We’re still in it. Can perception be clear enough to produce a story or stories that reflects the immediacy of what is happening? Or do we need to have it finished and behind us in order to really make the story work?
Love in the Time of Corona showed no, especially when trying to keep the subject matter light. Staged showed yes but only with a clear singular objective.
And then from watching Social Distance, I stand corrected and grateful. This show is proof that diverse stories with diverse people showing the spectrum of experiences, and that an anthology’s each episode with its own singular objective can come together and really nail it! (As a whole even if some episodes were not as strong as others.)
Maybe it also has something to do with the level of talent involved.
Jenji Kohan’s producer credits go back to the mid-1990s, including all kinds of television genre titles such as Mad About You and Gilmore Girls, to the exciting world of Netflix with Orange is the New Black and GLOW.
With her experience and talent at the helm making critical and audience hits, Social Distance achieved its attempt at strong storylines, attracting respected performers, and being able to make the self-taping, Zoom filming, and even Nest security camera footage look just as likely to be utilized even before Covid.
As time moves on, and Covid-Cinema moves along with it, we’ll see even more films and shows but Social Distance will likely hold a top-tier place for more screenings and further study.
For all of the complaints I had about both Love in the Time of Corona and Staged, I do not have with Social Distance: living alone, being sick from Covid, social media’s role and trying to connect virtually, a funeral for someone who passed, the stress and anxiety of losing a job’s paycheck and health insurance, having to continue working in a high-risk space, etc. The episodes’ writing also has a way of including the Covid keywords and tropes more naturally into their conversations instead of just dropping them in.
Despite 6 directors for 8 episodes (Anya Adams directing the first and last episodes, bookending the anthology’s narratives in style and importance), what ties them together are their opening credits: a montage of home video scenes of people gathering in normal times representing the episode’s theme from the last 70 years: fathers taking care of children in strollers or at the park, teenagers on their landlines or iPhones, people in DC at marches, funeral processions, etc.. The pandemic is an unprecedented world-wide event not experienced since in 100 years. We can have hope that we’ll adjust to this new-normal, but also from knowing even the Spanish Flu became history. The effects of living through that pandemic turned into what we experienced afterwards through the remaining 20th century and early 21st century. So eventually our new-normal will become a return to the previous normal?
I’ve re-watched each episode at least twice to hopefully write as best as can about its focus, its emotional pull, differentiate intention from execution under production limitations, and appreciate certain choices and tone. I don’t think this post can exact every nuance, and maybe from more time between additional screenings, I can pull out additional details. But one certain thing is that I am inviting conversation. Please let me know your thoughts from viewing this show and this post by commenting below.
Delete All Future Events
Played by Mike Colter (the Luke Cage) Ike is a recovering alcoholic who had to close his barbershop business for quarantine/lockdown, and whose significant other just broke up with him. Not only is the first scene on a Zoom-room full of people having an online AA meeting, but the ‘camera’ slowly closes in on Ike’s box, making it fill the screen – showing that among all those struggling with sobriety AND the pandemic in that meeting, this episode will tell Ike’s personal story. As he shares his feelings of frustration, loneliness and uncertainty with the group, it’s probably one of the very few moments and spaces aside from talking with his sponsor that he trusts those listening aren’t judging him.
Ike bides his time trying to keep his mind distracted from taking a drink by chatting with friends and going thru a news feed. Giving Dan a video-chat call, there’s a divide in their conversation. They haven’t caught up in a while (and neither has Ike caught up with the others in their group). Dan is hearing for the first time in months Ike has been sober, putting a slight spin on their recent shared memories of being too drunk. And Ike learns that Dan’s new girlfriend and her son have moved in with him for quarantine. Dan and Ike’s reactions are supportive of each other but they immediately realize they are experiencing very different quarantines. You can see in Ike a touch of surprise and jealousy. A few Instagram profiles later, he has seen his ex-girlfriend’s recently posted pictures with the guy she’s quarantining with, and Ike makes a call to his sponsor Gene. They talk it out, and Ike feels confident enough to get “creative” and make the most of his quarantine too.
