Growing Up With The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

The term “‘90s sitcom” has become white noise. Thanks in part to the fight to secure streaming rights to all the iconic, nostalgia-inducing titles of yesteryear, it feels like the term has been uttered to the point of semantic satiation. But like all cliches, there was and remains a specific logic behind the catchall. The term harks back to a time when network television still ruled and thanks to cable syndication, a sitcom about a troubled teen from West Philadelphia sent to live with his wealthy cousins in Los Angeles that ended before you learned how to speak could somehow become as core to your being as anything else you encountered in your formative years.

It was with the recognition of this peculiar fact that I and likely thousands of others of a certain age tuned in to watch “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air Reunion” on HBO Max this past Thursday. What we were met with was not a simple rehashing of the show’s greatest moments, nor, to the chagrin of some, a new in-character episode, but something that was more illuminating. As meaningful as a network television show can be for the audience, it pales in comparison to the intensive, years-long experience of those responsible for making one. It’s the depth and life-altering scope of such an undertaking that the reunion tries to get across. The special, which runs just a little over an hour long, gives a peek into the methodical, dizzying, and intimate experience of bringing six seasons and 148 episodes of one of the decade’s most revered family sitcoms to life. It’s a story filled with immense joy, sadness and, much like the show itself, a group of people learning, growing, and changing with and because of one another.

When the show premiered in September of 1990, it was an instant hit and sent 21-year-old Will Smith careening down the path to international stardom. But neither he nor really anyone else saw it coming. Early in the special, Smith recalls a fateful meeting with Quincy Jones at the legendary music producer’s birthday party. Benny Medina had already told Smith about his idea for a show based on his life growing up in Watts and being uprooted to Beverly Hills as a teenager. Jones, who was considering joining the project as a producer, wanted Smith, a rapper with no acting experience, to be the lead. “So here’s the deal: right now, everybody who needs to say yes for this show is sitting out in that living room,” Smith said Jones told him during a quick pep talk in his Grammy-filled home office. Smith took ten minutes to prepare, auditioned for a pair of NBC executives in the middle of the party, and a deal memo was signed that night.

Not every moment is tinged with such pleasant serendipity. The reunion also confronted some of the more callous realities of 90’s Hollywood with a surprising sensitivity and candor. The most poignant moment was delivered via Smith’s reconciliation with Janet Hubert-Whitten, the actress who originated the role of Vivian Banks and whose departure at the end of the third season was marred by intra-cast feuding and disparaging press coverage. When the pair meet one-on-one in the empty audience bleachers of a soundstage, it is apparently the first time they are seeing one another in 27 years. We learn that during her final season on the show, unbeknownst to the rest of the cast, Hubert-Whitten was struggling to manage a pregnancy while ensnared in a “very abusive” relationship. Compounding her troubles at home were contract disputes with NBC, which had apparently opted to recast the role rather than accommodate her desire for increased pay. Hurting and feeling betrayed, Hubert-Whitten said she withdrew from her cast mates, causing them and particularly Smith to think ill of her. “Calling a dark skin black woman ‘difficult’ is the kiss of death. The kiss of death,” she told Smith as tears welled in his eyes.

It’s during moments like this, as well as each cast member’s loving remembrance of the late James Avery, in which the rosy fantasy of my childhood began to peel away and something like a real family — with all its attendant care, shame, and loss — started to emerge. “Think about people you see every single day for six years of your life. You see them more than you see your own family,” actress Tatianna Ali remarked at one point. As the reunion neared its end and the cast looked back on the show’s final days, it became clear that we were watching a group of people who not only helped create a cultural phenomenon, but also engaged in a strange and unique ritual with one another. It’s something you can’t script.

Originally Appeared on GQ