Swarm is like the shag haircut in reverse—the party is in the front, and business blossoms in the back. Prime Video’s newest series is transparently fun and quirky, presenting the gripping saga of Dre, a twenty-something Houston native, whose childlike obsession with Ni’Jah, a Beyoncé-like pop star, is brass-tacks brutal. Not until the penultimate episode of this Donald Glover-produced thriller, which debuts today (and raises the stakes on his groundbreaking series Atlanta’s surreality), do we witness a solemn interrogation, in the manner of run-of-the-mill whodunnits, of the horrors inflicted at the service of fandom. That said, virtually all seven episodes are like one outrageous orgy of scathing reads informed by scintillating suspense. It’s like Zola crossed with Kill Bill—if The Bride got intel on her opponents from bloodthirsty sycophants.Though nothing about the series feels conventional, attacks against opinionated types by staunch loyalists are all too common nowadays. If your generation’s letter matches the number o… Click below to read the full story from Esquire
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