Black Ops opens with a mundane slice of life that could easily be mistaken for a critique of modern bureaucratic life. Dom and Kay, two PCSOs, are doing the bare minimum: handing out leaflets and engaging in petty tasks that are far removed from actual law enforcement.
There’s a sense of weariness, almost as if they’ve become cogs in a machine too large to notice them. In this dull routine, they are an embodiment of those low-level workers, caught in a system that offers little room for advancement or excitement. Their lives seem predictable, at least until an unexpected twist pulls them into an entirely new world.
The story quickly escalates when DI Clinton Blair recruits them for an undercover mission to infiltrate a notorious drug gang. What’s jarring isn’t just the shift in stakes but the absurdity of the situation: Dom and Kay—who couldn’t be more ill-suited for such a task—are thrust into a dangerous world of crime.
DI Blair, a man aware of the limitations of his own department, chooses them not for their competence but because they are the only Black officers available, a bitter reflection on the systemic issues within law enforcement.
This set-up forces a collision of two realms—the incompetence of our leads with the ruthlessness of the drug gang they must infiltrate. The mission, meant to be covert, only serves to expose the flaws in a system that constantly underestimates those caught in its cracks.
Here, Black Ops subtly critiques the intersections of race, power, and institutional failure. The comedic elements that arise from this juxtaposition are layered with uncomfortable truths that elevate the stakes, leaving you to wonder how long the farce can last before it all unravels.
Character Dynamics: The Intersection of Naiveté and Disillusionment
In Black Ops, Dom stands out as a portrait of weariness—a character whose view of life feels hardened by an existence where mediocrity reigns supreme. A PCSO by default, her cynicism seems to reflect a broader disillusionment with societal systems that, at best, neglect her, and at worst, demand too much for too little.
Her reluctance to take her role seriously is evident in every sarcastic remark, every interaction where she lets her jaded outlook slip. But, as the series progresses, there’s an undeniable shift. This isn’t a sudden change, but a gradual peeling away of the protective layer she has built to survive.
The mission, absurd and ill-fitting as it is, pushes Dom to confront herself in ways she never expected. There’s no clean-cut hero’s arc here—just a woman who starts to grapple with what it means to act when life has long taught her to expect failure.
Kay, on the other hand, represents a stark contrast: a naïve idealist, deeply rooted in his faith and full of optimism that often clouds his judgment. His religious background makes him an easy mark for the “good guy” persona, but it’s a persona built on convenience rather than true conviction. Initially, he clings to the notion that everything will somehow work out without realizing that life often demands more than blind optimism.
As the operation escalates, Kay is forced to shed some of this naïveté. His growth is not linear, and certainly not graceful—there’s a kind of painful self-awareness that emerges, pushing him into situations that challenge his preconceptions. If Dom’s evolution is slow and reluctant, Kay’s is jarring but necessary, a collision between faith and reality.
Blair, their handler, fits the role of a mentor, though his motivations are far more complicated than any simple guidance. He isn’t just a leader trying to steer his team to success—he’s someone who sees the cracks in the system and, rather than challenge them, works around them.
His recruitment of Dom and Kay is a calculated move that exposes his own frustrations with a police system that views people like him as disposable. The decision is cynical, yes, but it also highlights the depth of institutional bias.
Then, there’s Tevin, the gang leader. Tevin is an unsettling figure who mirrors the moral ambiguity at play throughout the series.
He’s a man shaped by the harsh realities of a world where survival sometimes necessitates morally questionable choices. His role forces the audience to question where the true line between good and bad lies, and whether it’s even a line worth holding onto.
Tone: The Fine Line Between Farce and Danger
Black Ops gleefully occupies the space between absurdity and danger, with a tone that swings wildly between the two. The show’s ability to inject humor into the world of undercover operations highlights a particular kind of comedy I’d call “laugh-through-the-cracks.”
Dom and Kay, clearly unsuitable for any real undercover work, offer a front-row seat to the chaos of two people thrown into a situation they neither understand nor control. They stumble their way through a dangerous drug gang like a pair of fumbling clowns, yet, beneath the surface, there’s a tension that makes their every mistake feel like a potential death sentence.
The comedy is built on the absurdity of the situation—the idea that these two have been sent into a criminal underworld they can barely comprehend.
