‘Power Book III: Raising Kanan’ Review: Season 4 Confirms That Starz’s Crime Drama Is One of TV’s Best Family Soap Operas

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Raquel “Raq” Thomas is unlike the common stereotype seen in TV crime bosses. She’s not a character who unexpectedly rises to power as a means of self-preservation, to pull her family out of financial hardship, or to reluctantly shoulder the questionable duties left by a deceased husband. Instead, she’s far from being a simple reinterpretation of the beloved antihero archetype popular in television during the early 2000s.

Raq is naturally ruthless, often seen in alluring peekaboo sweaters and form-fitting leather pants. She cannot tolerate a lack of power or control. Without hesitation, she will use violence, even pulling a trigger when necessary. Additionally, she uses her love as a manipulative tool, using it more to exert dominance than for nurturing purposes. Proceed with caution; her affection can be deadly, as her kisses are tainted with poison.

In the TV series, ‘Power Book III: Raising Kanan’, Raq, played captivatingly by Patina Miller, presides over an early 1990s crack cocaine empire in Jamaica, Queens. This series is a creation of Sascha Penn and serves as the third offshoot from the mega-franchise of Starz’s ‘Power’ Universe, produced by Courtney A. Kemp. Compared to other crime drama spinoffs, ‘Raising Kanan’, which premiered in 2014, offers a more detailed narrative and emotionally resonant storyline than one might expect. It can be seen as a drug-trade counterpart to ‘The Sopranos’.

Originally billed as a “YA version of New Jack City,” Raising Kanan has morphed over three seasons into a captivating family saga, delving into themes like lesbophobia and sibling rivalry just as deeply as it does the complexities of the illegal trade world. The first two episodes of Season 4 continue this pattern, revealing new layers and shifting dynamics within its vast cast. While at times resembling a telenovela in its frothy, conceptual nature and hasty, brutal dismissal of secondary female characters, the suspenseful, slow-burn series never undermines the genuine psychological depth behind its characters’ traumatic experiences with violence, betrayal, and moral decay.

In the series “Power” that wrapped up in 2020, I, as a viewer, followed Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson’s character, Kanan Stark. He was a menacing, vengeful drug lord seeking retribution, whose freedom from prison set off a Greek tragedy-like chain of events leading to the ruin of his own son. The spin-off series, “Raising Kanan”, delves deeper into this classical narrative, exploring his beginnings in the ’90s as a somewhat nerdy 15-year-old aiming for Stuyvesant High School, but who ultimately finds himself drawn into the drug world alongside his influential mother, Raq. (Fortunately, the catchy theme song composed by 50 Cent, as adult Kanan, makes up for the less compelling posthumous voiceover that introduces each episode.) Mekai Curtis skillfully portrays the conflicted teenage Kanan caught in a whirlwind of opposing forces.

Raq is portrayed as a skilled manipulator who professes great loyalty as a priority, especially from her brothers Marvin (London Brown) and Lou (Malcolm Mays), as well as her son. However, she frequently undermines their stability through self-serving tactics and power struggles that truly hurt them. All these actions are justified under the pretense of safeguarding them. As time passes, Kanan comes to terms with the truth that his mother, who has been his entire universe, is not merely a harmful individual to others but also deceives, betrays, and controls him as well.

A significant part of the series revolves around the deepening conflict between mother and son, as Kanan uncovers the sinister manipulations and lies of Raq, such as persuading him to commit an assassination against his own father. This revelation causes him to strive for independence in his business endeavors. In a tragic twist reminiscent of Shakespeare’s works, we observe Kanan transforming into someone as coldly calculating as the person he aims to avoid becoming.

Recently, I’ve discovered not many family dramas as engrossing as “Raising Kanan”. Remarkably, this show manages to be captivating despite its often grim tone. It’s like “Hamlet” in a way – death and despair are inevitable, yet they somehow stir the spirit. The series isn’t afraid to challenge conventions, even allowing justice to stagnate when other crime shows would strive for a more morally satisfying resolution. In the first season, an innocent character finds a suspicious vial, which in similar shows might predict a prolonged struggle with addiction. However, the outcome for that character took my breath away, leaving me genuinely astonished. In fact, I’ve gasped and even cheered multiple times while watching “Raising Kanan”. This is a series without heroes, but characters you find yourself supporting all the same.

The third season concludes with an unexpected scene: Raq’s antagonist/love interest Unique (played by Joey Bada$$) dramatically reappears, following the typical pattern of soap operas, standing over the lifeless body of his brother Ronnie (Grantham Coleman), who had attempted to kill him earlier in several episodes and abandoned him in the woods. Through Bada$’s compelling acting talent, Unique has evolved from a mere plot device in Season 1 to the most knight-like character on the show – a young man who endures Raq’s humiliations both in business and love.

The initial episode of Season 4 provides insight into how Unique managed to live after the fratricidal attempt, an event involving a suspicious veterinarian and a subordinate with whom he had unpaid debts. Following this incident, Unique has transformed into a grotesque version of his past self, bearing physical scars and displaying volatile mental health due to his traumatic brain injury.

Meanwhile, Raq grapples with the lingering emotional turmoil from her affair with Unique, whom she believes has perished. Simultaneously, her brothers strive to break free from her influence and carve out their own individual paths. Marvin, the hot-tempered eldest brother who struggles to suppress his violent tendencies despite his efforts, is secretly taking on odd jobs for Stefano Marchetti – a charming yet ominous low-level mobster played by Tony Danza. Lou, the troubled younger brother plagued by guilt and alcoholism, aspires to succeed as a hip-hop and R&B producer. With the assistance of a sharp record executive (Josh Pais) and a raw but promising new artist named B-Rilla (Pardison “Pardi” Fontaine), Lou is starting to make a mark in the music industry.

The heart and essence of the series, however, isn’t Kanan himself but his cousin and closest friend, Jukebox (portrayed by Hailey Kilgore on “Raising Kanan” and Anika Noni Rose previously on “Power”). Marvin’s daughter, she is the only individual who appears to love Raq without condition or burden. A young woman identifying as queer, she has endured various hardships, from the tragic loss of a first love to the harsh rejection by both her parents due to her sexual orientation and more masculine appearance. She harbors dreams of a singing career as a means of escaping her troubled family and the struggles of life on the Southside, yet these aspirations are constantly thwarted by the actions of her kin. In Season 4, joining the army only introduces fresh homophobic obstacles.

50 Cent sings about heartaches and disappointments at the start of each episode of “Raising Kanan”. Although Jukebox isn’t the main character, her story resonates deeply with those themes.

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2025-03-08 01:25