Let’s be real for a second. Most prequels feel like a cynical cash grab. They exist to explain things nobody actually asked about, like how a character got their jacket or why they use a specific catchphrase. But Power Book III: Raising Kanan is doing something different. It isn’t just a "how-to" guide for becoming a villain. Honestly, it’s a Shakespearean tragedy dressed up in 90s South Jamaica, Queens, aesthetic. It’s gritty. It’s loud. And somehow, it makes you empathize with a monster.
We all knew Kanan Stark from the original Power series. Played by 50 Cent, he was the guy you loved to hate—or maybe just hated. He was the chaos agent who would kill his own son without blinking. So, when Starz announced a prequel about his teen years, people were skeptical. Could a kid version of a psychopath really carry a whole show? Mekai Curtis stepped into those oversized Timberlands and proved everyone wrong. He doesn't just play Kanan; he inhabits the slow, painful erosion of a young man’s soul.
The Raq Effect: Why Patina Miller Is the Show's Secret Weapon
You can't talk about Power Book III: Raising Kanan without talking about Raquel "Raq" Thomas. Forget Ghost. Forget Tommy. Raq is the most terrifying person in this entire universe. Patina Miller plays her with this chilling, calculated poise that makes your skin crawl. She isn't just a "boss babe" in the drug game; she is a mother who uses love as a weapon.
That’s the core of the show. It’s the twisted umbilical cord between a mother and a son. Raq doesn't just want Kanan to succeed; she wants to own him. Every move she makes—every lie she tells—is framed as "protecting the family." But you see the cracks. You see how her ambition isn't just about survival; it's about power. She’s the sun, and everyone else is just a planet caught in her gravity, waiting to be incinerated.
It’s a complicated dynamic. In one scene, she's tucking him in, and in the next, she’s handing him a gun. It makes you wonder: was Kanan born bad, or did Raq just bake the evil into him? Most crime dramas focus on the "what." This show focuses on the "why."
The 90s Aesthetic Isn't Just for Show
Usually, 90s nostalgia is just a bunch of bucket hats and a Biggie soundtrack. Power Book III: Raising Kanan uses the setting as a character. The 1990s in South Jamaica, Queens, wasn't a vibe—it was a war zone. The crack era was peaking. The music was transitioning. The fashion was a suit of armor.
The production design here is top-tier. You’ve got the grainy film quality, the specific shade of New York orange in the streetlights, and the heavy leather jackets that look like they weigh fifty pounds. It feels lived-in. When Kanan walks down the street, you can almost smell the exhaust and the asphalt. It’s not a polished, "Hollywood" version of the hood. It’s visceral.
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Breaking Down the Family Tree (It’s Messy)
The Thomas family is a wreck. You’ve got Marvin and Lou-Lou, Raq’s brothers. They represent the two halves of the life. Marvin is the muscle—prone to explosive, terrifying rages but also capable of weirdly touching growth. His relationship with his daughter Jukebox is probably the most tragic storyline in the series. Then you have Lou-Lou, the soul of the operation who just wants to make music and escape.
He won't escape. Nobody ever does in this world.
The show excels at showing the collateral damage of the drug trade. It’s not just about the people getting shot. It’s about the girl who wanted to be a singer (Jukebox) becoming the cold-hearted cop we saw in the original series. Seeing Hailey Kilgore play Jukebox as this vulnerable, talented kid is heart-wrenching because we know where she ends up. We know she becomes the person who kidnaps a girl and holds her for ransom.
- The Detective Howard Twist: This was the moment the show shifted gears. Finding out the cop chasing the family is actually Kanan’s father? That’s some Greek tragedy business right there. Omar Epps brings a tired, cynical energy to Howard that contrasts perfectly with the Thomas family’s frantic ambition.
- The Unique Factor: Joey Bada$$ as Unique is a revelation. He’s not just a rival; he’s a philosopher-king of the streets. His dialogue is rhythmic, almost poetic. The way his arc shifts from Raq’s mortal enemy to an uneasy ally is one of the best "slow burn" developments on TV.
