#blackAF

“#blackAF” is funny and audacious in many of the same ways [as “black-ish”] — “Curb Your Enthusiasm” to its predecessor’s “Seinfeld.” But there are an awful lot of echoes and repetitions: themes that might have been explored on “black-ish,” story lines and character dynamics that already were explored on “blackish.” “#blackAF” finds its voice immediately. It takes longer to suggest its purpose — that is, what Barris can say here that he couldn’t and hasn’t already.

You're either completely in on the joke, or have at least accepted its shortcomings enough to enjoy the lines that Barris has written at his own expense. But if you don't quite make it there, never mind. Barris is committing enough self-flagellation for the entire culture by way of an upscale reprise of past TV acts, and we are under no obligation because of anything to bear witness.

“#blackAF” is a messy show about the mess of making television. ... The other seven episodes blur into one another, lacking story or situation. I couldn’t get enough of Jones as a loving, self-absorbed, rich-bitch mom, and I will never complain about a Nia Long cameo, especially one in which she’s playing a hustler publicist. But “#blackAF” desperately needs fewer riffs and an expanded character universe to leaven its atmosphere of crushing self-indulgence.

The parents reek of entitlement and self-centeredness. The kids are various degrees of wack. The show celebrates/normalizes black families and race relations while undermining them with humor that cuts close to the bone.