At this point, I'll watch anything that Donald Glover and his regular collaborators create because however surreal, real or otherwise it might be, these stories are told with great clarity, of vision, point of view and experience. While Glover and his team always infuse their work with social consciousness they're not hemmed in by it, and are always playing somewhere way outside of the box.
Not since Norman Bates, has a serial killer been presented with such sympathy as Dre, to the extent that her murderous rage, while shocking, almost comes to seem like a super power. The creators claim these episodes are rooted in fact but they're also clearly a fantasia, and while I wouldn't go so far as to say we are all Dre, we are definitely on this journey with them. Dominique Fishback, who has been one to watch for years with excellent work in The Deuce, Night Comes On and Judas and the Black Messiah, is outstanding here as Dre; from the start, she is her obsession and doesn't exist in any other state of being, and we come to know and understand why. Her dissociation is her only joy. That later, seemingly incognito, she comes to emerge as her truest self, is an incredible feat of performance and writing that is as sharp as any instrument Dre uses to have her revenge and do away with anyone that crosses her.
The final shot is, thematically, a bit of a letdown, as one would expect Team Glover to take on the object of this obsession with the same bare knuckle force they use in their approach to her fans. But one suspects if there is a Season 2, Episode 1 would reveal these circumstances to be something other than what is presented here. Or is "Ni'Jah" really a goddess worthy of such adoration, worship and complete loss of reason? I dunno, I suspect not but such is the power of Swarm, I feel somewhat concerned for my safety even cautiously suggesting that here. I also feel compelled to speak of her as if she really exists and using Dre's line "Who's your favourite artist?" as coded messaging to those in the know that, yes, now that I've watched this, I'm part of this "swarm," the one that admires and is slightly obsessed with Swarm, for daring to be different and being a genuinely provocative work of art, in the vein of but more successfully executed American Psycho - Patrick Bateman wouldn't even see Dre comin'; locating the power of black horror rooted in sociological and cultural references that seize our immediate interest and engagement, rather than confounding us with opaque references that will require the reading of a primer on the filmmaker's obscure interests to fully appreciate their smugness. (What would his name be, if Jordan Peele were a character in a Donald Glover joint...?) Swarm delivers in powerful punches that kind of knock you out; late at night, I couldn't watch more than two episodes, back to back, and I'm still haunted by both the dream-like and nightmarish scenarios that fill my head, enough to watch the whole thing again. So I ask you again and this time you better know the answer: "Who's your favourite artist?" It is the achievement of Swarm that the question becomes bone-chilling satire in itself, and the answer is not to be taken lightly.
Not since Norman Bates, has a serial killer been presented with such sympathy as Dre, to the extent that her murderous rage, while shocking, almost comes to seem like a super power. The creators claim these episodes are rooted in fact but they're also clearly a fantasia, and while I wouldn't go so far as to say we are all Dre, we are definitely on this journey with them. Dominique Fishback, who has been one to watch for years with excellent work in The Deuce, Night Comes On and Judas and the Black Messiah, is outstanding here as Dre; from the start, she is her obsession and doesn't exist in any other state of being, and we come to know and understand why. Her dissociation is her only joy. That later, seemingly incognito, she comes to emerge as her truest self, is an incredible feat of performance and writing that is as sharp as any instrument Dre uses to have her revenge and do away with anyone that crosses her.
The final shot is, thematically, a bit of a letdown, as one would expect Team Glover to take on the object of this obsession with the same bare knuckle force they use in their approach to her fans. But one suspects if there is a Season 2, Episode 1 would reveal these circumstances to be something other than what is presented here. Or is "Ni'Jah" really a goddess worthy of such adoration, worship and complete loss of reason? I dunno, I suspect not but such is the power of Swarm, I feel somewhat concerned for my safety even cautiously suggesting that here. I also feel compelled to speak of her as if she really exists and using Dre's line "Who's your favourite artist?" as coded messaging to those in the know that, yes, now that I've watched this, I'm part of this "swarm," the one that admires and is slightly obsessed with Swarm, for daring to be different and being a genuinely provocative work of art, in the vein of but more successfully executed American Psycho - Patrick Bateman wouldn't even see Dre comin'; locating the power of black horror rooted in sociological and cultural references that seize our immediate interest and engagement, rather than confounding us with opaque references that will require the reading of a primer on the filmmaker's obscure interests to fully appreciate their smugness. (What would his name be, if Jordan Peele were a character in a Donald Glover joint...?) Swarm delivers in powerful punches that kind of knock you out; late at night, I couldn't watch more than two episodes, back to back, and I'm still haunted by both the dream-like and nightmarish scenarios that fill my head, enough to watch the whole thing again. So I ask you again and this time you better know the answer: "Who's your favourite artist?" It is the achievement of Swarm that the question becomes bone-chilling satire in itself, and the answer is not to be taken lightly.