The time is right for ‘Boondocks’

The year 2007 has been a vibrant one at the intersection of the black popular sphere and mainstream morals. First came the Imus affair, in which an old white man was lambasted for his use of a derogatory word for women, which he attributed to hip-hop culture.

Then, in response to that situation, rap executives were corralled by Oprah Winfrey to defend themselves in an uncomfortable display of cultural class warfare.

Finally, last month, the hip-hop community rallied around a political cause for the first time since Hurricane Katrina, with several artists joining the protests against the treatment of the Jena 6.

It is, in other words, high time for the return of “The Boondocks,” the vicious animated satire that sends up both the particularities of black cultural life and also the clueless, sometimes vindictive outsiders who misunderstand and denigrate it. Based on the defunct daily comic strip of the same name, “The Boondocks” became known during its first season, which aired from November 2005 to March 2006, for its strident irreverence. Ironically, it earned a 2006 NAACP Image Award nomination, which undoubtedly delighted its creator, Aaron McGruder, who skewers the black establishment just as viciously as any of his other targets.

That it does so primarily out of the mouths of young children -- brothers Huey and Riley Freeman, the former a radical, the latter a tough-in-training -- has made the show only more subversive and less comfortable. And though it lacks the topicality of the comic strip, “The Boondocks” rarely feels anything less than current, likely because the tensions it highlights are omnipresent.

By “Boondocks” standards, Monday’s Season 2 premiere (Cartoon Network, 11:30 p.m.) is a bit limp. It begins with an extended riff on a hypothetical sequel to “Soul Plane” (which was released in 2004) in which hijackers attempt to take over a plane operated by the black-run airline NWA. The tagline: “Come see why black incompetence is our funniest weapon in the war on terror!” As an air marshal, 50 Cent mumbles, “I’ll stop those terrorists . . . or die trying,” parodying the title of his debut album, “Get Rich or Die Tryin’.” (50 is voiced by an actor, Affion Crockett, but it’s noteworthy just how many celebs are willing to poke fun at themselves for “The Boondocks.” In this episode, Snoop Dogg -- a game self-caricaturist -- reprises his role as the weed-happy pilot of “Soul Plane.”)

The Freeman family’s trip to the movie theater to see the sequel, though, is the episode’s real subject -- Granddad’ sneaking the family in without paying; Riley covertly filming the movie on his camcorder; Huey attempting to unionize the cinema employees; all three are at one anothers’ throats.

Too much time is spent on minor foibles, though, such as Granddad’s overreaction to rising movie prices, and sideways jabs at the movie industry’s anti-piracy efforts. Uncle Ruckus, a fixture of last season known for his obeisance to white power, appears as a cinema usher bent on busting the Freemans but isn’t as potent an antagonist as he’s previously been. And other vivid secondary characters, like the yupwardly mobile black lawyer Tom Dubois, have yet to appear.

Pushing buttons

McGruder still has the gift of shock, though. When Huey asserts that the original “Soul Plane” was “about as funny as a lynching,” Granddad snaps back: “I’ve seen funny lynchings. Roscoe Patterson’s lynching was funny.” Cut to a scene from the 1800s in which Roscoe is loudly and proudly insulting white folks, only to speed away once they overhear him. Granddad then concludes that maybe Roscoe’s lynching wasn’t so funny after all.

This is dark, damaging, potent stuff -- rare for its subject matter and rare for its punch. (Equally rare is the sight of Huey successfully fighting off two white rent-a-cops -- something that would, or could, happen only on animated TV.)

And there’s more to come. Later this season, the Freemans take in Hurricane Katrina refugees and deal with the (fictional) rapper Thugnificent, who moves into their polite ‘burb and forces a class battle.

Sound like familiar turf? Last month, the House Commerce, Trade and Consumer Protection subcommittee held hearings on vulgarity in rap lyrics. Representatives asked clueless, borderline offensive questions, and testimony was given by the rapper and label owner Master P, who apologized for some of his rougher material, and the rapper David Banner, who pointedly, and eloquently, did not.

The affair was neatly parodied on “The Daily Show With Jon Stewart.” That it’ll take McGruder a few months to get around to doing the same is the only true flaw of “The Boondocks.”