David Oyelowo is no stranger to the past. From Ava DuVernay’s Selma, the 2014 Martin Luther King Jr. biopic largely considered to be Oyelowo’s break-out role, to 2023’s Lawman: Bass Reeves miniseries from executive producer Taylor Sheridan — plus many other historical movies in between — it’s safe to say Oyelowo knows his way around a period piece. Apple TV+’s new series Government Cheese might be set in 1960s California, but between its concept and tone, the dramedy allows the established Oyelowo to thoroughly explore new territory. Co-creators Paul Hunter and Aeysha Carr (with Oyelowo as executive producer) share an assured vision, and it’s one speckled with eye-popping production design, surrealist humor, dollops of cultural and religious commentary, a whisper of suspense, and enough magical realism to upend any guesses you may have about this saga’s unexpected trajectory.
That said, one of the risks in playing with the bizarre and magical is a lack of closure. Government Cheese — named after the processed cheese packs distributed to American citizens during World War II — doesn’t flesh out certain themes quite as deeply as it could across the series’ 10 episodes (all of which were provided for review). The implications behind those themes, however, speak louder than words. And unlike Oyelowo’s excellent yet too-brief stint in Government Cheese’s neighbor on Apple TV+, Silo, this series hands him a leading role with meat on its bones.
What Is ‘Government Cheese’ About?

It’s the summer of ’69 in the San Fernando Valley, and Hampton Chambers (Oyelowo) has finally served his time — three years’ worth, in fact. Formerly incarcerated for check fraud and other “various misdeeds,” Hampton expects a warm welcome from his family upon his return to their home in Chatsworth, California. Much to his astonishment, Astoria (Simone Missick), his wife, is frostier than a block of ice encased in steel-enforced concrete, while one of their two sons, Harrison (Jahi Di’Allo Winston), slams the door in his father’s face. Only their other son, the whimsical Einstein (Evan Ellison), seems unbothered, but he’s also taken it upon himself to singlehandedly build a backyard pool.
It’s a shock to the system for Hampton to see his family doing just fine without him. Their chillier reception to his latest get-rich-quick scheme is even more distressing, especially since Hampton is convinced that this one will finally be their big ticket to fortune and fame. Its name? The Bit Magician. What does it do? I’m glad you asked: it’s a self-sharpening drill that will change the mechanist industry. Always a man with a mind too inventive for his own good, Hampton insists the Bit Magician came to him courtesy of a divine vision. As long as he can secure funding from the closest aerospace company, then he can finally achieve his dreams, pay off his debts, and reintegrate with a family who formed a new, self-sufficient shape in his absence.
The “debts” part of that equation is pretty important, too. The fallout from a tragic prison riot has placed Hampton thousands of dollars in debt to a French-Canadian crime family, and they’re impatient. Hampton swears he’s a reformed man of God who can’t be swayed from the righteous path — in other words, no more stealing, lying, or fraud. But with his family’s lives at stake, Hampton, penniless and desperate, might have to immediately return to his old ways. There’s also the matter of whether Hampton’s perplexing, yet pointedly timed, hallucinations are truly signs and portents from heaven. What does God have planned for him? Should Hampton surrender control and let Jesus take the wheel?
‘Government Cheese’ Is One of the Best-Looking Shows on Television

First and foremost, Government Cheese series is an absolute feast for the eyes, a celebration of retro design and saturated colors that will probably draw Wes Anderson comparisons, but exists in conversation with ’60s culture and cinema language rather than mimicking any specific filmmaker. Co-creator Hunter’s Emmy-nominated experience directing high-profile music videos speaks to his eye, but production designer Warren Alan Young does the majority of the heavy lifting, and the attention to detail is deep enough that one can pause on almost any frame and marvel at the accuracy. Every lampshade style, every wallpaper pattern, and every shag carpet within the cluttered, maximalist interiors looks like a grandparents’ home and feels just as lived-in. The baby-blue walls of the Chambers’ house match Astoria’s dress (courtesy of costumer Nancy Steiner), a cue connecting her to the space and foreshadowing her eye for design. Cinematographer Matthew J. Lloyd matches the shade of Hampton’s bright yellow bike with the fruit trees framed on either side of the dirt road he’s wheeling down. Together, everything translates into a series with a seamlessly coherent visual identity and a strikingly confident artistic presence — a standout even within Apple TV+’s catalog.

