Let's be real. When we think of reality TV, very specific things come to mind. Yes, we've got our Housewives (Real and Basketball alike), our classic Jersey Shore-type scenarios, our Love Islands, our bachelors and bachelorettes and all that jazz, but when it comes to Black excellence in reality television, what is there? Love & Hip Hop? More like money and messiness to me. Keeping Up with the Kardashians? The blackest thing about that show was Kanye, and I get it, you know. High-minded drama is hard, and Black high-minded drama is even harder, especially when being ratchet is what really sells. At least it was, until Issa Rae's first project of this nature finally came to fruition: HBO Max's Sweet Life: Los Angeles.
Executive produced by Rae (among others),Sweet Life: Los Angelesfollows a group of seven well-to-do, up-and-coming professionals in their respective fields, all of whom are friends, and most of whom were born and raised in the South L.A. area. We have Amanda Scott, an Inglewood native and PR professional. There's Briana Jones, a Michigan native and creator of an organic body butter line. Cheryl Des Vignes is a fashion designer and Watts native. Jerrold Smith II is an L.A. native and entertainment-marketing specialist at Westbrook, Inc (Will and Jada's company). Jordan Bentley is an L.A. native and the CEO of Hypland®, an L.A.-based streetwear company. Then there's P'Jae Compton, South Central L.A. native and artist manager. And, finally, we have Tylynn Burns, the founder and head of House Party Creative, an event planning agency.
Now, besides everyone's jobs, the thing that sets this show apart is its focus. The median age of the cast members is 26, which is the epitome of young adulthood and usually an age depicted as having much less direction than what's shown on SL:LA. Usually, Black people around this age, and most ages really, are depicted as constantly having to survive some kind of struggle. Instead, these people aren't really lost when it comes to finances or having positive support from their families; nor are any of them old enough to be jaded or unchanging in that way that kind of precludes growth. The sky is the proverbial limit for them, and their Blackness, while an important part of their experiences, is not the main course.
That said, the lifestyle being enjoyed by these young people of color is usually depicted by reality TV as a stop only available on very specific life paths -- not unlike how social media paints the picture that luxury and opulence are only attainable through plastic surgery, having an OnlyFans account, and/or somehow being in the music industry. Reality TV would have us believe that in order to go on an amazing couples trip to Barbados with our friends that we would all have to be doctors, or worse, that we'd only be there to compete for someone's "love."
But on SL:LA you see a bunch of relatable Black twenty-something's enjoying a huge beachfront property in Cabo, and it's like, "Nobody's a rapper? No one here is an aspiring R&B singer, or an NBA player's wife? How is that even possible?"
In other words, I've never seen people this close to my age -- people who look like me, and sound like me, and use words that I use, and make faces that I make, just … thriving. Like, for real for real. It's a little insane to think about, honestly. How did we get to a point where watching six to eight young men of color sit in a room and openly discuss mental health in their community feels groundbreaking?
The drama -- the "he said/she said" b.s., the unnecessary shade -- is all there, and it's all real, and it's all exactly what one would expect from a reality show, which is a good thing. I just also appreciate the idea that TV's definition of Black reality has now seemingly expanded just enough to show me a side of the culture that doesn't get as shine as it should -- the side that's young, good-looking, successful against all odds, and, most importantly, desperately hopeful.
Beyond the cast, the make-up of the series itself is what one would expect from the HBO Max/Issa Rae combo. The visual quality is on par with scripted dramas. The theme song is modern, catchy and perfectly on theme. The integration of the body microphones was damn near flawless. (I think I spotted one body mic pack throughout the whole season.) And, just like Insecure, damn near every single song that played was "add to my playlist" ready.
None of this particular stuff is surprising, kind of like how Gordan Ramsey cooking an amazing meal doesn't sound like a stretch, which just speaks to the quality of Issa and the gang's work. As Desus and Mero might say, "The brand is strong."
Obviously, this thing needs a season two so that I can see how things play out with this particular group of friends, but I also need a Sweet Life: New York to come out, and if it does, well, I can think of at least one young black successful TV critic that might make the cut.
Click the social buttons to share this content with your friends and colleagues.
The opinions and points of view expressed in this content are exclusively the views of the author and/or subject(s) and do not necessarily represent the views of MediaVillage.com/MyersBizNet, Inc. management or associated writers.