'Demascus': The Revolution Will Be…on Tubi?!

There's something revolutionary happening on Tubi. Yes, that Tubi, the one with all the 65-minute found-footage horror flicks and Black indie movies about a love triangle that, for whatever reason, inevitably ends in murder. 

The streamer’s excellent original series comes wrapped in the most unlikely package: a sci-fi comedy about therapy that uses reality-bending technology to examine Black masculinity with granular detail and auterish sophistication. "Demascus" represents the kind of ambitious and Black-centered storytelling that traditional networks consistently abandon, only to watch it flourish elsewhere as essential viewing.

The six-episode limited series follows a 33-year-old Black government graphic designer named Demascus (Okieriete Onaodowan) who discovers Digital Immersive Reality Therapy—yes, D.I.R.T., because someone clearly had fun with that acronym—as a way to process his existential crisis. When his workplace colleagues dismiss him behind his back with "Y'all know how Demascus is, right?," it becomes clear that his survival strategy of being unknowable has become a prison. Creator Tearrance Arvelle Chisholm, a Juilliard-trained playwright, has crafted something that feels both wildly experimental and emotionally grounded.

“‘Demascus’ represents the kind of ambitious and Black-centered storytelling that traditional networks consistently abandon, only to watch it flourish elsewhere as essential viewing.”

The fact that we're watching "Demascus" on Tubi instead of AMC tells you everything about how traditional networks still struggle with ambitious Black storytelling. Originally developed through AMC's "scripts-to-series" program in 2021, the show completed full production by 2022 only to fall off the schedule during the network's $475 million writedown the following year. Tubi's rescue feels like the streaming equivalent of a perfect adoption. The platform's diverse viewership (reportedly half 35-and-younger and nearly half multicultural) represents exactly the audience hungry for a show about contemporary Black life that challenges genre conventions.

Therapy meets Black Mirror

The genius of "Demascus" lies in how it literalizes the therapeutic process. Instead of sitting on a couch talking through trauma, the titular character experiences alternate versions of his life through advanced augmented reality. Across six episodes, each one essentially its own genre experiment, we see Demascus as everything from a celebrated artist to a devoted priest to his best friend's romantic partner. The catch? In every single timeline, he maintains the same emotional distance.

It's a premise that sounds like it could be insufferably pretentious, but Chisholm keeps things grounded with dialogue that captures authentic Black speech patterns without ever feeling performative. When Demascus tells his therapist "I can be anybody. Or nobody. And that's a good quality for a Black man to have, right?," you feel the weight of centuries of code-switching and strategic invisibility packed into that question.

L-R: Janet Hubert and Okieriete "Oak" Onaodowan | Photo Credit: Jace Downs/AMC Networks

A trio of calibrated performances

Onaodowan anchors the series with a performance that's both subtle and commanding, navigating multiple realities while maintaining the character's core emotional barriers. The “Hamilton” and “This Is Us” veteran brings remarkable range to a role that could have easily become one-note, finding new layers of vulnerability and resistance in each alternate timeline. His ability to remain recognizably Demascus while embodying completely different life paths showcases exactly why he was perfectly cast in a role that called for a Swiss Army actor.

Janet Hubert (yes, Original Aunt Viv) delivers what might be her finest performance in decades as Dr. Bonnetville, the therapist administering D.I.R.T. with what the show calls her "patented blend of apathy and cutting-edge technology." This is Hubert's first series regular role in over three decades, and she brings a sharp-tongued professionalism that transforms what could have been a stereotypical maternal figure into something far more complex. She normalizes Black men seeking mental health support without making it feel like a Very Special Episode.

Martin Lawrence's Uncle Forty provides both comedic relief and cultural commentary as the "self-proclaimed family patriarch" with failing health but undiminished ego. Lawrence channels eight years away from television into a performance that embodies what Chisholm calls "Unc culture"—offering the "earned wisdom of failed kidneys and knife fights." The most revealing moment comes when Demascus's sister faces domestic abuse: Uncle Forty pulls a knife, ready for violence, while the younger generation chooses "reason over retaliation." It's a generational divide that Lawrence navigates with surprising nuance.

The therapy will be televised (and it's about time)

What makes "Demascus" genuinely revolutionary is how it tackles Black male mental health without flinching. The show directly confronts therapy stigma when Demascus's girlfriend admits to being "turned on by the fact that Demascus is the rare Black man who is seeking therapy without a court order." It's the kind of line that makes you laugh and wince simultaneously, because we all know exactly what she means.

The protagonist's survival mechanism of being "unknowable" reflects something painfully familiar—how Black men navigate hostile spaces through strategic invisibility. At work, he's "acknowledged but stripped of the cultural nuance" granted to others, experiencing quiet prejudice in supposedly progressive environments.

The exploration of grief runs particularly deep throughout the series. Demascus's unprocessed mourning for his mother, who died five years prior, infects every alternate reality. Surprisingly, she never appears in any timeline. This absence drives the show's emotional core, especially in a devastating Thanksgiving episode where Demascus overdoses on D.I.R.T., seeking maternal comfort but finding only more confusion. It's both absurd and heartbreaking, which pretty much sums up the show's tonal sweet spot.

“When Demascus tells his therapist ‘I can be anybody. Or nobody. And that’s a good quality for a Black man to have, right?,’ you feel the weight of centuries of code-switching and strategic invisibility packed into that question.”

Genre-bending as cultural statement

"Demascus" carves out a niche in the television landscape all its own. It’s a sci-fi drama that's more interested in emotional intelligence than special effects, and a comedy that never sacrifices its characters for easy laughs, and a representation of therapy more likely to encourage than discourage new appointments.. The scarcity of sci-fi series with Black protagonists makes Chisholm's achievement even more significant. He's created space for complex Black male characters whose intelligence and vulnerability challenge typical genre expectations.

The show's structure builds toward an ending that, while ambiguous, reinforces the central questions about identity, perception, and the nature of healing.

The revolution will be therapeutic

Watching "Demascus," I kept thinking about how rare it is to see Black men on screen actively choosing vulnerability over traditional hypermasculine performance. The show questions what strength actually looks like in 2025, providing answers that feel both specific to Black male experiences and universally resonant.

In the evolving landscape of Black storytelling, "Demascus" represents a new paradigm where introspection becomes adventure and self-discovery is a rollicking journey. It's essential viewing that proves important stories will find new life when platforms prioritize authentic representation over safe, traditional narratives.