Issa hit! The five best moments of Insecure
It has been a long two years since the last series of Insecure. In fairness, its creator, Issa Rae, had a few small things to attend to – starring in the hilarious rom-com-gone-wrong The Lovebirds and the sizzling rom-com-goneright Photograph, as well as launching her own record label, Raedio, with Atlantic.
With Rae finally having found the time to return to the show that made her name, season four is here. If you have safely avoided the minefield of spoilers, you are in for a wild ride.
The fictional Issa (played by Rae) and her crew of thirtysomething friends – Molly, Kelli, Tiffany – have spent the past three seasons trying to upgrade themselves while navigating messy sex lives, petty feuds and eating and drinking their way across south Los Angeles – with boyfriends, side pieces, flings and husbands in tow. As they have stumbled through life, the comedy has found hilarity in their successes and screw-ups – and in all the mundane aspects of their lives.
Here are my favourite moments of the show so far:
Issa’s freestyling
“Maybe it’s dry as hell, maybe it really smells ...” This seminal moment from the first episode introduces Issa’s low-key, but impressive, hobby of rapping. On a night out to cheer up Molly after another dating mishap, she runs into an old flame. Eager to impress this guy, who is definitely not her boyfriend, Issa goes on stage and blissfully spins her friend’s personal life (and gynaecological concerns) into an alarmingly catchy freestyle.
The couch scene
Things between Issa and her exboyfriend Lawrence are very much off, but how did they get here? Much of their couple’s time together plays out around the cushy yellow sofa in their apartment. Using it as a focal point, a flashback depicts the trajectory of their relationship, from giddily unwrapping the couch to lying intertwined watching films and kissing in their early days. As the cracks grow, so does the gap between them; their harmonious couch becomes the battleground for arguments, then silence, until one of them gets up and walks away. The sequence lasts only 30 seconds, but it is an achingly familiar portrayal of how a