Image via FX
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Atlanta became required appointment television when it debuted in September 2016. Since then, the show has also transformed into one of the most celebrated and talked-about shows in recent memory, leaving viewers with plenty to say week after week. The past three seasons gave us so much to discuss, question, and laugh about, as we learned more about Earn (Donald Glover), Alfred “Paper Boi” Miles (Brian Tyree Henry), and Van (Zazie Beetz.) The story started off with Earn beginning to manage his cousin Al’s rap career after dropping out of Princeton, and the experiences and situations they all find themselves in as they try to make it in the music industry.
But those who watch the FX hit series know that Atlanta is more than just its basic storyline—it also provides social commentary, humor, and necessary history lessons. Donald and his team, including his brother Stephen Glover, writer and producer Stefani Robinson, directors like the talented Hiro Murai, and the cast have created a world within and outside of Atlanta, Georgia that is unlike anything TV fans have ever seen before. The episodes are often drenched in surrealism and leave you guessing between what is real and what isn’t, what’s a dream and what is actually happening. Many of the stories they have told in the past three seasons also bury themselves in your mind long after you turn off your TV. Episodes like “Teddy Perkins” and “Tarrare” were just two of the most WTF moments in the show’s history, and are likely to haunt you forever.
Atlanta has successfully utilized its characters, its guest appearances, and the topics they cover to make fans question society and the world in which these characters and we, as viewers, exist, making it one of the most impactful series of this generation. Whether its racism, reparations, the Black experience, the dangers of fame, or therapy, there is an Atlanta episode inspired by it. Check out our ranking of Atlanta’s best episodes so far. These are subject to change as Season 4 continues and as we near the series finale coming later this year.
14."FUBU" (Season 2, Episode 10)
Logline: “Y’all youngins don’t know nothing about this. This one takes me back to middle school. Shout out Miller Grove!”
Out of all of Atlanta’s episodes, “FUBU” feels the most grounded in reality. As a seminal flashback that’s a window into Al and Earn’s relationship and how they’ll always have each other’s backs even at the expense of others, it must be. We’re thrown into a sticky situation: Earn’s mother buys him a Fubu jersey, which in the late ’90s when the episode takes place, is probably the coolest thing a Black kid could wear to school. Only problem is another kid wears the same jersey that day, and his is a little different. What ensues is a bunch of teenagers getting their Magnum P.I. on in an effort to sniff out which one is real and which one is fake. It becomes the talk of the entire school, with young Earn (Alkoya Brunson) and Devin Meyers (Myles Truitt) dreading every second of the day.
On television, you’ll be very lucky to come across a realistic portrait of the agonizing desire to feel cool or accepted in high school from the vantage of a Black boy. From the fine line between clowning and outright bullying (even, no especially, the substitute teacher can get it), to pocket watching, to just trying to be fly, to the white kid who’s worn the same shirt twice this week not really seeing what the big deal is, “FUBU” is uproariously funny and painfully honest. —H. Drew Blackburn
13."The Big Payback" (Season 3, Episode 4)
Logline: “I was legit scared watching this.”
“The Big Payback” was one of Season 3’s standalone episodes that aimed to tell a bigger story—and is still one of my favorite episodes of the season. Whether it is on purpose or by accident, Atlanta has a way of always being current when it comes to news and events that are taking place in real life. As some states in the U.S. were said to be exploring reparations for descendants of slaves in recent years, this episode served as an example of what that might actually look like both for the Black community and for white people whose ancestors owned slaves. The episode, written by Francesca Sloane and directed by Hiro Murai, showcases how the life of a man named Marshall Johnson (Justin Bartha) was completely uprooted after learning that he was the descendant of slave owners. He lost everything from his cozy desk job, to his home, and even his daughter, leaving him resentful before making peace with his new, more equal, life.
The episode is an exploration of how reparations could impact us as a society, and how they could provide an even playing field for everyone, no matter their history. While having its comedic moments, “The Big Payback” was one of those episodes that linger in the back of your mind long after you watch it. Could this happen? Would it work, and how angry would white people be if it was real? It’s unclear whether the episode is poking fun at the people waiting for reparations to happen or delivering a message that this is something that could actually be done. But as always, the writers leave you with enough questions and curiosity to keep you wanting more. —Karla Rodriguez
12.“Crabs in a Barrel” (Season 2, Episode 11)
Logline: “Sometimes you gotta go where the money goes. But it be feeling like something is holding me back. Like I can’t leave.”
