Before reading, make sure you
watch the first and second episodes of Noughts + Crosses, and read my
reviews of them (here and here)! The below review contains a few spoilers as to what has
already happened so far in the series…
The third episode of Noughts +
Crosses is my least favourite so far, although the show is most certainly a
class act.
Perhaps one of the reasons I am
less raving about this episode is that it makes fewer salient points about the
dichotomy of the “superior” and subjugated. That is not to say that they are
not present – but in this episode, it is interpersonal relationships that come
to the fore, and less so structural relationships.
With that said, the very first
few words we hear in this episode are uttered by a university lecturer, who
boldly proclaims before his class that:
“When the Aprican settlers first came to Albion, they were faced with a country in chaos.”
Does that type of rhetoric seem
in any way familiar to you?
“Settlers”. Settlers, or
invaders? Plunderers? Looters?
When we talk about Americans in
the modern-day, we rarely speak of Native Americans. The standard of
Americanness we most typically see represented is Caucasian. We do not speak of
“European Americans”, but “Asian-American” and “African-American” are staple
terms. Why is this? Because white Americans are seen to be the standard. Those
with a greater right to be there than anyone else. Settlers. The reality is
that Christopher Columbus did not “discover” America, the indigenous peoples
were already there. They were slaughtered and displaced from their land - and then the invaders called themselves “Americans”.
In the dystopian world of Noughts
+ Crosses, Apricans behave in much the same way. The Crosses determine
themselves to be those with the right to be there. The Noughts are worse than
an inconvenience to them.
The Crosses legitimise their
dehumanisation of the Noughts by convincing themselves that they saved the
Noughts from “their own worst tendencies”. They tell themselves that Albion was
“a country in chaos” before the wonderful saviours arrived.
This mirrors the notion of the
white saviour complex, visible in our world today. This complex can be found in
literary writings: some of those I had to study at university would refer to
“the civilised world” – by which they mean the white world. You can also spot
the white saviour complex in short-term missionary trips where white Westerners
clamour to take photos with little black children – excited to post them on
their social media feeds once they return.
In an effort to make Crosses the
heroes of the story, Sephy’s professor states, with no shame:
“An ongoing, brutal civil war had left many of its [Albion’s] barbaric inhabitants dying of plague or starvation.”
“Barbaric”. No doubt we are used to seeing that word
used in racist rhetoric, just to describe a different racial group.
Sephy has transformed the naïve,
privileged Cross girl she was when we first met her. Now, she challenges her
professor with no shame.
She does get in trouble for it,
though. But with the Home Secretary as her father, she doesn’t pay too hefty a
price.
Not that Kamal Hadley, Sephy’s
father, appreciates her moral commitment to equality for Noughts. He gets a bee
in his bonnet when it is announced that Noughts will for the first time ever,
be allowed to publicly celebrate their traditional festival, Midsummer. He’s a
bit pathetic.
Kamal has the same idea in his
head that the inventors of classical racism had: that one race is intrinsically
superior, and other races are inherently inferior – and thus equality is not
the modus operandi.
In this world of systemic oppression, it is difficult for
Noughts to occupy much space.
When Ryan, Callum’s father, struggles to find a new job, his
son Jude asks:
Though only afforded a few lines in the script, this point
is striking. In the reality of our world, in white-majority countries such as
the UK, “foreign-sounding” names have been proven to make the lives of those
who carry them more difficult. It is more difficult for someone with a
“non-English-sounding name” to get an interview or sometimes a place on an
educational course. In this dystopian world, the Noughts are the group who are
systematically denied a place at the table.
The Complexity of Interpersonal Relationships
 |
The love story between Callum and Sephy continues to be spun
in this episode.
|
Relationships take centre stage in this episode. Not just the romance between Sephy and Callum – we see a number of interpersonal relationships fractured by friction in episode three.
The friendship between Jasmine (Sephy’s mother) and Meggie
(Callum’s mother) is one of them. We see Jasmine descend into alcohol addiction
and deep depression. In her hurt, she pushes her long-time employee and friend,
Meggie, away – and into the shadows.
 |
Jasmine develops a dependency on the bottle
|
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A stunned Meggie stands in shock after Jasmine deals her an
unexpected blow
|
As conflict divides their mothers, Sephy and Callum too, are
faced with a divide. A divide of a different nature. Notwithstanding their love
for each other, the state-imposed separation of Noughts and Crosses continues
to complicate the young couple’s relationship.
 |
Callum is questioned by an officer simply for standing by
Sephy in front of Danny’s memorial.
|
Mirroring the racial profiling Callum is subjected to, the presumption
that Noughts = trouble is the driving force for the tank that shows up
at the Midsummer festival.
 |
The Noughts’ version of a Caribbean carnival! They look
pretty harmless to me…
|
 |
… But unbelievably, a military tank is deployed to police
the crowds.
|
Racial stereotyping is evident in Jasmine’s rhetoric, too. In
her attempt to urge Sephy not to attend the Midsummer festival, she lets slip
some shocking hypocrisy.
 |
| Jasmine isn't exactly teetotal herself... |
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| Expectations for women are the same in this world. |
As the rift widens between Jasmine and Sephy, we see another
interpersonal relationship further disintegrate: Callum and Jude’s. What
happens to Callum’s brother is what often happens to a group of marginalised,
disenfranchised people. Jude feels a desperate need to belong – and goes
searching for his identity in the wrong place. I don’t know about you, but I
actually feel pity for him.
 |
Jude seems to seek approval from Jack Dorn in the way one
might seek approval from a father.
|
This episode sees Jude and Callum pitted against each other
in a way we have never seen before.
Lekan, Sephy’s now ex-boyfriend, has a part to play in that.
He pulls a ruse that nearly costs Jude his life. Realising that Mercy Point
will never truly be for him and his people, Callum decides to walk away.
In the chaos of their divided world, Callum and Sephy find
comfort and solace in each other.
A bit too much comfort and solace, if you know what I mean.
As they are doing the deed (not shown, thankfully), Meggie bumps
into someone on her way home who personifies the ghosts of Kamal’s past. Yaro. Yaro is played by Luke Bailey. Sorry to say, but Bailey is the worst actor in an otherwise pretty stellar cast. I
don’t know what accent he is supposed to be speaking in, but if it is meant to
be a Nigerian accent, it isn’t a very good one.
Yaro and Meggie’s exchange doesn’t last long. Then comes the
awkward and laughable moment in which Meggie finds her son and Sephy upstairs. The
contrast between this moment and the one shown in the still below, is striking.
Jasmine’s hospitalisation brings into focus the importance
of family. It causes Sephy, her sister Minerva and their father Kamal, to
reassess their priorities.
Meanwhile, trouble begins to set on Jude and Callum’s
relationship. Jude is less than impressed when he learns that Callum and Sephy
are seeing each other.
 |
Some might say the same about Callum! ;)
|
Callum’s reaction to a drastic decision that Jude has made,
on the other hand, provokes a much more volatile response. The directions the
two have decided to take in response to racial injustice are diametrically
opposed.
Let’s just say, this episode is full of drama.
Watch it.
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