But eventually the insecurities, uncertainty, frustration and jealousy all resurface; especially when some Insta-Followers make fun of Ike’s intentionally humorous plant-bae posts. Perhaps the joke wears itself out but for someone under stress to stay even-keeled, the comments hurt even more. And one morning he obviously wakes up after a stupor to find dozens of missed calls, texts and comments of concern. Watching a video he drunkenly posted of himself yelling at the plant and emotionally falling apart, he (and we) realizes even more that sobriety is a journey with some setbacks in normal times and more difficult when feeling idle in isolation.
Quarantining is a roller-coaster of high and low moments. Doing it alone, forces you to figure out what you need in those moments. You can’t just go to your room to see a friendly face and get a hug. You have to ask yourself: is it too late or too early or just the right time to reach out to someone who will pick up your call or return your text? Or can you go online, scroll through your news feed, and hope you’ll see posts that won’t make you sad, angry, or jealous? If you are hungry, it’s you and only you who again has to decide what to cook or what to order. And those continuously required sole-made decisions can be tiring. As Ike’s story is representative of those who are struggling with addiction but not as bad as what others on harder substances may have been facing. Thank goodness Ike didn’t drink enough to need paramedics, or that he was out of his home causing harm to himself or to others.
A Celebration of the Human Life Cycle
Miguel Villareal had the responsibility caring for his elderly father Julio (for some months or years?). Perhaps the funeral itself had taken place already, informally with only Miguel to handle it, but the memorial for family to gather over Zoom is during quarantine. His daughters Paola and Olivia join from their mother’s house (showing that Miguel and their mother may be separated or divorced – especially emphasized when he needs his tone corrected so not to appear insensitive or ungrateful for something she did). Miguel’s sister Reina joins with her husband and teenage son. Then Miguel and Reina’s obviously younger brother Santi (played by Scandal alum Guillermo Diaz) joins in late, wearing his old formal catering vest with shorts. Taking one for the older generation, is Uncle Tony who has trouble unmuting his mic, even checking under the desk to fix it.
Of course, it’s an inherently sad occasion to mourn a loved one, but as Miguel wanted the memorial to be a celebration of life, they can’t quite get into the program itinerary he’s set out for them. They have their own stories, memories, and perceptions among themselves and for how to honor their father. Old hurts and arguments (re)surface. The three siblings keep alternating in the dynamic of 2 against 1. Reina and Miguel are upset with Santi for being late and his blasé attitude. Then Reina and Santi get Miguel’s wrath of resentment for leaving him with Dad while they went about their regular lives.
It’s doubtful the girls would have been able to play their recorder piece. And not only is their service shockingly interrupted by the glow-in-the-dark twerking trio, but multiple times by the Zoom’s host, Dean of the funeral home. It’s one thing to be ‘video-bombed’ but it’s another to be unnecessarily interjected multiple times by the staff-member.
When the chaos settles, and Uncle Tony has somehow fixed his unmute button, an important quality of Julio’s identity is finally spoken about openly by the one person who can phrase it as it needed to be.
Uncle Tony is not really their uncle or Julio’s brother, but he’s been such a close friend of the family as Julio’s best friend and secret lover for so long, that Miguel and his daughters, Reina, and Santi, can call him Uncle, or Tio. Played by the veteran performer Miguel Sandoval (from Clear and Present Danger, Blow, Medium, and recently on Station 19) Tony makes a beautiful speech to express how much he loved Julio and especially how much Julio loved his children. Maybe Julio didn’t show them his appreciation and understanding when he was alive, but he would have confided such emotions to Tony. His words bring the siblings together. They share a nice laugh and agree to celebrate Julio’s life and each other properly in-person when they can; at Julio’s favorite diner that Miguel hated.
