I recently read a book called Let’s Get Back to the Party by Zak Salih. More than anything, I appreciated the setup: two gay childhood friends who’ve drifted apart, now at midlife, both single, one intrigued by the sexually freer (AIDS-unaware) generation that preceded him, the other marveling at the openness and freedoms taken for granted by the generation that follows. (In truth, the premise is better than the telling.) I suppose I’ve, on occasion, looked in either direction as well. What would life have been like if my coming out years weren’t mired by the omnipresent leeching of the AIDS specter? Conversely, what if there had been established rights and freedoms with marriage a viable option and coming out being a stage to navigate without so much drama?
It’s the relative normalcy of coming out for a younger generation that unfolds endearingly in the eight-episode series “Heartstopper,” adapted from a graphic novel by Alice Oseman and currently streaming on Netflix. Coming out still has its share of angst, particularly since the series is set in a private English high school for boys. The fusion of angst and adolescence will always be. New zit? Drama. Crush in danger of being revealed? Drama. I think I’m gay? Okay, still exponentially more drama. The easiest way to survive high school may always be fitting in rather than being different.
The two main characters are Charlie Spring, an outed gay student in grade ten, who is considered a geeky outcast, and Nick Nelson, a popular, seemingly straight grade eleven student who is the star of the rugby team. It’s a familiar scenario; for me, it’s reminiscent of the 1986 movie “Pretty in Pink,” but many other shows and books may come to mind. The difference, of course, is this is a teen romance in which both leads are male. Imagine having this as something to watch (repeatedly) to find hope, connection and courage while coming to terms with one’s identity.
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| Nick & Charlie |
If there’s a twist, it’s that Nick’s sexuality isn’t so clear. Liking boys isn’t something he sensed and repressed at six or ten or twelve. Charlie awakens altogether new thoughts in Nick. What is this attraction? Is Nick gay? Bisexual? The bisexuality bent is refreshing since, while it’s long been part of LGBTQ, it hasn’t been given its due. I still hear people derisively dismiss bisexuality as a temporary phase or stepping-stone for people regarded as still having a foot in the closet.
Being a high school story, there has to be a bully and in this case it’s Harry Greene, one of Nick’s rugby mates, a rich kid who loves to ridicule Charlie and Charlie’s geeky friends. In Harry’s mind, it’s always done in jest. If the laugh should come at someone’s expense, it’s perfectly all right when the person is clearly beneath him.
Nick and Charlie’s worlds would never intersect but for being seated side by side for one of their classes. A friendship forms but Charlie’s feelings seem to go beyond that. It’s the standard situation of This is crazy…What could a guy like him possibly see in me? Of course, there’s the addendum: What could possibly happen between a straight, popular jock and a gay geek? We’re told many times that Nick will only hurt Charlie, particularly since Nick is so entrenched in the macho-infused rugby scene. But Nick never seems to even feign to be a tough guy or a ladies’ man akin to, say Danny Zuko in “Grease.” As a viewer, I never doubted Nick’s sweetness, but then I’m not a high school kid, imagining a dozen doomsday scenarios and interpreting a blank face as conveying a four negative emotions. I can recall this kind of customary teen angst if I let my memory stretch back that far. Frankly, I’d never want to relieve adolescence, no matter how much progress may have been made in terms of LGBTQ acceptance. Gone are the days of phoning someone to be your date to the homecoming dance. (The drama was amped for me living in East Texas where football and dating culture were on steroids.) In “Heartstopper,” there is lots of texting and staring at phone screens, hoping for a response that doesn’t always come. It’s slightly less direct than hearing a voice convey rejection or indifference, but the waits and the worries are still as crushing.
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| Tao and Elle |
Beyond Nick and Charlie, “Heartstopper” has other characters exploring LGBTQ identities. There’s Elle, a Black trans friend who transferred from the boys’ school to a safer, if not more welcoming, private school for girls. She is eventually befriended by two classmates who are a budding lesbian couple, Tara and Darcy. Charlie’s best friend is Tao, a protective, loyal and lippy classmate whom Elle has a crush on. Elle’s identity is not a plotline; rather, it just is. She’s not a spectacle; she’s a person. I suspect her storyline will expand now that Netflix has renewed the series.
Season 1 consists of eight episodes which I breezed through which is not typical of my viewing habits. It’s hard to turn away because it’s so refreshingly charming. You want to root for every character, even perhaps Harry Greene and Charlie’s past, still-closeted fling/boyfriend, Ben. As a bonus, Nick’s mother is played by much-lauded actress Olivia Colman. There’s not much for her to do—indeed, her scenes were filmed over the course of two days—but she manages to convey steadfast support and concern just like Harry Dean Stanton in “Pretty in Pink.” There’s also a Black gay art teacher whose classroom always seems to be empty and who offers Charlie lite advice while always seeming to be on the way out. The room is both a safe space and a spot for Charlie to hide from dealing with his life. A bonus in the series is its fun, hip soundtrack, something like the music was in—yes, again—“Pretty in Pink” back in the day. A song that stood out for me was “Why Am I Like This?” by Orla Gartland.
“Heartstopper” is the kind of show for which the term “feel-good” was coined as a descriptor. It goes down easy and left me with a smile after each episode. It’s worth a watch.
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