‘Atlanta’ Exposes the Absurdity of Performatively ‘Woke’ White People

STAY IN YOUR LANE

In “The Old Man and the Tree,” the third episode of its third season, Donald Glover’s FX series explores a billionaire house party gone to hell.

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Oliver Upton/FX

Following Sister Act and the Disney Channel original movie Cadet Kelly, FX’s Atlanta is maybe my favorite fish-out-of-water comedy. As much as I love the show’s experimental aspects and occasional dramatic bit, I derive the most pleasure from watching Earn, Al, Darius and Van awkwardly navigate bougie house parties, recording sessions, whatever shitty venue Paper Boi is booked to perform at, and now Europe, like they’re all Alices in Wonderland. Even in their native town with people who look like them, the group is constantly surrounded by weirdos and people with completely different social and moral codes that they can never quite adjust to. This recurring theme helps solidify the kinship amongst them, which has never seemed voluntary so much as they all need each other to survive.

Likewise, “The Old Man and The Tree,” directed again by Hiro Murai and written by Taofik Kolade, finds the gang at a fancy, influencer-filled loft owned by a billionaire named Fernando (Daniel Fathers) who has an affinity for trees and having sex with ghosts. In the opening scene, Earn, Al, Van and Darius are walking down a street discussing the mysterious investor they’re about to meet. Earn explains that he’s a friend of another investor he’s apparently made some connections with named Will (Patrick Kennedy) and simply wants to “hang out around” Paper Boi. As the camera tracks the four of them cracking jokes, they uncannily resemble the cast of Seinfeld (with Darius obviously being the Kramer of the group). Earn and Al both carry a bit of George Costanza with them, but Earn feels slightly closer to Jerry. Van is a less interesting Elaine, at least in this episode. More on that later!

When they arrive at the seemingly small, shabby house covered with newspapers, Will takes them upstairs to a vast, luxury apartment—or pad, more accurately—that feels like a completely separate location. It also has its own Nando’s. Al wanders off and ends up running into Fernando, who seems about as sketchy as your average billionaire but establishes a good rapport with Al. He tells him that he allows artists and influencers to come through his house and shows him a giant, old tree he planted before taking Al to another floor to smoke weed and gamble.

Meanwhile, Darius has a cringey encounter in the kitchen with an Asian woman named MK (Jessica Leung) who immediately assumes he’s hitting on her when he asks her to pass a bottle and turns him down. “I get hit on by Black guys a lot,” MK explains casually. “I lived in Los Angeles for a minute. Black guys love Asian women.” Darius then replies that he thinks it’s a “good cultural exchange” because both groups like hip hop and anime. As someone who listened to Childish Gambino’s early mixtapes and records where Glover raps about having sex with Asian women ad nauseam, my ears immediately shot up at this dialogue. Although he’s not the writer of the episode, I’m not sure this particular phenomenon is something he wants to bring attention to on his show, in addition to that quote about being called the N-word in bed that went viral recently, but I digress!

Darius seems relatively unfazed by MK’s remarks. But a white guy named Socks (Hugh Coles) overhears their conversation and informs him that it was “fucked up” and that he’s “got him.” For a millisecond, I genuinely thought this was a possible love interest for Darius, who, for the most part, has been portrayed asexually so far. Instead, it’s the beginning of a running gag about white people being performatively “woke” and overprotective allies without the consideration of the Black people they’re trying to protect.

Elsewhere at the party, Will introduces Earn and Van to a young, Black artist named TJ (Sheyi Cole) who makes Damien Hirst knockoffs and takes terrible photos of pantless, old, white men in Supreme hoodies. Later, Will tells Earn that he’s invested $500,000 in renting out the space for TJ and buying him equipment. Before Earn can tell him that he’s wasting his money, TJ jumps in and explains their undoubtedly fruitless plan, which is to create an “influencer incubator” where creators can receive free food and housing, all paid for by selling art subscriptions. Earn smartly dodges Will’s offer to get involved, saying he needs to check if Doja Cat’s doing something similar so he doesn’t step on her toes.

In another room, Al and Fernando are playing poker with two other guys. Fernando tells a story about seeing a naked, pale Black man walk into his house, who ended up being a ghost he had sex with. Every random, odd story that’s told on this show becomes some philosophical spiel about race and class. Likewise, he starts asking Al if he believes in ghosts, then God and the Devil, claiming the two both have to exist together. “Why do you think there’s so much killing in the world?” he asks.”Why do you think I have so much money? Everything’s just looking for balance.”

Fernando tells a story about seeing a naked, pale Black man walk into his house, who ended up being a ghost he had sex with. Every random, odd story that’s told on this show becomes some philosophical spiel about race and class.

Al, who wagered $20k, shrugs this off and announces that he has four aces, winning the game. “Well, you cleaned me out,” Fernando laughs before disappearing from the room. Al asks the other men if he’s coming back with his money, but the two of them also leave without answering.

Earn meets Al away from the party and tells him about TJ and his hideous art. He fears that TJ’s scam is going to make it harder for talented Black kids to receive opportunities, to which Al replies, “Black kids need to scam more.” As someone deeply bored by the current onslaught of TV about white scammers, I couldn’t agree more. “If this fool wants to pay for the culture, let him,” TJ says when he walks by.

When Al leaves to find his money, Earn sees Van talking to a guy at the pool. Cue Astrud Gilberto’s “A Certain Sadness” as Earn gazes at her longingly. Out of nowhere, she pushes a waiter walking by into the pool and starts laughing hysterically.

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Zazie Beetz and Donald Glover in Atlanta's "The Old Man and the Tree"

Oliver Upton/FX

Van doesn’t do much this episode besides stare off into space, giggle to herself, and utter a few throwaway lines. She’s ostensibly experiencing some sort of mental break from the stress of being a young mom with little resources and not knowing what she wants to be in life, something we already got hints of in season two. So far, this season has barely attempted to crack open her brain, but there’s time. It’ll be very exciting when she announces that she wants to start a singing career or open a bakery—literally anything in place of this manic-pixie-dream-girl act.

The episode ends on a hysterical note with all the white people at the party chasing MK into a room and apparently torturing her after they hear about her remarks to Darius. Will, who we find out is her fiance, also calls off their engagement in solidarity. When we last see her, she’s sobbing on the sidewalk.

After realizing he’ll never get his money, Al finds a chainsaw and begins to cut down Fernando’s beloved tree. He, Earn and Darius flee the scene with stolen Nando’s and hop in a taxi. Sock somehow made it in the car with them, but they all forgot to grab Van, encapsulating the space she occupies in these men’s (and sometimes the writers’) minds. Hopefully, this is a lead-in to a solo episode or the beginning of her personal journey without having to follow the boys around.