This Latinx is rightfully portrayed like any other family with its own secrets, conflicts, and ways of communicating. They air out their gripes and reunite just as easily. The Villareal Family are forced to experience the universal human event of memorializing a beloved person without the usual in-person commiseration. So many families during the pandemic have had to face this same situation of holding funerary services (and weddings, and other similar milestones) with socially-distant protocols and in virtual spaces to still have some solace among each other.
And we could all together/go out on the ocean
Imani is a special care nurse hired by Temple University English/Poetry professor Marion to take care of her mother Earnestine at the nursing home. Because the schools had been ordered to shut down in-person classes, working parents were forced to make quick decisions about childcare. But in Imani’s case, she didn’t have acceptable options, and made the drastic risky but last resort choice to keep an eye on the security system cameras and audio in her apartment to still watch over elementary school aged daughter Michelle. Being however far away physically from home while working means that not only can’t she rush to Michelle’s side if something bad happens, but she can’t watch Michelle while also handling something for Earnestine too; so her attentions are averted back-and-forth.
As Michelle is young, she doesn’t understand that you can’t
put tinfoil in the microwave and you can’t go read your book on the roof alone.
Imani is clearly not proud of having to leave her child without another adult
there but she’s been forced into that difficult circumstance. And her dilemma
faces even higher stakes of having to choose between her job or unemployment
with approaching lockdown. Earnestine’s nursing home will close to visitors and
supplemental caregivers, unless they take a cot in the makeshift dormitory (by
vending machines). Michelle can’t stay with a neighbor or any of Imani’s family
but still has to go to virtual school.
Imani had been looking into what other options she might have even with sacrifice, like trying to get in touch with Unemployment Dept.. Even at that early stage, would she have been eligible to collect unemployment benefits?
Well, from doing a little research of my own, as Temple University (per Marion’s sweatshirt) is located in Philadelphia, then from going to the Pennsylvania Department of Unemployment FAQ page, it’s possible that Imani could have! As of March 27, 2020 the CARES Act created Pandemic Unemployment Assistance which are benefits paid to an “individual who cannot attend work or telework and who is the primary caregiver of a child or other person in their household who is unable to attend school or another facility (like daycare centers) that is closed as a direct result of the Covid-19 public health emergency”. As to whether or not her received weekly benefits would be as much as her salary, I cannot say. However, if Marion fired Imani then it should probably change her eligibility status and may not be able to collect. Regardless, the loss of steady income could result in serious dire financial consequences – for Imani or someone in her similar situation.
Despite Earnestine’s speech generating device’s exclamation of groans and complaints, she’s the one who comes up with a suggestion that helps solve all of their problems, even if it’s going to cause sacrifice and inconvenience. Imani keeps her job and salary by residing in the nursing home’s dormitory for supplemental care givers but Michelle will stay in Marion’s home so that she has a responsible adult supervisor.
Marion is the independent single woman with “tenure” and not one for motherhood. She is not experienced enough or comfortable enough knowing how to take care of Michelle with an affectionate or compassionate temperament.
This episode’s choice to flip-the-script is a rather unique take on teleworking from home and parenting. It’s difficult enough having to figure out how to educate “the youth” online for the first time AND be a parent for the first time. Marion’s livelihood may not be in jeopardy but caring for Michelle (or any child) is not without its own frustration and learning curve. The story is not judging her for this, but rather to put her on equal ground with Imani; having to multi-task between a job and a child.
Focusing on Michelle’s experience too, we can see that she’s as exasperated as her mother and Marion. To suddenly go from school and after-care then to being left alone at home and then to some stranger’s house without any constant supervision, with rules she can recite but not understand….it’s all A LOT for someone so young! It’s understandable she’s bored or frustrated or impatient, and wants attention from anyone who is near her. Thankfully also in this story, she’s not put in any real dangerous situation like going to the bodega to get a snack and then a stranger follows her home.