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Just like the inevitable Anderson comparisons, not every series that dips its toe into the surrealist pond resembles David Lynch. Government Cheese’s most abstract scenes, however, absolutely ring of Twin Peaks’ kooky absurdity — that dreamy sense of bafflement, wonder, and increasingly prominent unease. Government Cheese grounds itself in the iconography of California on the cusp of the ’70s while also tapping into magical realism through the series’ diversions into heightened unreality. Viewers are meant to question how much happens because of divine interference, and how much is just the characters’ imaginations visualized. The historical setting informs our understanding of a Black family living in 1969 suburbia, but Government Cheese never directly interacts with the year’s most turbulent upsets: the Civil Rights Movement, the Vietnam War, and the moon landing, to name a few.
Instead, Government Cheese zeroes in on the Hamptons, their strained relationships, and how the unfulfilled dreams they lost might be within reach again — as long as they’re brave enough to take a leap of faith, metaphorically or religiously. All four of the Hamptons are dreamers searching for identity and self-discovery, and what that looks like for people in different life stages. Astoria, lodged behind an unforgiving secretary’s desk, longs to put her design degree to use. Einstein ignores scholarship offers from Ivy League schools in favor of becoming an Olympic pole-vaulter, and Harrison’s connection to a family friend turned father figure pulls him toward Indigenous culture.
‘Government Cheese’ Is a Showcase for David Oyelowo’s Comedic and Dramatic Range

Image via Apple TV+

As for Hampton, who could fill a graveyard with his failed projects, it’s clear how fervently he wants to commit to his rebirth as an obedient God-follower. Old habits die hard, however, especially when unforeseen circumstances back him into an ethical corner. Death threats aside, Hampton is a superbly engaging and illuminating change of pace for Oyelowo. His natural charisma shifts to match the vibes of an enthusiastic, suave charmer and semi-scoundrel. Except this time, Hampton has finally encountered a problem he can’t salesman his way past: failing at being a good husband and father, and the sting of knowing it’s his responsibility to repair that broken trust. Oyelowo’s performance rises to meet the right notes for an exaggerated, “everything that can go wrong does go wrong” comedy without overplaying into parody, which lets him organically and magnificently play Hampton’s sharper turns into pathos. Meanwhile, Missick’s Astoria is a woman of autonomy and conviction, steady and composed on the outside while internally straining against patriarchal confines. Ellison plays affable with instinctive ease, and Winston demonstrates a superb range of complex, vulnerable emotions.
After an intriguing but somewhat ponderous first half, Government Cheese finds its footing at the halfway point. Once the series gets the extra push of clarity it needs, it doesn’t lift its foot off the gas pedal. Its perfunctory, semi-cliffhanger ending — a foot slammed onto screeching brakes — suits our protagonist: a 1960s Job and Jonah figure in one, someone who could lose everything, tries his best, and still gets swallowed up by a whale (whether the whale is metaphorical or not is for you to find out). Sometimes life moves in ways that feel harmonious, and the rest of the time, there’s no rhythm whatsoever. Absurdist surrealism embraces the fact that life doesn’t make sense, and clear answers always elude us. Government Cheese’s standout moments, while quite sharp, could have benefited from tighter pacing to match, but it’s still a joy to watch a project with its feet on the ground and its head in the clouds, and its leap of faith sticks the landing.
The first four episodes of Government Cheese premiere April 16 on Apple TV+. New episodes air weekly.

Government Cheese

David Oyelowo’s new Apple TV+ dramedy Government Cheese is a surrealist, striking leap of faith that sticks the landing.

Release Date

April 15, 2025

Network

Apple TV+

Pros & Cons

The retro production design, costuming, and cinematography are bold and creative.
David Oyelowo masters this comedic turn and makes for a charming, engaging, and human leading man.
Episode 7 is a standout due to Simone Missick’s performance.