Opinion: ‘Demascus’ Forces Us to Confront Grief, Masculinity, and the Psyche of Black Men

Demascus dives into grief, Black masculinity, and the psyche, blending sci-fi, comedy, and self-discovery in a bold, thought-provoking series.

After being commissioned, filmed, and then shelved at AMC two years ago, the sci-fi comedy Demascus, created by playwright Terrance Arvelle Chisholm, found a new home at Tubi.

The six-episode series follows Demascus (Okieriete Onaodowan) as he enters his Jesus Year (33) with plans to become a martyr, while embarking on a quest not only to know himself but also to control the narrative in this mind-bending alternate reality.

In the pilot episode, which sets the stage for the journey ahead, we see Demascus in his first therapy session, where his therapist, Dr. Bonnetville (Janet Hubert), suggests he might be a good candidate for DIRT (Digital Immersive Reality Therapy), an experimental virtual-reality–based psychological treatment.

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The episode sets the stage for the series’ backdrop of Black men’s mental health and explores numerous themes related to both our conscious and subconscious impulses.

The recurring message woven into every episode is grief—and how it follows you when it senses unfinished business between you and the deceased. Each episode carries a longing and ache, tethered by unresolved grief born out of avoidance.

The series shows how grief can lead to isolation, emotional restraints, and a lack of meaningful connections. Demascus is forced to confront his commitment issues and sexual compatibility with his love interests, all while being anchored by a Black woman (Shekinah).

There’s a religious undertone throughout the series, and Episode 3, Anthology, ties it all together. A few scenes toward the end feel incongruent with the rest of the episode. What does seem intentional, however, is Demascus appearing as a priest in a scene with a female co-star that carries a strong sexual connotation..

Later, he searches for a loophole within his spiritual journey as he strives for a new level of martyrdom—only to engage in ungodly acts that he later atones for after learning the nun had been defrocked for her participation, while he remained unscathed.

Demascus is ahead of its time; smart, funny, unpredictable, and thought-provoking. It’s a journey into the Black man’s psyche, featuring guest appearances by Martin Lawrence and Lynn Whitfield, and guided by the music of Raphael Saadiq.

The show has questioning moments that seem to serve as a deliberate motif, which is likely why every episode feels like a stand-alone, marked by intentional dissonance that still coheres perfectly. Even so, this deliberate motif adds texture to the colorful supporting characters.

Showcasing how the same people reappear in our lives as multiple versions tailored to our needs is a tour de force on the writer’s part. Demascus is an ode to Black women and does an excellent job of illustrating how avoidance hinders our self-actualization and distorts our perception of reality.

It’s a reminder that there is no better life than the one you’re living, while also echoing how the desire to reshape our lives for what we deem “better” can lead us into a catatonic state of altered reality.