Who doesn’t love a good Chekhov’s gun? The storytelling idea—that an element in a story must have a purpose or it’s not worth including—is both a tired trope and sage wisdom. If done correctly, it’s a satisfying payoff. Fortunately for “Crabs in the Barrel,” the literal gun Earn carries around the entire episode proves effective in how it wraps up the second season’s overarching plot—Earn’s constant failures as a manager—in a profound way. Atlanta is a show that often gets reduced to being more of a “vibe” than a propulsive narrative, and “Crabs” proved that the series always has its eye toward the horizon, even if we don’t always see right away that as viewers. —William Goodman
11."Tarrare" (Season 3, Episode 10)
Logline: “Yo Tarrare was a real person. Wild. They gotta stop biting these better shows tho.”
“Tarrare” was one of those rare episodes in Atlanta that actually answers lingering questions. The Season 3 finale brought to a close the story arc that had been developing around Van (Zazie Beetz) since the first episode. Van left it all behind in Atlanta, including her child, to join Earn and the guys on tour in Europe, obviously on a search for something that we don’t learn about until the season’s end. After Van was acting strange throughout the trip, she leaves them and disappears. We find her in Paris in the finale having adopted a French accent and an Amélie-inspired haircut. She has somehow established a life out there already, finding a French fiancé and a job as a sous-chef and server in a strange restaurant. Van runs into her friend Candice (Adriyan Rae) from Atlanta who serves as a lighthouse that brings her back to reality and the troubles and questions she is running away from: Who is she outside of being Lottie’s mother? Where is her life going?
It wouldn’t be Atlanta if the show didn’t approach this episode with a heavy dose of surrealism. The portrayal of Van’s new life in the city of lights is whimsical, strange, and terrifying. She somehow is connected to actor Alexander Skarsgård, uses a stale baguette as a weapon to beat a man’s ass, and is on a hunt for human hands to be deep-fried and served as a delicacy at the restaurant she works at (one of the most WTF moments I’ve ever experienced watching TV). As always, even the wildest of moments in Atlanta are also grounded in realism and truth. There is a French delicacy known as “ortolan bunting,” which is a tiny songbird that’s illegal to consume in Europe because it’s nearly extinct, so people cover their heads with a towel while eating it due to shame or for privacy, just like they did while eating the hands in the episode. It is by far one of the strangest moments in the series, and not one that I’m ready to revisit any time soon, but man, was it done beautifully.
Eventually, Van has an explosive meltdown that helps her come to her senses. Viewers learn that she has been acting strange all season because of the inner turmoil she is dealing with of questioning her abilities as a mother and as a person, wondering who she is when everyone around her feels so grounded and settled in who they are.
“Tarrare” also included a post-credit scene of Earn receiving a bag from an airline for an Earn Marks (the white man we met in the season’s first episode “Three Slaps” and who dies by suicide in “The Big Payback.”) Not only does he share a name with the show’s protagonist, but he also serves as a connector between Season 3’s bottle episodes and as reminder that it is all somehow existing in the same universe. —Karla Rodriguez
10.“B.A.N.” (Season 1, Episode 7)
Logline: “Montague; Special guest Paper Boi and Dr. Deborah Holt.”
“Nobody Beats the Biebs” was a demarcation line, foreshadowing what’s possible in Atlanta. A BLACK Justin Bieber? OK, that’s strange, funny, and meta as hell, yet in the grand scheme of character development and the season’s arc, only moved the series forward by a millimeter at best. “Biebs,” the fifth episode of Atlanta’s first season, was a primer for all of the experiments we’d come to see in the future and, if you were paying close enough attention, an opportunity to ease you into the doozy that the inaugural season’s seventh and best episode, “B.A.N.,” was.
“B.A.N.” is the first seriously ambitious endeavor we got from the most ambitious sitcom of our lifetime. Paper Boi is a guest on a send-up of a BET Tavis Smiley-esque late-night talk show, replete with bizarre ads that conjure the spirit of Black Dynamite and Putney Swope. Its commentary on transphobia, Caitlyn Jenner, and how it intersects with race is more interesting, compelling, and funnier than every single lazy, mean-spirited joke Dave Chappelle has written on the subject. “B.A.N.” is packed with heavy subject matter, like the aforementioned along with police brutality and racial identity. The character of Harrison Booth (né Antoine Smalls), an extremely homophobic Black man who identifies as a 35-year-old white man, was outrageous, and Glover’s idea to cast Niles Stewart, who was known for a meme, sends the cleverness of this episode over the top.
