Flawlessly-on-fleek blockbuster Empire didn’t so much burst onto screens in 2015 as strut into your living room, pump up the Timbaland and spray Cristal all over your sofa.
Call it a hip-hop soap, call it the black Dynasty, call it groundbreaking, but above all Lee Daniels’ everyday tale of record company shenanigans is a ray of sunshine in E4’s weeknight TV schedule.
In season one Lucious Lyons (Terrence Howard), the daddy of the manor, thought he was dying, and embarked on a Shakespearian mission to find out which of his three sons he should bequeath his empire to. Would he choose sweet gay genius, Jamal, bad-boy rapper, Hakeem, or Andre, who gives good spreadsheet? By season two, Lucious found out he was stayin’ alive, but the glorious drama didn’t cease.
It’s Lucious’s ex-wife Cookie (“That’s my name; take a bite”) who really rules Empire. Taraji P Henson’s goddess of a babymama swaggered out of jail after 17 years, ready to stir up trouble in the finest furs and heels known to woman. No one makes an entrance like Cookie. If there’s a pivotal scene, she’ll strut into the centre of it. She’s gifted with the best lines. “You want Cookie’s nookie? Ditch the bitch,” she tells Lucious when he’s two-timing her with his fiancee. Her explanation of how they met? “He tried to out-dance me, girl. Next thing I know, we got three sons.”
If you miss an episode, it doesn’t matter because the characters often carry on oblivious to plot developments. Take Lucious’ prison sentence: off he went to the slammer, where he ran into Max Beesley and was guarded by Ludacris, but a couple of episodes later he was a free man. Jamal had a secret daughter in the first season, who was soon despatched elsewhere. And Cookie received a head in a box, which scared the sass out of her for all of five minutes.
Who needs a traditional plot when you’ve got flashbacks of Kelly Rowland as little Lucious’ mum and guest appearances from Courtney Love as Elle Dallas, whose songs inspired Cookie throughout her 17 years in the big house? Oh, and Jennifer Hudson, Mary J Blige and Alicia Keys. Not to mention Snoop Dogg, Gladys Knight, Ne-Yo and Rita Ora, who appear as themselves.
Much has been made of the groundbreaking nature of Empire. It shouldn’t be such a novelty to see black people calling the shots or the non-size-zero Gabourey Sidibe enjoying a hot sex scene on mainstream TV. That’s not to say white people aren’t allowed on Empire. They’re just not key players. You might find a geeky one lurking in the boardroom or a shifty one plotting a hostile takeover – step forward, Mimi Whiteman (Marisa Tomei).
Empire might have its serious side, from Andre struggling with his bipolar disorder to Bunkie being bumped off, but it’s at its best when it’s busting out a music video moment or being downright funny. A celebration at the record label offices doesn’t warrant a pipe of Pringles and a plastic cup of warm cava, but semi-naked women dancing on the boardroom table. The Lyons never forget where they came from, though, reminded by flashbacks of a tougher life and that time Lucious and Cookie wrote mega-hit You’re So Beautiful in their tiny home. They’ve still got love for the streets, even though they prefer a massive house with a walk-in closet these days. As Cookie says: “The streets ain’t made for everybody. That’s why they made sidewalks.” Long may the queen of Empire reign.
