Simple Questions
“Who’s your favorite artist?” seems like a tame enough question. But that comfort is immediately thrown out the window when Dre (Dominique Fishback) , the protagonist of the binge worthy uncanny Amazon Prime Video mini horror series, Swarm, asks her prey. When Dre asks the question, the wrong answer just may be your last words. In Dre’s world(a place where it becomes increasingly difficult to differentiate between actuality and pure fantasy) only one name can save you from a doomed fate. A member of Ni’Jah’s “Swarm” (Beyhive), a pop diva who’s clearly modeled after Beyonce, inspires an overzealous, damn near religious devotion, she expects everyone she encounters on her cross-country social media killing spree to join the church, drink the Kool-Aid or at least keep their “wrong” opinions to themselves. Dre is the head Maenad of Ni’Jah’s temple. Through Dre’s manic devotion, and Janine Nabers and Donald Glover’s allusions to real world events, hazy athletic, and on the nose casting choices, we are taken through a satirical meta commentary on the toxicity of fandoms and discover what happens when horror switches from the paranormal to the parasocial.
While satirical like Glover’s Atlanta, Swarm’s linear plot, with its undertones of psychological horror, gives the series a different vibe, but is still firmly planted in cultural and social commentary. Unlike most social media horror stories, that primarily focus on White men's journey down the Reddit fandom to alt- right pipeline, Swarm follows Dre a Black woman, and yet she doesn’t fit into any stereotype or archetype. She’s not a welfare queen or Sapphire. And while her status as a victim is questionable, we know for certain that Dre is no hero and definitely not a reliable narrator. Dre was pulled from the depths of celebrity stan culture, where the obsessive tendencies of the Swarm are rewarded within the boundaries of our screens, but have dire consequences in the outside world. Surprisingly, the issue isn’t that Dre runs a Twitter account capturing Ni’Jah’s every waking moment, it's that she refuses to live out her own life. She lives vicariously through her friend, foster sister, and roommate Marissa Jackson (Chloe Bailey). And seems perfectly content to do so until Marissa accidentally ODs after she discovers her boyfriend Khalid (Damson Idris) has cheated on her. Coincidentally it’s the very same night Ni’jah drops her visual album “Festival”, striking a strong resemblance to the 2016 internet rumor of a woman with the same name committing suicide after listening to Beyonce’s Lemonade and learning Jay-Z cheated on her.
“This is not a work of fiction…”
If you think that allusion was just a one off occurrence think again. While a niche understanding of internet culture and history may be needed to recognize these allusions, Nabers and Glover used events spanning from 2016-2018 to ground Dre and push the narrative. Nothing is by coincidence, the disclaimer at the beginning of every episode reassures the audience of that, claiming that Swarm is based on a true story. Besides the death of Marissa Jackson, we see other allusions and parallels to Beyonce’ as Dre travels across the country chasing anyone who dares to besmirch Ni’jah’s name, making it incredibly difficult to parse out reality. Dre desperately tries to get tickets for the “Running Scared” tour (Beyonce’s On the Run Tour), mows down a cult of women to get to Ni’jah’s Festival at Bonnaroo,(Beychella) and changes her Twitter banner to Ni’jah’s Evolution cover,(Renaissance) to list a few. But the biggest allusions are arguably some of Dre’s most manic and difficult moments to discern.
Through the haziness of an album listening party, we watch as Dre appears to be eating some sort of chocolate. The scene rapidly changes from the profile of Dre eating the chocolate to an unidentified silhouette in front of her until it is interrupted by a scream of pain and someone accusing Dre of biting Ni’jah’s face. Dre, pulled from her reverie, rushes outside where she stumbles across two craft servicemen, one of whom believes she’s “the bitch from Love and Basketball”. This of course is an allusion to the famous story, per Tiffany Haddish, of an actress coming up to Beyonce at the 2017 4:44 album party and biting her face. The actress in question was rumored to be Sanaa Lathan, the bitch from Love and Basketball.
“Art is the imitation of life.”
