ARD Series “Schwarze Früchte”
Lalo and the Art of Getting Lost

Lalo wants to be an artist, but mostly he stumbles through life – insecure, self-absorbed and never quite in control. “Schwarze Früchte” turns this messiness into sharp television: a story of queer identity, family ghosts and the awkward art of growing up, told with style, wit and a cast that embodies diversity.

By Patrick Heidmann

Germany has had to wait a long time for a character like Lalo. Not so much because the young man in ARD’s Schwarze Früchte is Black and queer – although both, especially in combination, are rarely given space in this country. Rather because Lalo is someone who seems anything but suited to guiding an audience: a little too passive-aggressive, decidedly narcissistic and, at heart, deeply insecure. Which is precisely why one may end up identifying with him far more than is comfortable.

He hadn’t thought strategically about what was missing from German television, explained Lamin Leroy Gibba – creator, showrunner and lead actor of Schwarze Früchte – after the series premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in 2024. “I thought much more about what I personally was missing,” said the Hamburg-born artist. “And not only in terms of Black perspectives, but also stylistically, in terms of tone and a certain sense of humour. I wanted to portray complex characters and, as an actor, explore how far you can go with a contradictory protagonist – one from whom audiences may repeatedly want to distance themselves, while at the same time recognising themselves in his flaws and vulnerability.”

Defined by Uncertainty

In his twenties, Lalo drifts somewhat aimlessly through his hometown, which he shares with Gibba among other things. His studies have been abandoned, his idea of an artistic career is at best vaguely defined, the recent death of his father remains wholly unprocessed, and his relationship with Tobias (Nick Romeo Reimann) – as the very first of eight episodes makes clear – will neither last long nor be easily forgotten from one day to the next.

By his side – or in opposition – is Karla (Melodie Simina), his childhood best friend. At first glance she seems to be at a completely different stage in life: confident, ambitious, and just promoted by an inappropriately overfamiliar boss. Yet behind her tough façade, a deep abyss of doubt is clearly visible.

Between empowerment and cringe comedy

What Gibba and his writers’ room have developed around these two characters is less plot-driven than a careful observation of a process of self-discovery. A search for where one wants to go and who one really is, what it means to truly grow up, and why one’s past so stubbornly holds on. Questions of identity that the series approaches with enormous sensitivity and captures with razor-sharp precision.

Because Lalo in particular repeatedly manoeuvres himself into uncomfortable situations that evoke strong second-hand embarrassment, Schwarze Früchte could easily be described as cringe comedy in the vein of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Though comparisons with Fleabag or Insecure are more fitting. After all, there is a moment of empowerment at play here, when showrunners tell the stories of people rarely granted that space within the white, male mainstream. Which also brings it close to series like Sort Of, Ramy or Please Like Me, where journeys of self-discovery are equally interwoven with the lived realities and experiences of their creators across queerness, race and other cultural backgrounds.

A Black-Queer Statement to German Cinema

That practically all the characters in Gibba’s series are Black and/or queer is, in a way, the whole point – and at the same time it isn’t. While Schwarze Früchte depicts a remarkable variety of Black perspectives and occasionally presents highly specific moments from the emotional and sexual lives of queer people, it never reduces its characters to this alone.

That the ensemble and the team behind the camera are consciously made up of queer and often very young people of colour is, of course, a statement to and for the German film industry – and it does not miss its mark. What Gibba, the directing duo Elisha Smith Leverock and David Uzochukwu, and their collaborators have achieved is extraordinary – from authentic performances to unforced dialogue to a visual style that is both stylish and sexy. In short: Schwarze Früchte is a wonderfully funny and heartbreakingly emotional triumph – one that Germany, in particular, should be grateful for.