Quincy Isaiah plays Magic Johnson in “Winning Time.”
picture: high pressure

Since the advent of the poetry, short stories, and writings of Henry Dumas, there has been a specter on the periphery of American art and literature—African Surrealism. A hallmark of this genre is the self-awareness of readers, authors, and fictional characters that the world they inhabit is uneven. The term derives from surrealism and is defined as humor based on logical detours. winning time Blurring fact and fiction by the razor’s edge that exists in between, the recent arouse controversy. As a show about one of the greatest, mostly BThe lack of teams in NBA history, winning time A chance to join a classic on the complexity of BLack of identity, recently mainstreamed through shows like this subway, Atlanta, a visual by Kara Walker, and a film by Jordan Peele. There’s a hint of surrealism in the latest HBO series—characters speak directly to the audience, animated sequences air every episode, and nearly every scene features surreal graphics. While the show is decidedly surreal in style, it lacks an Afrocentric perspective.

winning time The sharpest turn enters the left area with white characters behind the steering wheel. In the first season, it was primarily John C. Reilly’s Jerry Buss who broke the fourth wall and brought us viewers into the conversation. That’s not to say Bass has nothing to say. His make-or-break gamble set the Lakers into their era. But we’ve been down this road before. There’s no need to fill the waking quota with shows centered on fictional marginalized characters. We got enough information from Adidas and Gillette’s corporate ads.

The shame behind this wasted opportunity is that the show could have made The Magician and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar the incarnation of the show’s surreal adventure. Seeing and hearing what they think would be a more exciting narrative as they play the game on the court while playing the political game off the court. But unfortunately, those moments are few and far between. world these BLack of people living on absurd borders. Magicians, in particular, always feel out of place, forced to be at odds with the league and commissioners and other BLack of stars, especially his white rookie opponent Larry Bird. Magic’s working-class roots are often used as a source of difference. The NBA is a white man’s game, and the Lakers’ players are unwilling pawns. Yet they must navigate the ins and outs of life as if it all meant something, a hallmark of surrealism.But no matter how ridiculous the situational moment winning time Possibly, very real racism and the trap of fame lurk around every corner because its BMissing characters.

Bass was given the omnipresent ability to travel through freezing time in the intro of episode 8, “California Dreams,” telling a story about not giving up Briton Roger Bannister to break the one-mile world record. Allegory of the story. Bass did so while walking through Staples Stadium, freezing time for both players and fans. The story of Bannister making history is a wacky one for these brave Lakers who want to make history. So why not let magic tell it? As the main star of the series, Riley tops the box office and is the Shakespeare image of the story, but perhaps it was a creative mistake. With all the controversy surrounding the accuracy of the core cast, having Magic tell the story from his point of view would be an even more exciting risk.

Consider this perspective—a poor, working-class African-American who emerges from his humble upbringing in Michigan as the missing piece of the LA fairy tale. It will reposition the show around a POV perspective of magic, free from coercion and without neoliberal virtue signals. The show does a great job of drawing each character in grayscale, showing the qualities that make them both NBA heroes and villains for their own happiness. However, it could have been more. That’s not to say Reilly isn’t as engaging as Buss. In this episode, his three-pronged relationship with his disappointed daughter, dying mother and her nurse is the hallmark of the series. The late-night car scene between Reilly and his mother’s nurse (Natalia Cordova-Buckley) hovers between tenderness and lust, revealing just how deep his Oedipus complex goes. He wet his mother’s shirt in tears as she was about to die, then unbuttoned the nurse’s blouse and sucked on her nipples.

We get brief moments when Magic takes control of the narrative, like when he complains to the camera about not being supported by his All-Star teammates. But they are brief, nowhere near the majesty or length of Bass’ monologue. Magic is a guy too funny to be supervised to the sidelines, neither the real version nor this simulation. It’s Winning Time’s biggest mistake, giving Bass its most personal and introspective moments while spreading the breadcrumbs to the rest of the expanded cast. To be fair, how many of us can understand Playboy Buzz’s millionaire shenanigans? It’s the tragic arc of magic, grounded in everyday good and evil, and feels more familiar.

After all, isn’t the NBA a star-driven league?