Zero Feet Away
Marco and Shane have been in a long-term relationship and living together already for a while when lockdown started. But they are becoming increasingly annoyed with each other. Marco gets easily annoyed by Shane’s inane remarks about Internet content, and interrupting his work video meetings. But Shane is equally upset with Marco’s degrading remarks and compulsive behavior. They have an entire fight in their kitchen, even complaining about their lack of sex-life and having an idea for a three-some, which is all overheard by Marco’s colleague Ali because even though he turned off the video, he didn’t hit mute.
Shane and Marco decide to go forward with finding a third-partner on Grindr. Even in a pandemic and despite the health risks of contracting coronavirus, they think it’s worthwhile if it can save their relationship. Scrolling through the “gay-borhood”, they find a guy they knew from the gym. When Adam (played by Peter Vack) arrives, he’s wearing a mask but no gloves, sanitizes his hands, wants a window opened, and prefers to engage in their living room (instead of the bedroom) with the blinds still partially open.
Mid-way through, Marco has trouble joining in with Shane and Adam, but Adam’s own compulsions make Marco feel more self-conscious and unwelcomed. It throws Shane and Marco into a very honest conversation about their relationship. They realize again why they love each other, decide to activate their temperamental security system to get Adam (aka “the murder hornet”) to leave. It works! Marco and Shane learn to compromise their needs.
Regardless of being gay or straight and even romantic or platonic, it is fully relatable when a couple are forced together every moment of every day without the usual work separations. There’s bound to be annoyances and confrontations. Their domestic bliss may have been tested but they come to a resolution when they realize a third-person cannot make or break them. Even though there is more humor and less seriousness than any other of the show, this mid-way episode allows the viewer take a breather. But as a reminder, there are millions in domestic-abuse homes forced into quarantine instead of having the opportunity to escape to a shelter.
You Gotta Ding-Dong Fling-Flong the Whole Narrative
Dad is taking care of young son Trevor while Mom is sick in bed. She is seen sweating through her clothes and hat, coughing, labored breathing, and all but her face under the heavy covers. For what must already be for a few days to a week, Greg (played by Law & Order SVU’s Peter Scanavino) has been doing the chores, keeping Trevor preoccupied but out of his mom’s room, bringing his wife sustenance.
Greg tries convincing her to go to the hospital, especially since she’s been getting worse. He wants the doctors and their medical machines to help her get better, but she’s adamant about staying home so that she doesn’t die alone.
All the while, they have to protect their young son. He can’t comprehend what his mom is sick from, and why he can’t see her. Greg has been general in his descriptions to Trevor, but resorts to scare tactics (even unintentionally) to keep him out of his mom’s room, from touching her food, etc.
While we hear his parents’ voicemail message of concern, the relationship between them is palpable. Greg’s dad is calling the quarantine lockdown “unconstitutional” and pans Greg’s mom for her “5-second” career as a paralegal back in the 70s. Since we see Greg video chatting with his sister Lisa instead of calling them back, we can assume Greg does not have a great relationship with them. But Lisa is assertively-critical of Greg’s parenting choice to tell Trevor that his mom is too sick and unsafe to be around, instead offering advice that Greg should turn the truth into a story Trevor can understand.
It seems to work (even if Greg is not telling it right), but later at night while Greg is searching the Internet for will drafting, and court decisions for an orphaned child’s guardian, Trevor is screaming out for his mom. He’s scared the curse got her. Anne-Marie winds back Greg’s story, and laughs at Lisa’s advice, then tries to sing Trevor (and Gret) to sleep, through her coughing.
It’s the most intimate and worst situation a family can face during the pandemic. At what point is someone sick enough that sleep, soup, and water are not enough? But at what point is someone willing to say good-bye to their home, family, and comfortable bed to hope they get to come back? It’s heartbreaking determining how someone can survive a virus without much to go on.
The audience, just as much as the characters, are faced with mortality. We see this loving family trying to keep it together and pull-through but we don’t know if Anne-Marie is going to get better, with or without going to the hospital. It’s great that Greg is there to take care of Trevor. But what if it was only Anne-Marie as a single-parent, without family nearby or a responsible adult to keep Trevor safe?