The other moment takes place during the last episode. After strangling her lover, watching her body burn, and offing yet another innocent bystander, Dre stands in the front row of the concert, gaze transfixed on Ni’Jah. This scene is the only time we see Ni’Jah’s face clearly in real time, besides the posters and magazine covers. But surprisingly when the camera pans from Dre to the stage, we are met with Marrisa’s face superimposed on Ni’Jah’s body, almost as if Dre has equated Marissa and Ni’Jah to be one in the same. In a hypnotic fashion, Dre rushes towards the stage to grab Ni’jah just like superfan Anthony Charles Thomas Maxwell did in 2018 to Beyonce’ and Jay-Z during their Atlanta concert. Actual footage of the assault on Beyonce’ and Jay-Z is used in Episode 6 as evidence where Dre is depicted as a fascinating serial killer on a true crime documentary series. By the end of the episode, Swarm is framed as a dramatic retelling of Dre’s killing sprees, complete with a tip line number, heightening the level of meta commentary.
The allusions to internet history and culture don’t just stop at the plot, but are woven into the casting of the ensemble itself, making the series incredibly meta. For example Dre is shocked to discover that her fellow stripper Hailey (Pairs Jackson, daughter of Micheal Jackson) whose stage name is Halsey, calls herself Black. Just like Halsey the artist, Hailey has a half Black father, and is White presenting. Similarly to Halsey and Hailey, Paris Jackson has had her parentage and her Blackness questioned over the internet for years. Time and time again Paris has reassured the public that Michael Jackson is her father and that she is proud to be Black, despite what others may believe. Another is Billie Eilish, who made her acting debut as the terrifying cult leader Eva, who was inspired by the real life NXIVM cult. While Billie is not religious, there have been several social media trends, such as the Billie Eilish Christmas cult and the fact that her fans sometimes call themselves a cult with her as their leader.
Like mother, like daughter
But of course we can’t forget the glaringly obvious allusion of Marissa Jackson being portrayed by Beyonce’s protegee, Chloe Bailey. Fans and critics of the actress/artist have likened her to that of her mentor, often claiming that she has the capability to become the next generation’s Beyonce’. Throughout the series Dre conflates Ni’Jah and Marissa together, and it's easy to see why, as the last moment they had together was sharing their love for Ni’Jah. But we also see this conflation in the parasocial relationship Dre has with Ni’Jah. Similar to her deep friendship/sisterhood with Marissa, Dre knows everything there’s to know about Ni’jah. And perhaps fueled by guilt, she’s made up a fantasy where she and Ni’jah were best friends who suffered a falling out the last time they met and she just wants to apologize, just as Dre texts apologies to Marissa’s phone, trying to communicate a message that will never reach its intended recipient.
The last image of the series, the Marissa faced Ni’jah cuddling in the backseat of a car with Dre, drives this point home. While loyal, feral, members of the Beyhive know her discography, and biography (at least the one that has been made public), or lack of cooking skills, they don’t really know Beyonce’. We know how she started her career as a girl in a talent show, but we have no idea, for certain, how she feels about music now. In fact, despite her hypervisibility, we cannot “see” her. Beyonce’, has often been credited for her skills of moving in silence, and rarely gives a public opinion on anything, we don’t get to see the personal side of Beyonce’. Perhaps that’s why Ni’jah is never clearly seen when we are being guided through Dre’s narrative. Dre recognizes Ni’Jah the artist, but cannot reach or see Ni’jah the person. Dre believes Ni’jah is a goddess, a figure who is meant to be revered and someone to aspire to, but whose position will always be elevated and unattainable for the masses.
If you can make it past Dre awkwardly watching Marissa and Khalid having sex in the opening scene of the first episode, you’re in for a great thriller. Donald Glover and Janine Nabers’ Swarm makes for one hell of a cautionary tale for when the fandom or hive mind becomes deadly. Swarm is an amazing introduction for anyone new to Amazon Prime Video or Amazon Studios. Donald Glover’s vision for duality and heightened commentary is clear throughout the series. And I for one hope this won’t be his last project with Amazon Prime.
