia woods, winding through barely lit back roads, far away from the city. A drug deal, on its face, brings with it a level of uncertainty, danger perhaps. Paper Boi and Darius meet their contacts around a campfire (Atlanta-based rap group Migos). Before addressing Paper Boi's business, the contacts open a compartment to their RV. Out tumbles a cornrowed, whimpering man in boxer briefs, held captive for unknown reasons. The deal itself is an additional source of discomfort for Paper Boi as inquiries are made into a murder charge he might've faced at some time in the past. His contacts are curious as to how he beat a 25-year sentence. Paper Boi stutters as his phone vibrates from a frantic call made by Earn, who needs a quick deposit of cash for his night out.

Back in the city, Earn and Van have their date at a hip, modern restaurant. With a bowl of soup priced at $28, the restaurant quickly threatens to drain the remaining coins from Earn's account. Dinner specials are rattled off by their upbeat server, then added on without a glance at the price tag. The scene is a commiseration of regular people with regular-people problems doing what regular people tend to do when hardship and calamity visit: spend money they don't have to enjoy a fleeting moment of pleasure. The poor deserve fancy meals and comfort, too. Later, a rant-cum-confessional positions Earn—the confessor—as a tragic hero, a defeated man still fighting to manifest the flighty dreams in his heart. Van, patience eroded, responds, "That's some dumbass shit, Earn," and walks out. Self-delusion projected as philosophy makes for a nice sound bite, but it doesn't work when it's just empty talk.

A new show's third episode confirms its creator's intentions. Just as in True Detective when, by the end of the third episode, the viewer grasped the concept that the show was more than another police procedural, "Go for Broke" establishes Atlanta as something more than another drama from a comedian-auteur with artsy aspirations, more than a black comedy. Glover cleverly pays his respect to shows and movies before him—the dinner scene between Earn and Van could've come from any one of the black romantic comedies from the mid-to-late 90s, and the riotous scene in the woods could've come from a young Martin Lawrence or Robin Harris. The cinematography is striking in "Go for Broke," and every song selection for the episode succeeds. Small, yet significant details are revealed, and we begin to see the main characters differently. But for all that occurs in each scene, Atlanta is a quiet show. It refuses to insist itself upon the viewers with ham-fisted truisms. There is no moralizing here. It's just a community of black folks trying to figure it all out, day by day. Atlanta is onto something good.

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Atlanta airs on Tuesdays at 10 PM on FX.