Humane Animal Trap
Carolyn and Neil have been married for 40 years and were about to live their retirement dreams when Covid hit. But when Carolyn finds joy going back to work as a hospital nurse to help those in need, and Neil wants her to stay home, they find themselves at odds.
Carolyn arrives home after a long shift to see Neil’s note posted to their house’s front door, requesting she quarantine in their RV trailer, but finds the whole thing ridiculous because she’s taken all the precautions. Neil would rather they wait out the 14 days than chance her (even asymptomatically) passing the virus to him from direct or too close contact. Especially considered at high-risk age range for death, or at least less likely to get the ventilator, it’s a rational fear that Carolyn too easily dismisses given her more immediate knowledge and contact with those receiving coronavirus medical treatment.
Meanwhile, their friends Peter and Linda Russo are happily quarantining under their own roof, learning new artistic skills and enjoying each other’s company. The double-date video chat quickly change in topics from still smoking weed, the Japanese practice of making mudballs called dorodango, referencing the Amaud Arbury killing, watching Gunsmoke reruns, Carolyn’s return to work, calling Covid the “boomer remover” termed by the Millennials (the ongoing generational feud), referencing the Texas Lt. Governor who said the older generation should die so that the economy can thrive, a retirement village, and then Peter mentions a long-ago failed vacation that puts Carolyn and Neil in a worse mood. All thankfully interrupted by a menacing raccoon in Neil’s garden.
When they finally have a chance to really hash it out between themselves, their differences are made clear as a bell. It boils down to that she can’t help feeling useful when at work having spent her life earning the respect as an expert among her colleagues while he feels he did his time putting in all the years of contribution and is grateful to finally have the time to spend comfortable, with his wife, enjoying the back-half of their years.
She agrees to his terms to finish out her quarantine and eventually join him in the house, but is still available to the hospital for video chats when a situation comes up. While Neil is on the porch and she’s on the lake dock, together playing online Scrabble with video-chat, she takes a call from one of her nurses and solves a problem she was having with a patient. It took 20 seconds. The upsetting part is that when she resumes her game to chat with Neil, it seems that Neil didn’t get to see Carolyn’s heroic save. Maybe if he had, he would have changed his mind and encouraged Carolyn to return to the hospital like she wanted. Instead, he doesn’t know what she just did, going on about the raccoon, the nitrate-free bacon, and that in only 8 days they can stay in bed eating said bacon listening to the Steely Dan album. He’s so excited. But Carolyn isn’t. The next early morning, she takes the racoon to set him free in the wild and wears her scrubs to do another shift at the hospital. But we’ll never see Neil’s disappointment.
Everything is v depressing rn
For teenagers in lockdown, it’s like being stuck in-between phases. Kids need supervision. College kids have independence. Teens can do things independently without much supervision, but are too young to do anything without permission.
Although they can’t hang out with their friends in-person, it’s not a drastic change to instead hang out with their friends virtually. Playing videogames, going through their Instagram feed, TikTok dances, and even creating their own virtual online space with avatars.
Mia, Riley, and Jake are 16 year-olds on an esports team trying to get up in the ranks, and eventually sponsored. Mia plays a good game, saving the squad and getting compliments by her crush Jake. Riley is Mia’s best friend who tells her to make her move with Jake, lets her know Jake is single. Rather than make a TikTok dance like her competition, she focuses on Jake’s love for soccer/football. It works, and they get to direct messaging over Snapchat. Riley thinks Mia should send a classy picture of herself to get his like. She takes the picture and over-photoshops it. She’s really nervous and slightly insecure, but wants Jake to like her.
Mia and Jake get into the virtual reality campground she and Riley had been designing. Choosing her avatar is the next step. She can go as an anime character, a more comical character, a more Legend of Zelda looking character, or more funny looking characters. Riley (in the penguin avatar) encourages Mia to looks like herself “because that’s who he’s interested in”. She’s not impressed with herself and calls it “basic takes it anyway, and meets Jake – who first shows up in a Transformers avatar but quickly changes to the one that looks like him.
