Tune In Or Tune Out: ‘Black Cake’ Delivers Bold Specificity In One Immigrant’s Story
In its first two episodes, Hulu’s new series Black Cake boasts family drama, secrets, and even murder. Based on Charmaine Wilkerson’s novel of the same name and executive produced by Oprah Winfrey, the series follows the trying life of Coventina Brown (Mia Isaac as her younger self, Chipo Chung as her older self); Covey’s story is told via posthumous recordings left for her children, Byron (Ashley Thomas) and Benny (Adrienne Warren). Episode titles from “Covey” to “Mrs. Bennett” and more track Coventina’s different identities. She begins as Coventina or Covey in Jamaica, ultimately sold by her father as a bride for a loan shark named Little Man (Anthony Mark Barrow). When Little Man is murdered, she flees to the U.K. where she hides under the alias of Eleanor. Finally, she reaches Southern California, where she becomes Ma to Byron and Benny, continuing to hide her past from them. Covey’s tale is intercut with Byron and Benny’s reactions and present-day situations, products of the secrets and decisions of their mother. Black Cake speeds through the drama of Covey’s journey, leaving little time to sit with the impact; however, strong performances and the unabashed specificity of Covey’s world make for a uniquely entertaining story.
Meet Covey
As Covey’s recordings guide the whole series, Chung’s narration deftly bears the heavy storytelling weight. Her tone is subtly powerful and mirrors the strength and determination of both her and Isaac’s performances. The visual of Isaac’s painfully held, stiff upper lip communicates the torment Covey constantly swallows. It is not hard to root for the heroine, even as she bides her time before fighting back. However, Covey often misses the opportunity to change her situation while waiting for the perfect moment. Instead, luck saves her, leaving Covey to stick to the old “work hard and keep your head down” routine in the meantime. While this fits conventional narratives of passivity in immigrants and women of color, it also reflects their struggles and impossible choices. Furthermore, if not in literal actions, Covey is an active protagonist in terms of controlling her mindset. Nevertheless, if you are looking for heightened drama, interpersonal fights, and big bursts of emotion, Black Cake includes only a few such moments.
There is strength in understatement, though, and the entire cast delivers compelling performances. Thomas and Warren display particular complexity as the show explores the ways their mother’s secret life shaped them. Byron learned to bottle up his own emotions and is now hesitant to fight against discrimination at his oceanography lab. Benny felt intimidated by the perfect picture of her mother growing up and now deals with an abusive relationship, afraid to admit it to her family. The rippling effects of Covey’s origins and decisions to hide it play out in intricate ways within Byron and Benny’s lives, setting up a fascinating back-and-forth between past and present.
The series cuts between the aftermath of Little Man’s murder in Jamaica, Covey’s life in the U.K., and her children’s lives. Sometimes, questions and characters are dropped for a while. The audience doesn’t see Jamaica at all for a few episodes and doesn’t find out what happens to Covey’s loved ones or what happened to Little Man until the very end. However, the show takes its time, diving deep into Covey, Byron, and Benny’s lives before gradually weaving in the next piece of the mystery.
Was it Tune In or Tune Out?
While the series doesn’t rush to answer questions, it still covers several decades, countries, and generations in only eight episodes. This leaves little time to dwell on the character’s emotions and struggles. Byron and Benny deal with the revelations of the recordings, discrimination, an abusive boyfriend, and their strained relationship; thus, there is little time for the audience to sit with their raw reaction to their mother’s death and her traumas. Even for Covey, who undergoes truly harrowing experiences, each problem is solved in one episode before moving on to the next adventure. She avoids marrying Little Man after only one scene between the two of them and one episode dedicated to the threat of the wedding; viewers get the sense that no matter what horrible situation arises, the tension won’t last too long. The solutions to each problem are serendipitous and, unlike other dramas, the show does not sadistically torture its characters.
The series replaces that tension with forced cliffhangers. At the end of one episode, Covey sees a familiar face across the street and absent-mindedly starts to cross. Shots of Covey are intercut with shots of an approaching bus and finally, a blur of motion before the credits pop up. The series builds all of this up only for the next episode to immediately reveal that the bus crossed in front of Covey, who continued to jaywalk just fine. The teasers of impending doom distract from a very complex and compelling story. If the show were to simply let Covey’s life play out without exaggerating the drama, the subsequent focus on determination and hard-learned lessons would be plenty entertaining.
One of the most alluring aspects of Black Cake is its bold specificity. Covey is a half-Black, half-Chinese, Jamaican woman who emigrates to London, then Edinburgh, and finally southern California. Viewers glimpse Covey’s father’s childhood as a Chinese immigrant in Jamaica, a boarding house of young women from the island in London, and the food and culture that each group brings with them. The series covers a lot of social themes including queerness in the Caribbean and among immigrant families, workplace discrimination, the objectification and commodification of young women, motherhood, being Black in America, and intergenerational trauma. All these subjects, as well as universal themes of regret, when to stand up versus when to hold back, and letting go are all rooted in Covey and her family’s distinct story.
This individual-centered, holistic look at how one’s past affects the future, how one place blends into another, and how particular context shapes a whole life is an especially fascinating aspect of the series. Just as Covey’s secrets shape her children’s lives, Covey’s childhood in Jamaica, particularly as a pre-professional swimmer, bleeds into the rest of her journey. She lets her mind wander during long swims and in her most trying moments; her mother teaches her to control her breath which she does when she gives birth; and as she walks into the Scottish ocean to scream in frustration, there is a beautiful cut to her father being pulled out of the water after attempting suicide. Each new episode builds off the last and each of Covey’s memories come together to shape who she is, creating an intricate and intriguing picture.
Who will like it?
Black Cake takes viewers on a sweeping journey through multiple decades, countries, and generations. While completing such a task in eight episodes leaves little time to sit with characters in their pain, the sheer breadth of topics covered makes for a fascinating, multifaceted story. If you are looking for intense, emotional drama and writing that tortures its characters, Black Cake might not satisfy your craving. However, if viewers can disregard the series’ relentless teasing of spicy mysteries and instead accept the series as an exploration of a particular life — complete with fortuitous ups and agonizing downs, regrets and lessons learned, defining memories and legacies for the future — then Black Cake will take them on a uniquely entertaining journey. All eight episodes of Black Cake can be streamed on Hulu now.
