“I wasn’t born into a family so much as I was hatched,” is how Tracy McMillan has described her origin story. Her mom was a “20-year-old Minnesota girl with a really bad drinking problem,” and her dad was a “Billy Dee Williams type who committed crimes for a living.” Mom dipped out early on, which meant Dad was her sole parent when he wasn’t incarcerated in one penitentiary or another. McMillan has filtered many of those details through a comedic lens in the new Hulu series “UnPrisoned.”
Starring Kerry Washington and Delroy Lindo, the dramedy centers on a woman who re-connects with her father after he finishes his most recent prison sentence and comes to live with her and her teenage son in their leafy Minneapolis neighborhood.
Paige (Washington) is a single mother and therapist who makes upbeat social media videos with bromides like: “It all starts in childhood — parent and partner are just one letter off — how you got parented is how you get partnered.”
Her dad Edwin (Lindo) is loving but something of a scoundrel who has been in and out of prison for most of her life. That meant her childhood was a succession of foster homes and then, from the age of 8 to 18, she was taken in and raised by her father’s then-girlfriend, a stylish but far-from-maternal woman for whom Paige still harbors many resentments all these years later.
Reacclimating to the outside world and attempting to go straight, Edwin is sincere in his efforts to forge a relationship with his daughter and grandson. But Paige has been burned too many times to take these efforts seriously at first: “I’ve actually done fine without you,” she cheerily informs him.
McMillan (whose credits include “Mad Men”) and showrunner Yvette Lee Bowser (the creator of “Living Single”) share a sensibility that finds humor in life’s absurdities as well as all the psychological fault lines that appear whenever groups of people are bound together by shared histories. The series has a terrific snap to it, with an ear attuned to banter that touches on — and sometimes deflects — deeper issues. The combination works because it’s not glib, but a coping mechanism for both. “I was always there for you,” Edwin insists. “Yeah,” Paige replies amused, “if by ‘always’ you mean (automated voice): ‘This call is from a federal prison …’”
He’s street-wise. She’s a believer in fitting in. These are usually competing impulses, but they can be complementary as well and that fluctuating dynamic is what keeps things interesting.
Every so often Paige finds herself in conversation with her inner child — an actual child, dressed in identical outfits as her adult counterpart — who gives voice to all the anxieties she keeps mostly tamped down. Paige is the kind of person who looks like she has it together, sporting a bright confidence and a cute wardrobe of trim blazers and flare-legged jeans (the costumes are by Caroline B. Marx), but she’s falling apart inside. “I have a Volvo SUV and an 800 credit score but the universe is like: Your dad is (sleeping with) the same ho from 1992 and your boyfriend gives you fancy dinners instead of actual attention and emotional support.”
The supporting cast expands her world out but it’s conspicuous that she appears to have no Black friends or colleagues. Early on she jokes that the white foster family with whom she felt most stable and safe probably shaped her formative ideas about what love looks like, which is why she’s been dating a succession of white men. That changes when she meets her dad’s parole officer (Marque Richardson), a handsome and patient guy whose patience only extends so far when Paige dabbles with some self-sabotaging choices.
It’s a strong cast all around, including Jee Young Han as Paige’s foster sister/gal pal, Jordyn McIntosh as her blunt-talking inner child and Brenda Strong as her father’s ex-girlfriend, who is little more than an evil stepmother in Paige’s view.
Lindo always brings a swagger to his roles, and it’s not just his physical presence and loping gait, but something innate about Edwin — he’s a charmer extraordinaire — while also tapping into the character’s vulnerability, as well. Much of that comes to the fore when he, Paige and her son return to Edwin’s hometown in Alabama to see if he can locate his birth certificate. He’s caught in a vicious cycle of not being able to get an ID because he has no ID. The trip becomes an informal course in nigrescence — developing one’s Black identity — for his grandson (Faly Rakotohavana). Marla Gibbs, of “227″ and “The Jeffersons,” is a guest star in this episode, marking the second Hulu series she pops up in this week; the other is “History of the World, Part II.” At 91, she is booked and busy.
The real revelation here is Washington, who is looser than ever. When a line calls for sarcasm, there’s a buoyancy to it. It’s a performance that’s just this side of screwball and it makes me want to see what Washington could do with a role that’s full-on comedic. Here she’s straddling a line between light and heavy and she has terrific chemistry with Lindo, but just as interestingly, she has terrific chemistry with herself. So much of “UnPrisoned” is about Paige coming to grips with who she is and the experiences that shaped her. As distressing as that may be, there’s a levity to her outlook.
What’s that old saying? I’ll cry if I don’t laugh. The show’s creators take that to heart.
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'UNPRISONED'
3 stars (out of 4)
Rating: TV-MA
How to watch: On Hulu Friday
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