She shows him around the virtual world, and they admit they both like each other! It’s so sweet, but Mia’s mom found out she didn’t finish her homework so she cuts the wifi, pre-emptively ending their date.
When she’s finally back on, they pick up where they left off, and Jake shares the picture of their avatars in VR on his finsta – slang for a fake Instagram account. When she sees his secret newsfeed (the kind his parents and most friends wouldn’t know about or have access to), she discovers his reposts of Asia-phobic content that mocks the Chinese in racially stereotypical and discriminatory cartoons, images, and memes. It’s terribly upsetting to see the pinata designed to look like the coronavirus with bats and a Chinese man’s face on the front – even worse to see Jake’s comment of wanting to order one and three baseball bat emojis.
Mia understandably starts to cry. She’s hurt and confused and rightfully taking it personally. She’s too stunned to block him just yet but doesn’t message him about it either. Was Jake playing Mia, setting her up to break her heart? Or did he not fully understand that the content he supported meant the same thing as hate-speech against the Chinese population?
When Riley finally gets to video-chat about everything major that Mia missed, the screen shows the show’s own edited montage of the Black Lives Matter protests.
Pomp and Circumstance
As Corey helps his boss John (both Black men) set up audio-visual equipment and spaced-out chairs for an outside socially distanced graduation at a privileged high school, they have an extended debate about the current Black Lives Matter protests in comparison to the Civil Rights Movement because Corey wanted to leave work early to participate in the former but John wants him to stay on-site and keep working.
They each have a compelling impassioned argument defined by their generation’s perspective in how to confront police brutality and systemic racism. Corey is young, idealistic, and wants to participate with his friends and others in the (mostly) peaceful protests. He thinks change requires immediate and compounded drastic radical action. But mixed in with his tone of justice, is also that of typical teenager’s impulsivity and thinking he’s right regardless. John is older and thinks that it’s more important to have a plan, certain demands, and to show your strength through the everyday necessities of working within the system to change it. His tone is that of someone who comes from long-lived experience and trying to teach, but also has a tone of being somewhat jaded.
Both prove to be hyper vigilant and give-a-damn but it’s the language styles they each use that creates their point of contention. Corey accuses John of not knowing George Floyd’s name and how he died. But John can finish Corey’s roll-call (too many to list completely) of those Black people’s names too. “You think I’m not paying attention to this shit?!”
Corey’s attendance at the protests would mean he’s not just another body or voice in the crowd but that he’s one more body and voice making the crowd bigger; helping the crowd get attention. John thinks it’s more reasonable and long-term emphatic for Corey to stay committed to the job he was hired to do as an employee of a Black-owned business, and pass that understanding on to the his and the next generation. John knows Corey is not the first to fight. Corey knows the last fight didn’t do as much as it should have.
Corey’s girlfriend Ayana video-chats him twice during his confrontation with John. She shows him the posters she made: one with “I Can’t Breathe” on green-neon background, one with white-letters on a black background (which I can’t read because of the angle on-screen), and one with “Say Their Names” in pink, black, and purple letters on a plain background. She wants Corey with her but her passion for feeling compelled to protest is not made as explicit as his. She mentions Breonna Taylor’s last tweet about how 2020 would be her year. But we don’t see Ayana trying to convince another female character (her aunt, employer, or other) or getting others to join her (friends, a sister, etc.) why she needs to be out there too. From having seen Lovie Simone in Selah and the Spades (available on Amazon Prime), she’s able to exude a character with natural leadership but we don’t get to hear her perspective, anger, or frustration in the same tone as Corey. Instead of being part of the episode’s conversation, she comes across more by her inflections and gestures as a typical teenager, participating in a trend rather than a movement. Adding her perspective with even an older female’s would have helped balance the scales.
