#blackAF

It may seem like black-ish with f-bombs, but #blackAF is still a funny, meta introduction to what Barris will be able to do with the creative freedoms Netflix brings.

On Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David makes you feel like the whole world is conspiring against him, whereas with #blackAF, it kind of feels like Kenya is out to stick it to the world. You've gotta have the goods to do that though, and this time, Barris does.

It seems like anything can happen on #blackAF. It’s that kind of unpredictability and refreshing tone that make the idea of future #blackAF seasons exciting—as long as Barris continues to follow the advice his character gets from Tyler Perry: “Tell your own experience. Can’t nobody tell you how to be you.”

#blackAF isn’t a bad watch. While the episodes are too long, they’re mostly funny and enjoyable, albeit unsettlingly familiar for obvious reasons.

Sometimes it's a post-modern exercise. Sometimes it's a sour smirk at audience expectations. Sometimes it's self-flagellation. I found it often funny and was invested in trying to decode the layers of fictional autobiography. As to whether the layers of cynicism and discomfort are actually pleasurable to watch? That's a tougher question.

It’s the Curb Your Enthusiasm to Black-ish’s Seinfeld, with monologues interspersed throughout that tackle fraught issues within the black community, like materialism and fatherhood. These interludes can be illuminating, but they—along with the framing device and too many tired family-sitcom plots (e.g., Mom and Dad do drugs)—slow the already languid pace. More engaging are scenes that depict Barris’ professional life. ... Barris’ Larry-David-like self-awareness lends authenticity to his performance. Even if it takes another season to perfect, #blackAF feels substantial enough to justify the investment.