“EASTSIDERS,” PART 1: MY DYSFUNCTIONAL RELATIONSHIP WITH A SHOW ABOUT A DYSFUNCTIONAL RELATIONSHIP

It’s a show I passed on so many times. It would pop up repeatedly on my Netflix menu under the category “LGBTQ shows” or “Because you watched The Politician”. I’d pause and read the description:

His relationship has started to fall apart. It’s

probably just a coincidence that it happened

on the Mayan apocalypse.

Nope. Never. You lost me at Mayan apocalypse. Wouldn’t have mattered if it had been an Incan apocalypse or a Mesopotamian or even a Martian one. (Most definitely not a Martian one! That Marvin dude has always creeped me out.) Anything having any connection to any apocalypse is always going to be a hard no for me. (All right, this one song is okay, but that’s it, I swear.) Not my idea of an entertaining scenario.

And sidenote to Netflix. I did NOT watch “The Politician.” Two episodes. I kept waiting for Bette Midler to appear. Or for even one of the characters to be remotely likable. Neither happened. It’s been so long since a Ryan Murphy project has made me Glee-ful.

Sometime in the fall, “Eastsiders” popped up again and I caved. I don’t know when; I don’t know why. I’m guessing it was on one of those thrilling Saturday nights after I’d finished my can of tomato soup dinner and transferred the laundry from the washer to the dryer and run out of surfaces to test out my life-changing new purchase, the Magic Eraser. (Seriously. Try one!) I’d finally finished watching “Schitt’s Creek”—last person aboard that bandwagon—and shows Netflix listed as trending just weren’t doing it for me. (I’m not even sure Netflix knows the meaning of the word. How could “The Gilmore Girls,” which ended in 2007, possibly be trending?) Maybe it was indeed the apocalypse. I pointed the remote at the TV screen. Go ahead. Take me to the east side.

First off, whoever wrote the description for the show should be fired (along with the person or the algorithmic thingy that determines what is trending). I just Googled and discovered that the Mayan apocalypse was apparently a somewhat hyped thing. The world was supposed to end on December 21, 2012. Guess we know how that turned out. (Although I’m thinking there are probably some QAnon disciples who believe it actually happened.) As it turns out, said apocalypse was simply an excuse for a costume party that plays out in the first episode of “Eastsiders”. It’s not in any way essential to the plot.

Whew.

I went straight to the next episode, partly due to my surprise that the pilot was only fourteen minutes and partly because of Netflix’s annoying habit of giving me only nine seconds, affording me no time to prepare an Amber alert for my wayward remote control. (How does my remote control always wind up wedged between my duvet and sheets, somewhere near the foot of the bed?)

I wasn’t particularly drawn to the gay characters, centering on Cal and Thom, a dysfunctional couple with Thom cheating from the outset. The standout character was the equally flawed Kathy, played confidently by a pre-“Fresh off the Boat,” pre-“Crazy Rich Asians” Constance Wu. She stole every scene, so fully committed to her self-absorbed character. (Sadly, Wu only makes a couple of cameos in the three seasons following the first. Bigger commitments, no doubt.) I suppose another draw for me was that the show is set in Silver Lake, a diverse, somewhat sketchy neighborhood in east L.A. where my first long(ish)-term boyfriend lived back in 1991. (I’m told it’s gotten much hipper in the years since.)

So Thom, a fledgling writer recently published in the prestigious Paris Review, is a cheater. Naturally, Cal, also fledgling but as a photographer who sits idly behind a desk at an art gallery, responds by drinking excessively, sulking and...cheating...with the same guy, Jeremy. Like I said, dysfunctional. (And, again, it wasn’t a good sign that I liked Jeremy’s character better than either Thom or Cal. Jeremy seems to know what he’s doing, but he’s being played by this messed up gay couple. Jeremy comes off as wanting a relationship more than either of the guys that are actually in one.) Tom and Cal’s occupations don’t really matter. The show is mostly about drinking a lot, having sex a lot, talking a lot and ever-moody Cal hating Thom while also loving him. (There’s regular mention of Cal having anxiety but, while this is told to the audience, it’s not shown. This would have made Cal more interesting, more sympathetic. I’m thinking the actor, Kit Williamson (also the creator and main writer of “Eastsiders”), may have tried to portray anxiety somewhere along the way, but just didn’t have the acting chops. Listless and sulky? Got it. Anxious? Um, thanks for telling me.

If I’m not selling this much it’s because, yeah, I’m not.

I shrugged through the nine-episode first season, continuing to watch it on other equally (un)eventful Saturday nights, invariably after having watched something else and sitting in bed not quite tired enough to fall asleep. There it was, staring at me in my “Continue Watching” queue, right next to “The Politician.” Fine. Another episode. As unenthused as I was, it felt like harmless filler, each installment ranging from eleven to twenty minutes. Maybe it would make me sleepier. (Again, not a resounding endorsement for a show.)

The best part of the show was the music. The end of each episode usually played out to an indie alt-folk/rock song or a catchy, clubby song that had me Shazam-ing on my phone (when I could find it during yet another round of Hide and Seek among the bed covers). These were songs I would not hear anywhere else. Songs that might have had a shot on “This Is Us.” Songs like “Make Our Own Way” by Little Brutes, “Beautiful Mess” by Teneia, “I Adore U” by former American Idol and RuPaul’s Drag Race contestant Adore Delano (aka Danny Noriega), “EverythingYou Touch Turns to Gold” by Logan Lynn and the slightly familiar “I’m Not Madonna” by Hi Fashion. There was even a Nelly Furtado song, “Magic,” that was released after radio decided it was over her. (A shame.)

By the end of the first season, I wasn’t exactly enthralled. I figured I’d given it a shot. Better than a show about an apocalypse, but that’s not high praise. I’d had enough.

But apparently I hadn’t. You are very perceptive, Dear Reader. You noticed it said “Part 1” in the blog post’s title. Reward yourself. Extra brownie! Or, if you’re like me, finish off that pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream. (We like Ben and Jerry. Good people.) Don’t fret over potential weight gain. It’s still COVID. No one’s going to see you. (You are doing your part to help end this thing, aren’t you? Another excuse for your reward!)

Just like Thom and Cal, I had my own dysfunctional relationship with the show itself. A bigger problem surfaced after the first season.