The one aspect that Corey and John agree on and laugh together at is why so many white people are messaging them to ask if they’re ok? Joking that “Black twitter put them up to it” and, “Heard about this racism thing? Just making sure you didn’t get murdered since the last time we spoke”. Granted, it’s an opportunity for an awkward exchange between friends let alone random check-ins from acquaintances; but there’s also been too many times when white friends have not taken a moment to address their privilege and/or offer support, whether between friends or acquaintances.
[Even though this is a review and study of a Covid-Cinema exemplary show, so that there’s no question where I personally stand: I condemn police brutality and systemic racism of the Black community!]
Conclusion
I very much disagree with Indiewire’s review by Tambay Obenson, as he summed up the show as “Meh.” Social Distance is not 100% perfect and of course it remains to be seen what can still emerge from Covid-Cinema. Perhaps “nothing here is particularly ground-breaking, or revealing” but it’s better than mediocre, by showing various scenarios with some different choices for who plays what character and what they experience.
Imani is not a caregiver to a white family being asked to stay at the nursing site instead of being at home with her daughter. John says his uncle was a police lieutenant. Carolyn is a nurse but she is resentful of abiding by the safety protocols with her husband. Mia is not Ms. Popular or Ms. Geek trying to get a boy’s attention. Greg and Anne-Marie are a mixed-race couple. Ike is smiling through the pain until he can’t. And only in Celebration, the Villareal family out-right say they are Catholics. Other episodes’ characters are not any overtly other religious affiliation (whether Jewish, Hindus, Native American, Lutheran, agnostic, atheist, or etc.).
From what I gather having seen this show and the other’s I’ve reviewed so far, the stand-out element of what makes a good self-taping/zoom-filmed show or movie relies heavily on the actors’ performances and the writing. Having even seen Episode 1/Pilot of Connecting… (on Hulu) also with its diverse cast of tight-knit friends in their zoom group chats, it was not even the slightest engaging and I’d prefer not to continue watching. Now, that show I’d say is more “Meh.”
SOME ADDITONAL NOTES ABOUT SOCIAL DISTANCE:
Not only were many of the self-taping capabilities used, but you can read in The Hollywood Reporter article and the show’s IMDB.com page that many of the performers for each episode already lived together.
In Delete All Future Events, Ajay Naidu playing Dan and Heather Burns playing AA group leader Deb are married with a son. But, Ajay didn’t take off his wedding ring despite his character referring to a girlfriend not wife staying with him.
In Celebration, Daphne Rubin-Vega and her actual husband and son play Reina’s husband and son.
In And we Could All Together, Danielle Brooks who plays Imani is the actual daughter of Larita Brooks who plays Earnestine, and the second nurse that passes by Imani, Chris, is played by her (assumed) relative D.J. Brooks – all filmed in South Carolina.
In Ding-Dong Fling-Flong, Peter Scanavino and his son Leo are Greg and Trevor, respectively. It’s especially cool to note that such a young kid can understand he was playing a character with a different name than his own, especially given that Ali Ahn who plays his mom Anne-Marie is not his actual mom.
In Humane, Neil and Carolyn are played by actual husband and wife, veteran performers Dylan and Becky Ann Baker – who have previously worked together on so many other projects over the years.
In Pomp, John and Corey are played by actual father and son Ayize Ma’at and Asante Blackk; the latter who has received high critical acclaim for his performance of Kevin Richardson in the Netflix four part series, When They See Us; based upon the real-life wrongfully accused and incriminated “Central Park Five”. As per Asante’s IMDB page, he comes from a “long line of preachers, social activists and counselors” and also noting not only is Ayize (and his wife) is a clinical social worker and therapist but that Samira Wiley is Asante’s aunt.
For those that I cannot find more information on, those
performers who do not reside together would have had to quarantine (separately)
beforehand and test negative prior to any close-contact scenes together among
other rules, per the entertainment industry’s determined protocols, and
SAG-AFTRA approvals; also taking into consideration any in-person crew members.
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