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Atlanta Recap: Watch Your Back, Soulja

Season 4 Episode 6 Editor’s Rating4 stars ****

Photo: Guy D’Alema/FX

Now that we’re past the midseason mark, I can confidently say this final season of Atlanta is outpacing the previous one by a mile. The critiques of modern-day culture are sharper, the comedy is increasingly on point, and Brian Tyree Henry’s acting is such a pleasure to watch. Over the years, his portrayal of Al has created a fascinating, beautifully developed character arc that adds to the show’s success. I feel that way about Zazie Beetz’s, LaKeith Stanfield’s, and Donald Glover’s characters, too, but this episode is a showcase for Henry’s talent.

We’ve seen Al transform from a local rapper to a bona fide celebrity who books stadium tours. His rise to fame is aspirational for many — like the young man who’s barely able to provide for his family while waiting patiently for his big break, convinced that all it takes is one moment to go from mall food-court employee to rap superstar. Al understands the privilege and rarity of his situation, which has catapulted him to a new life, albeit one that comes with a new set of problems and that is still dogged by his past. Now that he’s a public figure, the decisions he made years ago have an even higher chance of affecting his future. There was no way for him to anticipate that a YouTube video from the prehistoric year 2007, a time before social media became the soul sucker it is today, would come back to bite him in the ass.

In the Atlanta universe, a Lipstick Alley conspiracy theory attributes most of the recent murders of Black men to the Crank Dat Killer, a murderer who seems to be targeting those who made videos doing the “Crank Dat (Soulja Boy)” dance. Al is initially unaware of the conspiracy (because he still relies on cable TV for his news), but when Earn and Darius rejoice in never having made a video of themselves doing the dance, Al’s mind goes to his own YouTube upload, which he made with one of his old friends at the height of the trend. Although he claims to be unbothered by being a potential target of the killer, Al immediately asks Earn to get the video scrubbed from the internet. It has only 25 views, but he wants to avoid fans finding the post and hyping the killer.

Earn and Al venture to the studio after their discussion of Al’s “Crank Dat” video. Being the talented artist he is, Al records his song in 15 minutes before an unwanted visitor pops his head into the room: a fellow rapper who goes by Some Guy Named Doug and whose incessant requests for collaboration Al has been going out of his way to avoid. (Al admits to Earn that while the guy’s incredibly kind, his music downright sucks.) Al goes as far as pouring the remnants of his alcohol onto the studio equipment as an excuse to dodge Some Guy Named Doug’s request to make something on the spot.

Shortly after leaving the studio, Al rewatches his “Crank Dat” video in his car and finds a recent comment with the skull-and-crossbones emoji by an account whose profile picture is simply the letter A. Okay, Pretty Little Liars! Understandably, the cryptic comment makes Al worry even more, and he becomes consumed by the thought that the killer may come for him. The next day, he calls the person as close to the source as he can get: Soulja Boy himself.

Although it’s not as great as the Gunna cameo of a few weeks ago, we get an onscreen appearance from Soulja Boy as he talks to Al. Soulja admits that his own fear of being targeted by the Crank Dat Killer is causing him to flee to his “safe farm,” and he advises Al to do the same because, “like a good nigga, safe farm is there.” Unable to feel safe even in his own home, however, Al goes to the mall incognito and grabs a pretzel. The server recognizes him because only a famous person would think that wearing sunglasses indoors and a hat without a logo while frantically looking over their shoulder is inconspicuous. Al goes outside to eat his pretzel when he notices a car pull up with the GPS loudly announcing the arrival to the desired destination … which happens to be exactly where Al is.

The driver exits the car and stares ominously at Al, yelling “Paper Boi!” at him. Al runs, his paranoia leading him to believe this is the Crank Dat Killer, and ignites a full-on chase through the mall. Just as Al is seemingly safe and hidden, pretending to shop at a kiosk, the man opens fire on him. The entire mall erupts into madness as another shopper (pushing a stroller?!) starts shooting back. More people with guns join in, compounding the anxiety in my mind over how loose our country’s gun laws are. Amid the flurry of bullets, Al keeps on trying to escape. For some reason, the struggling aspiring rapper who works at the food court decides this is the perfect moment to display his talents in front of Paper Boi. Terrified and filled with adrenaline, Al pushes the young man into a glass shop window.