Yet this isn’t a world where humor can shield the characters from real danger. The absurdity of their actions—like attempting to deal drugs with zero street credibility—is always shadowed by the looming threat of exposure.
It’s a strange juxtaposition: two people completely out of their depth in a high-stakes environment. The comedic moments are genuine, but they never strip away the tension that builds throughout. There’s always this sense that at any moment, one wrong move will expose them to the very real dangers of the world they’ve stumbled into.
The balance of comedy and thriller elements is particularly effective during the drug deal sequences. As the stakes increase and the tension rises, the absurdity of their incompetence adds layers to the danger.
The humor doesn’t diminish the stakes—it sharpens them, making every failure feel more catastrophic. It’s this unusual combination of comedy and suspense that gives the series its unpredictable edge, where laughter never quite drowns out the ever-present threat hanging over the characters.
The Humor: A Dance of Missteps and Meaning
Black Ops operates on a comedic rhythm driven by missteps and mismatched expectations. The show leans heavily into slapstick and physical comedy, making Dom and Kay’s blunders a constant source of humor.
These are not your typical undercover agents—far from it. Instead, they’re two people who should never have been put in this position. Their fumbling attempts to navigate the world of crime feel like something out of a farce, where every awkward move draws laughter, but it’s never just a joke.
There’s something darker at play here—watching them struggle is akin to watching people wrestle with a system that is designed to fail them. From Kay’s complete lack of street smarts to Dom’s sarcastic rejection of everything around her, their physical failures are constantly laid bare. The show plays with this theme, turning their incompetence into both a comedic device and a subtle commentary on the absurdity of the situations they find themselves in.
Then there’s the wordplay, where wit often masks the fear and confusion beneath the surface. The exchanges between Dom and Kay during high-stakes moments are crafted with sharp precision.
These aren’t just jokes for the sake of humor; they reveal something deeper about their characters—how humor becomes their armor, and how they use it to shield themselves from the chaos of their reality. Dom’s sharp tongue provides a foil to Kay’s more naïve outlook, creating a dynamic where the humor often stems from the dissonance between their personalities, as well as the tension surrounding their dangerous mission.
Cultural and racial references bring an added layer to the show’s humor, reflecting the realities of being Black in a predominantly white institution like the police force.
Dom and Kay frequently find themselves at odds with the ignorance around them, often using humor to cope with the biases they face. Kay’s awkwardness in drug-dealing situations, for example, highlights not just his inexperience but the clash between his sheltered, religious background and the world he’s thrust into.
Meanwhile, Dom’s biting sarcasm often cuts through the racial dynamics of the workplace, where she constantly faces the subtle condescension of her colleagues. The humor here is less about making fun of them and more about using humor to expose the limitations of a system that sees them as less than capable due to their race.
Situational comedy plays out when the stakes get highest, and the contrast between Dom and Kay’s incompetence and the looming danger is a perfect storm of tension and humor.
Key moments, like Kay’s misunderstanding of criminal lingo or Dom’s sarcastic comments about the absurdity of the operation, underscore the deep disconnect between them and the world they’re trying to navigate.
Their blunders feel like cracks in the very foundation of the world around them, where everything seems set up to expose them, but in a way that’s just a little too funny to ignore.
Writing and Direction: Crafting Chaos with Precision
The writing in Black Ops is a fascinating mix of voices, led by Ikumelo and Animashaun, whose involvement as co-creators gives the series an authentic sense of unpredictability. Their ability to blend crime thriller elements with comedy without losing either aspect is impressive.
The result is a show that balances a looming sense of danger with sharp humor, creating a rhythm where one never completely overshadows the other. This isn’t a show where comedy merely punctuates the tension; rather, the comedy and the threat are interwoven, each feeding off the other.
The writing is often rooted in character-driven absurdity, allowing Dom and Kay’s incompetence to be both a comedic device and a critical commentary on the world they’re trying to navigate. Their mistakes aren’t just funny—they’re necessary, serving as a mirror to a system built on flaws.
Pacing in Black Ops never allows the tension to slacken, even when the humor is at its peak. There’s a constant push-pull between absurdity and danger, with the stakes always palpable but never too overwhelming.
