Atlanta Season 2 Ep. 7 Recap: 'Champagne Papi'

Photo: FX/Guy D'Alema

After exploring the depths of generational abuse and the connection between pain and artistic brilliance through the lense of classic horror in last week's unforgettable "Teddy Perkins," Atlanta does another 180 by following Van and her squad to a New Year's Eve bash that becomes a bust. Blame it on Champagne Papi.

Of course anyone who's on Instagram (or the 'gram) knows Champagne Papi is Drake's official username. Van certainly does, and thanks to her friend Candice, who got the hook up thanks to her shall we say nebulous connection with a tour barber named DJ, the entire crew--which includes their friends Tammi and the more straightlaced Nadine--is glammed up and ready to turn up.

Van in particular is on a mission to resuscitate her lifeless 'gram profile, which currently features "Lottie, Lottie, chicken, me, Lottie, Earn." Lottie aside, that's some bleak shit. That last name provides more motivation, especially after she sees another woman running her fingers through his hair on his page. Earn's name comes up again later at the party when Nadine, by now high as fuck thanks to a Gummy Tammi made sure she digested like it was a Flintstone's tablet, asks if she's thinking about him.

"He's out there living his life and I'm living mine," she replies, but what her tone really says is "I need to get this goddamn Drake selfie and post it so that lame-ass fasnact hating nigga knows my shit is poppin'! But lest we forget, this is Atlanta, and Van's plans not only go awry but are shown to be ultimately fruitless. First she tries to babysit Nadine then loses her. A stranger who claims to be Drake's nutritionist cousin appears friendly, but Van's creepy/clingy dude spidey sense perks up when he lets it slip he snuck into the party hours before it started.  She manages to escape that mess but gets lost in lower levels of the mansion, only to stumble upon Drake's Mexican "grandfather" (another identity swap, i.e. Black Justin Beiber?) who points to a calendar showing the end of December is crossed out for a European tour. Translation? Drake ain't here boo.

Was I the only one who was simulatenously not suprised yet kinda disappointed? Had this been virtually any other show, I would've called bullshit right away on Drake's pinky making an appearance, let alone the whole papi. It's a testament to the show's success and Donald Glover's clout in the industry that we as the audience could seriously consider the possiblity of a Drake cameo. Then again, is that very expectation a critique against us, a comment on the fact some Atlanta viewers (not me, 'cause I'm never, ever ever EVA, petty;), like J. Cole fans or Desus & Mero converts, wear their fandom like a badge of coolness, a way to separate themselves as the "in crowd," culturally stunting on the uninformed masses?

Shit, maybe I'm going too far down the rabbit hole. Let's save that for Nadine, who, as previously mentioned, is high as fuck, and runs into the exactly the right (or wrong) person you need to run into when in said state: Darius, who goes on a extended riff about how all of humanity is living in a simulation. While this certainly falls under the category of 'Darius conspiracy theory,' it's an apt metaphor for Van's night. She envisioned herself having a deep-ass conversation with and getting a selfie from Drake; but in reality her dressed ripped, Earn's still on her mind, Candice ditched the crew for T-Pain's NYE celebration, and the only Drake pic she can get is one with a life-sized cutout for $20. No wonder she tells Nadine to enjoy her high and forget about the rest.

Because to paraphrase Alfred, this social media shit is all about appearances.

Other Thoughts:

• While it was enjoyable, I'm not sure where "Champagne Papi" will rank among Atlanta's episodes. Don't get me wrong; it was nice to have a Van episode that didn't involve the dissolution of a childhood friendship, the end of a romance or loss of a job, but it didn't have the emotional charge of an episode like "Helen," or the "did that shit really just happen?!" plot twists of "Value." Though after the macarbe tour de force of "Teddy Perkins," anything would feel like a comedown. 

• Tammi took me out, especially during her confrontation with her actor bae Devyon Johnson's real life white bae, who argues maybe the reason she's with him is because their both good people who found each other. Tammi's like "bitch please," and proceeds to run down how she and other good black women don't have the luxury of waiting almost a decade for their man to come up from community theater to star, and how black men's affinity for white women doesn't usually work when the gender roles are reversed. "You don't see Brad Pitt trying to date Shonda Rhimes? No!" She even got a mouthed 'sorry' from Devyon out of it. 

• The shuttle driver jokes about it, but he really could've driven off with Van, her friends and all the other women if he wanted. A subtle jab at the things folks will do in the name of celebrity and stuntin'.

• Though he isn't present, everyone at the party is in a way "robbing" Drake--of his fame, the lifestyle associated with his persona, his personal space (if that's even his house)--in order to live out/sell a fantasy about themselves to others. 

• The musical cues were particularly on point, especially Kelela's "Jupiter," which played while Nadine and Darius were out at the pool ruminating on simulation. Interesting the show would have said discussion with Kelela playing, as the singer's "Frontline" video is based on The Sims. 

Those One Liners 'Tho:

• "I know Drake's chef Guillermo, from the glorious days of pick up soccer."
• "I got an IUD to block a K-I-D."
• "This edible ain't kickin' in fast enough for me to enjoy this thot-a-thon."
• "Put that in your condom and fuck it."