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Kicking down the doors to its sixth and last season, Snowfall has returned and audiences have only edged farther and farther to the front of their seats. Not that that should be surprising, as the finale of season five was filled with all of the faulty wires to make this concluding season explode. The catalyst of the show surrounds the driven Franklin Saint (not a real person, by the way, but his experiences are strongly inspired by reality) and his quest for success so he may escape the decaying streets of Los Angeles in the 1980s.

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Throughout the series, his drive is sunken by a looming list of dead bodies, a pipeline of Black people among his society succumbing to the addiction of crack cocaine and the relinquished feeling of guilt, fear of death, and the loss of success he’s so much worked for because it could disappear so quickly. The series also follows the complete family of Franklin, including his uncle and aunt, Jerome and Louie, his mother Cissy and father Alton, and his best friend Leon. They have all corroborated within the Saint empire, falling deeper and deeper into the hole of capitalism and trauma through every trigger pulled and every dimebag that’s been sold. 

Beyond Franklin’s family, his other partners include Gustavo Zapata and Teddy McDonald. Franklin works with—or rather works for, Teddy, the CIA agent, who is the provider of Franklin’s success but is also the outlier with the most potential to burn his bliss to the ground. And that bliss comes crumbling to pieces in season five as Teddy steals all of Franklin’s money ($73 million to be exact), preventing Franklin from walking away from the game.

In the first episode of season six— “Fallout,” we arrive precisely where we left off in the previous season. To ruins. Franklin is off the wall, as his relationships with Jerome, Louie, and Teddy are in shambles. Shambles could be an understatement at this point, as their relationships are practically desolate. All at the hands of capitalism. As Teddy benefits from the government, he won’t ever have to worry about how far his future extends. Whereas for Franklin, Jerome, and Louie—regardless of the money they may access—it doesn’t hold the power to obliterate racism. It can’t erase the shackles of oppression and it can’t refurbish poverty or generational trauma. With and without that access to money, they are still only cards in Teddy’s playing deck. And the desperate hope they cling to, the American dream they so wish to participate in is just a fever that’ll run cold.

Franklin’s yearning for success isn’t a selfish aspiration, but the way in which it affects his entire community emphasizes the winners and losers structure of capitalism. Especially Black capitalism. In order for Franklin to obtain his empire, it relies on a population of people—could be former teachers, future doctors, retired blue-collar workers and grandmothers—that will fall to their knees in favor of the drug he’s pushing. Franklin’s only realm of success is in junction with the death of his own people. And isn’t that sad? Franklin, Jerome, Louie, Leon, and Cissy have all had their hands in the pain and suffering of Black people, all so that it wouldn’t happen to them.

In this new season, while Cissy is set on working with the KGB in order to see Teddy’s downfall, Franklin still longs for the success he had through his drug business, regardless of how Teddy has only proven to hold the power to take it away whenever he so chooses. Franklin and Louie emphasize the delusion that lingers over their family. They both have loyalty to an American Dream that will gracefully execute them when the time is right. Over the course of years, Franklin has been shot in his back twice, lost two of his best friends and was the reason his first love became addicted to crack while also being the reason why her father was murdered. Then—the real stinger—Franklin decided to continue working for Teddy, the same man who killed his father. Louie has also been shot and was the reason why Jerome went full-time into a business that’s caused him trauma and suffering, all to see her winter dreams come to fruition.

This lust for wealth has driven a wedge in their family and it parallels the destruction it’s done to communities of color. When Leon decides to step out of the game, spontaneously taking a trip to Africa, his spot of power within the Saint empire is immediately positioned to someone else. When he returns, the sunny neighborhoods of Central Los Angeles are bitter and dampened by spilled blood between the Saint family. To think that Jerome, Louie, and Franklin have reached the dispositions where they’d be willing to sacrifice each other only showcase how treacherous power can be. “It’s just business,” they all say in defense of their actions. It’s a sad thing that business can outgrow love. It can outgrow family. And it blurs the lines to the morals we believe are molded within us.

John Singleton’s Snowfall may be focused on the 80s, but the show’s message about power and wealth formulates a clause across many generations. It offers a mirror into the ways in which our system has toyed with communities of color, using their hopes and dreams of existence and livelihood as the main weapon to their downfalls. It raises the question of how far we would go for that ugly white, blue, and certainly bloody red American Dream and it definitely raises the bar and expectations of what a television series should be. Even though the characters of Snowfall fall to ruin, the show in total blazes clearly as a source of media we won’t ever forget.

Snowfall is available to stream now on Hulu, with new episodes each Thursday.

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