P-Valley (a.k.a Pussy Valley) premiered July 12th on Starz with a whisper campaign already in progress. What many thought would be -at best- a higher class episodic version of the Player's Club was instead, a vividly nuanced world built on the Mississippi Delta region's nightlife and strip clubs wrapped in a crime-novel-worthy mystery. 

P-Valley is far more than just a look beyond the pole and into the dressing room. It's the slow burning - gorgeously lit - journey of women on a hustle to fund (or save) their own lives.  This show has LEVELS. Just as soon as one twists unravels there's a turn to keep it unpredictable. 

When Film Noir and Strip Culture Collide...

Creator and Showrunner Katori Hall (Tina: The Tina Turner Musical) assembled an all-women team of directors and writers to develop her stage play into a dynamic neon-drenched drama. P-Valley pours the moral ambiguity and cynicism of sex work into a gritty film noir mold. The end result is a intricate plot-driven by the titillating and traumatic (with a side of ambition) all set to a mood-altering blend of the blues and trap music. And with that decision, Delta Noir was born. With every reveal from inside The Pynk, the more riveting each club performer's subplot becomes.   

The Pynk 

The writer's room gave a subtle hat-tip to noir archetypes, like the girl-next-door, the femme fatale, and the good-bad girl crafting characters that subvert narrative expectations with a hefty dose of existential angst. The savvy story direction and spot-on casting infuses each character with trope-defying authenticity. The women of P-Valley are the living embodiment of "classy, bougie, ratchet, sassy, moody, and nasty" in the best and most savage of ways (Megan would be proud). 

These aren't, however, hollow caricatures as is often the case when a story centers Black women. The P-Valley writers built these women with depth. Each capable and fully embracing their agency.

Crafty writing shows them leveraging their personal power at work then juxtaposes those moments with the complicated personal lives each struggles with daily. Each theme-driven episode runs the gambit of family issues, domestic violence, colorism, racism, betrayal, and other oft mishandled issues festering within portrayals of the Black community. Hrere, every story arc's told with an eye always towards honesty and handled with a deft touch.

P-Valley constantly up-ends presumptions about what "kind" of woman dances for a living (and why). 

But, this Delta Noir set to destigmatize more than just stripping. Although it definitely accomplishes that with wit and gritty honesty. So, expect P-Valley to put subtly center body-positivity, addiction, PTSD, toxic mother-daughter dynamics right next to deconstructing masculinity, and embracing one's sexuality. The apologeticness of it all is gratifying.

Like In Any Good Noir Drama, Trouble Comes To The Delta... 

Life in a small town is never simple. And in Chucalissa, the same people throwing dollars until dawn at The Pynk on Saturday are seated in the pews of churches on Sunday. The hypocrisy is real. 

Club owner Uncle Clifford (Nathaniel Nicco Annan) needs revenue streams to ensure The Pynk survives. He's determined to preserve his family land and see his club thrive. So he plays the game. Clifford's (and The Pynk's) place in the community (and importance to the plot) is constantly evolving. Because thankfully, in P-Valley, The Pynk doesn't exist in a vacuum.

This former(ish) plantation town is due a massive face-lift. Enter the mysterious Andre Watkins (Parker Sawyers) and his client gobbling up real estate all around town. Watkins believes he's on the cusp of breathing new life (and jobs) into the area. But his interests are certain to clash with Uncle Clifford's.