Adding even more insanity, Earn and Darius are at the mall too, meeting in the parking lot with a mysterious shoe plug who can get them a pair of exclusive Nikes that have been impossible to find due to the nature of the reselling beast. He operates out of a van and is known around the neighborhood simply as “Shoe Man.” He offers them the Nikes in their sizes, delighting Darius and Earn until they’re informed of the price: Instead of money, Shoe Man wants to see Darius and Earn make out. Earn starts off unequivocally against the notion of providing a sexual service for the shoes, but Darius is willing to make the sacrifice. I mean, I would too, depending on the friend and the shoe. But I’m guilty of the mind-set Earn is critical of: I’ve paid disgusting amounts of money for some of my sneakers even if I know deep down I’m putting an excessive value on running shoes (that I wouldn’t dare run in). We all have our vices.

Earn and Darius start to haggle with the man, debating exactly how many minutes of kissing are required for the shoes before asking for privacy to talk it over. Earn makes a convincing argument against going through with the kiss, but it’s not convincing enough to talk Darius (or himself) out of it. The weirdo shoe plug returns; plays “All My Life,” by K-Ci & JoJo; and gets a comfortable view of the pair in his rearview mirror. Darius puckers his lips and Earn begrudgingly leans in and kisses him back. As their lips meet, the ruckus from the mall spills out into the parking lot and the Shoe Man gets shot in the head. Shocked, Darius and Earn take their shoes and hurry out of the van to avoid any implications in the shooting.

Al is still trying to find safety amid the shots flying in the mall. He makes it out to the parking lot and is hiding behind a car when, of all people, Some Guy Named Doug happens to appear. Al quickly gets into his car and emphatically thanks him for saving his life. To Al’s disappointment, Some Guy Named Doug is actually on his way to the studio, leaving Al no choice but to hop on a song, unable to say no to the man who rescued him from a shoot-out. The beat sounds like something my 1-year-old nephew and I would make on one of his Fisher-Price toys, but Al is indebted to his savior.

Darius, Earn, and Al convene at Al’s apartment at the end of the episode, and Darius informs them that the Crank Dat Killer has been identified as some random man and not whoever was chasing Al at the mall. That shooter turns out to be someone Al had beef with from high school. Darius asks what happened, and Al simply says he thinks the man was still mad. Al peeps Darius’s sneakers and compliments them, to which Darius replies that he had to “do a li’l something” for them but it was worth it. All three men leave the details of their impossible-to-explain day to themselves while listening to Paper Boi and Some Guy Named Doug’s trash collab.

Atlanta After Hours:

• When Al is sitting outside the mall enjoying his pretzel, a group of young boys is there recording a TikTok dance. It’s a great way to show the cyclical nature of Black culture and traditions. Although it was a reach for Darius to compare Al’s video to the spiritual nature of Black dance, he’s right — one thing we’ve always carried from our African ancestors is our love for the joy and community of dance.

• Atlanta is no stranger to guest appearances from polarizing celebrities, e.g. Liam Neeson and Chet Hanks, and now we can add Soulja Boy to the list of questionable cameos. I agree with the argument that he had a large part in the popularization of YouTube and is a trendsetter, but I’ve always found him a bit slimy after his former girlfriend came forward alleging abuse.

• I have a confession, one I can’t believe I’m admitting, but I follow Earn’s philosophy on the news: I get my breaking news and discourse from Twitter, conspiracies and gossip from Lipstick Alley or Reddit, and if I’m interested in a specific topic, I do my own search for articles. I’m sorry, but I cannot afford all these paywalls and cable subscriptions when Black Twitter has kept me more updated than CNN ever has.

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