“B.A.N.” is Atlanta’s thesis statement. The creators are not here to be profound, and episodes like this open the door to more questions than they close. After “B.A.N.,” you have to come to realize that Atlanta relishes any opportunity to showcase provocative work and will always have the specter of surrealism creeping around the corner, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. This episode, with the prospect of a culture of angry social media commentary in its crosshairs, showed that it’s always more curious about starting interesting conversations, rather than regurgitating existing conversations. —H. Drew Blackburn
9.“Barbershop” (Season 2, Episode 5)
Logline: “You know how you need a fresh cut but your barber is always on some wack stuff? He’s lucky I only trust him.”
“Barbershop” is Atlanta’s funniest episode to date and one of the 2010s’ funniest half hours of television. The fact that it was immediately followed by “Teddy Perkins” is likely part of the reason it doesn’t get its due justice, but we shall not let its brilliance get lost in the sands of time.
Robert Powell III’s performance as Bibby, the janky ass hustler type with 5,000 different hustles who’s constantly blowing hot air into his BlueTooth headset, is nothing short of excellent. Especially when you consider that he didn’t know he was the star of the episode and thought he was just an extra until the morning he arrived on set. As Bibby drags Paper Boi all around the city, from one location to the next, and each situation gets more and more out of control—while Flying Lotus and Thundercat’s score ratchet up the frenetic energy—you realize that the tension built is a twisted sort of genius. It’s hard to tell what is more relentless, Bibby’s narcissism or the way the episode’s writer Stefani Robinson keeps bludgeoning us with joke after joke, quotable after quotable. When Bibby remarks, “And his carburetor had jaundice,” with a straight face, well ladies and gentlemen, that’s high art.
All things considered, Bibby could probably keep this act up for days on end if he were allowed to. Who knows what he’s done to someone a little more conflict-averse than Alfred, who just wanted a damn fresh cut for a photoshoot. —H. Drew Blackburn
8."Alligator Man" (Season 2, Episode 1)
Logline: “Ayyy! We back in the city but thangs feel a little different. Must be Robbin’ Season. Free Paper Boi!”
Everyone did exactly what needed to be done in Season 2’s “Alligator Man.” Katt Williams delivered a damn Emmy-winning performance as Uncle Willy—one of our favorite characters in the entire series even though he only appeared once. Al, who is on house arrest, sent Earn to check in on their uncle after Willy’s girlfriend Yvonne called saying she was being kidnapped in his home after he claimed she stole $50 from him. Earn reminds his uncle that kidnapping is a federal offense and demands for him to set her free when he finds her locked in a bedroom. “I must have kidnapped that bitch in 1974, because she ain’t been a kid in 45 years,” Willy says. Then he confirms that he also has a living, breathing alligator locked in a different room.
LaKeith Stanfield’s quiet and powerful performance as Darius in this episode is remarkable, and an added bonus within the craziness that ensues throughout this episode. Not only does Darius kick the episode off by walking viewers through what “Florida Man” is, but he only gets better once they’re inside Willy’s home, delivering some of the best lines in the episode. “I would say nice to meet you but I don’t believe in time as a concept, I just say we always met,” he states while introducing himself to his friends’ relative. “Shit is like an Azealia Banks Snapchat,” he says later on after finding Uncle Willy’s alligator in the bathroom surrounded by dead chickens.
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“Alligator Man” also uncovers some issues in Al and Earn’s family, and there’s a tension between Willy and Earn that’s hard to miss. Willy also gives Earn some sage advice in order to make it and it’s not to spoil his potential by having a perpetual chip on his shoulder. As his nephew and as a favor to Al, Earn also does what he can to help his uncle not get in trouble with the cops—even if it means walking out of the house with one of his guns in his backpack. The final scene is also some of Atlanta and director Hiro Murai’s best work. Uncle Willy lets his alligator go out of the front door as a distraction and the episode ends with him running down the block, fast as hell might I add, in his bathrobe and slippers. Everything from the flawless casting that highlights often under-celebrated talent, providing insight into the characters’ histories, all while telling a story in the funniest, most outlandish way possible, “Alligator Man” is a clear example of everything Atlanta does well in just 30 minutes. —Karla Rodriguez
5."Woods" (Season 2, Episode 8)
Logline: “Why Paper Boi always got an attitude? He rich, right? That’s why I can’t feel bad for these celebrities.”