Why the Critics Are Finally Catching On
For a long time, the Power universe was dismissed as "soap opera for the streets." It was seen as high-octane melodrama with no substance. Power Book III: Raising Kanan changed that narrative. It has a 91% on Rotten Tomatoes for a reason. The writing is tighter. The stakes feel more personal. It’s less about the "hustle" and more about the psychological toll of being a soldier in a war you didn't start.
The show tackles things like trauma, homophobia in the Black community, and the failure of the American dream without being "preachy." It just shows it. It lets the characters live in the gray areas. There are no heroes here. Just people trying to get through the day without getting a bullet in the head or a pair of handcuffs on their wrists.
Common Misconceptions About Kanan’s Origin
A lot of fans thought this show would just be a series of "Easter eggs" for the original series. People expected to see a young Ghost and Tommy in every episode.
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The showrunners were smarter than that.
By keeping Ghost and Tommy off-screen for the early seasons, they allowed Kanan to stand on his own. We get to see him as a kid who was actually good at school. He was smart. He could have been anything. That makes his descent into the drug trade even more frustrating. It wasn't inevitable. It was a choice—or rather, a series of choices forced upon him by a mother who couldn't imagine a life outside the game.
The Sound of Queens
The music in Power Book III: Raising Kanan deserves its own Emmy. It’s not just a "Greatest Hits of 1991" playlist. The score, composed by Ali Shaheed Muhammad and Adrian Younge, is soulful and moody. It feels like a neo-noir. And let’s not forget the theme song, "Part of the Game." It’s a banger. It sets the tone perfectly: "I'm from where the beef is settled with the metal."
It’s authentic. When you hear a track playing in the background of a basement party or a club, it fits the specific month and year the episode is set in. That level of detail matters. It builds trust with the audience.
What to Watch For in the Upcoming Seasons
If you're caught up, you know the board has been reset. The alliances are fractured. Raq is losing her grip, and Kanan is starting to realize that his mother is his greatest enemy. The tension is unbearable.
- The Rise of the Italian Mob: The introduction of the Italian crime families in New Jersey and New York adds a whole new layer of danger. It’s not just street-level stuff anymore; it’s organized crime on a massive scale.
- Kanan’s Independence: We are finally seeing Kanan branch out on his own. He’s tired of being Raq’s puppet. This is where the "Kanan" we knew in Power really begins to take shape. He’s becoming colder. More calculated.
- Jukebox’s Transformation: Keep an eye on her. The more she loses—her girlfriend, her relationship with her father, her trust in Raq—the more she hardens. Her path is arguably more tragic than Kanan's because she had so much more light in her to lose.
Honestly, the show is a masterclass in pacing. It doesn't rush to the "big moments." It lets you sit with the characters in their quiet, desperate moments. You feel the heat of the summer. You feel the cold of the betrayal.
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Actionable Insights for Fans and Newcomers
If you haven't started Power Book III: Raising Kanan, you’re missing out on the best entry in the franchise. It’s the most "prestige TV" the Power universe has ever been. For those looking to get the most out of the experience, here is how to dive in:
Watch with a critical eye on Raq's manipulation.
Pay attention to how Raq frames her demands. She almost always starts with "I'm doing this for you." It's a classic gaslighting technique. Once you see it, you can't unsee it, and it makes her character ten times more fascinating.
Don't skip the "boring" parts.
The scenes where Lou-Lou is in the studio or Marvin is in his anger management classes might seem like filler, but they aren't. They are the emotional heart of the show. They show what these people could have been if the world hadn't chewed them up.
Track the outfits.
Seriously. The costume design by Tsigie White is intentional. As Kanan gets deeper into the game, his clothes change. He moves from kid-like streetwear to the heavier, more imposing "hustler" uniform. It’s visual storytelling at its finest.
Pay attention to the background characters.
The show is great at world-building. Characters who seem like one-off cameos often return three episodes later with a major role. It rewards you for paying attention.
If you want to understand the modern TV landscape of "anti-hero" stories, this is the one to study. It’s a grim, beautiful, and violent look at how a person loses their humanity piece by piece. You might come for the action, but you'll stay for the heartbreak. It’s not just a show about drug dealers; it’s a show about the American nightmare. And right now, nobody is doing it better than this crew in Queens.