The show knows when to slow down and when to escalate, creating just enough space for humor to breathe before the plot pulls you back into its darker corners. The plot twists that punctuate the narrative are timely, keeping the story fresh and unpredictable, with each one revealing new layers of complexity while still allowing for a comedic payoff.
The writing keeps you on your toes, ensuring that even in its lightest moments, the tension never fully dissipates.
Performances: Comedy, Chaos, and Chemistry
Gbemisola Ikumelo, as Dom, stands out with a sharp, often deadpan delivery that highlights her brilliant comedic timing. Yet, there’s more to her performance than just sarcasm. Beneath Dom’s cynicism, Ikumelo layers subtle complexity.
Her dry humor reveals a character frustrated by systemic failures, but there’s a quiet growth in her performance as the show progresses. The shift is less about a dramatic arc and more about her grudging acceptance of the chaos around her—she doesn’t change overnight, but she learns how to navigate a world that constantly tries to place her in a box.
Hammed Animashaun’s portrayal of Kay is a study in contrast. His charm is rooted in a naïve optimism that’s almost touching—until the absurdity of the situation slaps him in the face. Animashaun’s physical comedy becomes the perfect foil to Ikumelo’s more grounded performance.
Kay’s fumbling attempts to fit into this world, his bewildered reactions to everything from drug-dealing to crime syndicates, make him a sympathetic figure. While his character often drifts toward the comedic, Animashaun’s nuanced portrayal keeps Kay from becoming a simple punchline.
The dynamic between Ikumelo and Animashaun drives the show, their partnership evolving from simple antagonism to something much more grounded in shared experience. It’s this gradual shift that becomes the emotional undercurrent, balancing the show’s comedic and darker elements. Their back-and-forth—whether biting or tender—anchors the chaotic world around them.
Supporting performances also provide a solid foundation. Ariyon Bakare’s portrayal of DI Clinton Blair adds depth to the character, with his calm authority and quiet disillusionment standing in contrast to Dom and Kay’s antics.
Akemnji Ndifornyen as Tevin balances menace with humanizing moments, giving the gang leader a depth that makes him more than just a typical villain. Supporting actors like Joanna Scanlan and Zoë Wanamaker contribute to the richness of the ensemble, each adding layers of humor and tension to the narrative.
Cultural and Social Themes: Laughing Through the Cracks of Inequality
Black Ops uses its undercover operation as a mirror, reflecting the layers of systemic racism embedded within the police force.
The character of DI Clinton Blair serves as a critique of the institution he works for, embodying the contradictions of a system that constantly overlooks or underestimates people like him. He recruits Dom and Kay, not because they are the best candidates but because they are the only Black officers available to infiltrate a Black gang.
This decision highlights the systemic flaws that push people of color into roles they are unqualified for, not because of merit but due to racial dynamics. Clinton’s own disillusionment with the system is clear, and while he plays the game, his character offers a glimpse into the limits of institutional power and the subtle ways it perpetuates exclusion.
The series also explores race through humor, using moments of cultural misunderstanding to address deeper societal issues without becoming preachy. While there are moments where racism is overt, much of the humor comes from more subtle stereotypes or biases that color the protagonists’ experiences.
Kay’s awkwardness, especially when attempting to fit into the world of crime, exposes how society often places people of color into roles defined by racial expectations. The humor here is uncomfortable, designed to make the audience reflect on these stereotypes while also laughing at their absurdity. This balance allows Black Ops to address inequality in a way that doesn’t feel forced but still holds a mirror up to the world we live in.
The Review
Black Ops Season 1
Black Ops cleverly balances humor with darker themes, offering a biting critique of systemic racism while never shying away from absurdity. The chemistry between Ikumelo and Animashaun anchors the series, elevating both the comedic and more serious moments. Though the show falters at times in fully realizing its potential, it remains a refreshing, thought-provoking take on modern policing. Its unique tone and character dynamics make it a standout, even as it occasionally stumbles.
PROS
- Strong performances from the lead actors, especially Gbemisola Ikumelo and Hammed Animashaun.
- Unique blend of humor and thriller elements that keeps the audience engaged.
CONS
- Occasional pacing issues that slow the narrative.
- Some humor may not resonate with all viewers, especially when addressing racial themes.