When you’re building something, stagnation is the death of progress. In the case of someone like Alfred, who is trying to advance his career as a rapper, staying in the same place won’t lead him to his lofty dreams. Such is the lesson the man otherwise known as Paper Boi learns in the middle of the woods, albeit at the edge of a box cutter held by a junkie. But like another standout episode of Robbin’ Season, “Woods” (which features what’s possibly Brian Tyree Henry’s best performance) is colored by a ghost of what once was, as the anniversary of Alfred’s mother’s passing seemingly puts him in a space to be more receptive to what the world is telling him about his current stature and fame. It’s a lesson hard-earned, but one he embraces—with a bloody smile. Whatever came next, it was time for Alfred to move towards it with as much inertia as possible. —William Goodman
4.“Three Slaps” (Season 3, Episode 1)
Logline: “Wow it’s been a minute. I mean, I like this episode about the troubled kid but we waited 50 years for this?”
Three delicate little slaps. No force. Nothing with gusto or years of pent-up aggression like a Willard Smith slap, but soft paternalistic slaps to assert dominance. It’s not right, and neither is the way his mother made him dance as a form of punishment, but it’s overkill that this is what summons Family and Children’s Services to arrive at Loquareeous’ door and gets him ripped from his mother’s care and placed inside a foster home.
“Three Slaps” was Atlanta’s triumphant return after a long four-year hiatus and is the first episode in a season full of alienating stories. It’s inspired by two tragic events. The first of which is how the town of Oscarville, a once-thriving Black community, got washed away by racial cleansing and turned into present-day Lake Lanier. Two alleged assaults on white women drove white mobs into a surge of violence—lynchings, house burnings, vicious beatings—until, eventually, Oscarville’s 1,100 residents were forced to leave.
The other tragedy that inspired this episode is the story of the Hart family murders, in which two white women adopted six Black children, abused them, and killed the kids in a murder-suicide. Although he has a death certificate, the body of one of the children, Devonte Hart, has never been recovered.
Stephen Glover, who penned “Three Slaps,” deftly blends the macabre with humor here. Washcloths, the most disgusting fried chicken ever made, and “Is Hugs your father?” are all platinum jokes. But, anybody familiar with the Hart family’s story probably had their heart broken when they realized what was happening. For me, it was the moment I saw Loquareeous wearing that silly fedora at the farmers market.
As is custom with Atlanta, things aren’t quite what they seem. The episode ends unexpectedly, with Loquareeous playing the hero, crafting an escape plan for him and the demonic couple’s other captives. In Atlanta’s surreal universe, we’re spared a sick calamity.
Episodes like “Three Slaps,” that are heavy on social commentary, are never expressly about proving a point. Even when Atlanta is giving history lessons and retconning evil wrought by pseudo-liberals with malevolent intent, it is anti-message theater. The writers simply spill their guts about everything that’s on their minds, hell-bent on making creative choices that stick to your ribs. —H. Drew Blackburn
3.“Teddy Perkins” (Season 2, Episode 6)
Logline: “Darius is trippin in this one. Y’all know I woulda been left.”
Glover famously described Atlanta as “Twin Peaks with rappers,” and no episode better exemplifies that ethos better than “Teddy Perkins.” The best moments of David Lynch’s famed, otherworldly drama felt like window into other realms—sometimes literally, other times metaphorically—and “Perkins” manages to do the same as it shifts its intention from moment to moment. Is it a bottle episode? Is it a treatise on the cost of success? The burden of generational pressure? What fame does to children? An absurdist comedy? Is it a terrifying horror episode? “Perkins” is special because it’s all of those things—and so much more.
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While it’s anchored by superlative performances by LaKeith Stanfield and Glover, the real talent is Hiro Murai’s directorial master class; the stalwart Atlanta helmer manages to fill each frame with an unsure ambiance—furthered by how the pacing slows and lets Perkins’ ghosty figure haunt each scene. Teddy Perkins, the character, demands your attention the second he appears. It’s fitting the episode, which shares his name, does too. While Darius never speaks of the event ever again, it’s the episode of Atlanta that everyone has—and will continue—to talk about for years to come. —William Goodman