What does it truly mean when something or someone is called “evil?” That’s what’s called into question in Tyler Perry’s new series on Netflix, Beauty in Black.
In Beauty in Black, Perry takes audiences on a glossy, sordid journey into a fictional world of high-stakes beauty industry corruption. The series revolves around an elite beauty company that’s as morally bankrupt as it is wealthy, rumored to sell products that actually cause cancer in Black women. Through exaggerated characters and shock-value storylines, Beauty in Black attempts to shine a light on the perils of unchecked power and wealth, but its message is buried under its own excesses.
From the start, Beauty in Black embraces its role as an exaggerated drama, peopled by a cast that’s mostly defined by their extreme flaws. While Mallory (played by Crystle Stewart) and Kimmie (played by Taylor Polidore Williams), two women caught in the vortex of the beauty empire’s dangerous allure, offer occasional glimpses of empathy and resilience, these moments are few and far between. Instead, the show leans heavily into the “evil” archetype for most of its characters, with personalities so absurdly ruthless that they verge on the melodramatic. Perry seems to suggest that wealth and power inevitably breed corruption, but rather than exploring this theme with any real depth, Beauty in Black opts for spectacle.
Kimmie and her friend Rain (played Amber Reign Smith) are trapped in a life of sex work under the control of their ruthless pimp, Jules (played by Charles Malik Whitfield), who can send them back to jail with a single call. They also dance at a strip club, part of the same operation. Kimmie, however, hopes to escape by applying for a beauty school scholarship from Mallory, the CEO of Beauty In Black. Rain is skeptical, believing they’re doomed to this life, and warns, “At some point, you gotta face the fact that we hos.”
The drama unfolds as Kimmie is scolded by club managers and offends a VIP client, while Mallory, after a public event, reveals her cruel side by berating her staff and fleeing a hit-and-run accident. Meanwhile, Body (played by Tamera “Tee” Kissen), the “bottom b***h, arranges a back alley BBL for Rain in their motel room conducted by Daga (played by Ts Madison).
The show revels in absurd situations and twisted relationships that can feel almost satirical. Beauty in Black has all the hallmarks of a soap opera—a web of secret liaisons, betrayal, and drama at every turn. The series is unabashedly over-the-top, and it knows it. This exaggerated approach, while at times entertaining, can also be exhausting. At 45 minutes per episode, the format occasionally drags, as storylines rehash the same conflicts and character weaknesses without advancing much plot or character development. This repetition feels like filler rather than substance, detracting from any attempts at building tension or suspense.
What Beauty in Black lacks in subtlety, it makes up with sheer audacity. The series plunges viewers into a world filled with gratuitous nudity and endless profanity, designed more to shock than to contribute to the story. The sexual content, in particular, often feels unneeded, existing mainly to amp up the show’s appeal. As a fully grown woman, I felt like the sex scenes were a bit excessive.
Though much of the series can feel hollow, the lead cast injects life into even the most melodramatic scripts. They commit fully to their roles, embodying each character’s moral ambiguity and wealth-fueled indulgence with relish. However, the supporting cast—likely due to their minimal screen time—does not always match this energy, and their contributions often fall flat. As such, the show’s dramatic moments become predictable, with many side characters acting as mere plot devices to propel the leads’ stories.
One of the biggest drawbacks in Beauty in Black is the lack of any genuinely redeemable characters. No one in the cast seems even remotely relatable; they’re either too far gone morally or too single-mindedly self-destructive. This leaves the audience without a true anchor, a character to root for amidst the chaos. Villainy pervades every plotline, and each character seems to follow a pattern of making the worst decisions possible. As viewers, we’re left feeling distanced, watching almost as if they were caricatures rather than real, complex individuals.
And yet, for all its flaws, Beauty in Black does have moments of merit. It doesn’t pretend to be anything it’s not, embracing its role as “good, forgettable entertainment” with gleeful abandon. This is a series for viewers who enjoy campy dramas where logic takes a back seat. If watched with the expectation of sheer escapism, Beauty in Black provides a decent dose of indulgent, outrageous fun. The sheer audacity of the plot twists and the soap opera-esque relationships can hold an odd allure, especially if you find pleasure in chaos.
In the end, Beauty in Black is a series best appreciated as a guilty pleasure rather than profound television. It holds up a twisted mirror to society’s obsession with wealth and power, but does so in a way that makes viewers second-guess the story itself. There’s no nuance here—only the relentless grind of betrayal, money, and sex. For anyone looking for thought-provoking television, this show may fall short, but as an exercise in mindless indulgence, Perry has certainly delivered.
Final Verdict: Beauty in Black is a soap opera in the grandest, most exaggerated sense—a guilty pleasure at best and a forgettable spectacle at worst. While Perry’s studio has brought substantial benefits to the industry and community, the stories told from this platform sometimes risk overshadowing the very issues they aim to address. Instead of inviting viewers to engage deeply, the series can become mired in spectacle, raising the question: is the goal to inspire thought?
In this way, Perry’s ambitious content strategy reflects a tension inherent in his work. On one hand, his creations generate visibility for Black stories and establish his compound as a powerful force within Hollywood. On the other, the sensational elements of his storytelling can risk simplifying or even trivializing his stories, leading us to question whether these stories serve as authentic social critiques or as high-drama escapism. For those willing to embrace the series for what it is, there’s messy, excessive entertainment to be found in Perry’s campy universe.
