top of page


#209: HEARTSTOPPER, OR SOLVING THE FRED AND GINGER PROBLEM. Netflix has recently imported the eight-part British streaming series “Heartstopper,” based on Alice Oseman’s wildly successful online comic. It was enhaloed in the British press as an enormous step forward in LGBTQ+ representation: it asked the audience to receive a show aimed in part at younger viewers that was an outrightly heartwarming story about a gay crush ending in reciprocated affection. There was a noted dramatic absence of drugs, booze, sex and swearing—it was, God save us, wholesome. It also tripped past, without so much as a by-your-leave, the old convention that a gay romance was going to be an exercise in sturm und drang as well as rejection and misery. It will be, I suppose, in some peril of being discussed and judged purely in terms of the issues of gay representation, even if the judgement is likely to be friendly. Indeed, it was in danger of being swamped in praise: Rebecca Nicholson in the Guardian called it “possibly the loveliest show on tv,” and wrote “it leaves the sensation of being on the receiving end of a solid hug.” Cynic that I am, I rush to say that “Heartstopper” is not the kind of heartwarming that makes you want to run for a bottle of gin or mouthwash after viewing it; quite the opposite. Oseman oversaw the adaptation, which keeps it crisp and vivid, and the director Euros Lyn blends a group of largely first-time actors with a few old pros—Olivia Colman, for one, whom I would cheerfully watch sleep on a couch, and, yes, that’s Stephen Fry voicing the eupeptic bleat of the school principal. The story’s source as an online comic surfaces in the visuals, ever so lightly used: split screens, animated background touches, an abortive touching of hands that throws off sparks and buzzes.

The two protagonists are Charlie (Joe Locke), much given to apologizing for existing and who’s been outed before the story begins, and Nick (Kit Connor), the rugby team stalwart, whose friends are all trying to fix him up with an appropriate girl. As the two become friends they complete the full requisite catalogue of romantic activities: taking selfies together and texting each other practically by the minute, right down to snowball fights and doing snow angels. The trick is that while they’re doing this Charlie has no idea whether Nick is anything but a “ginormous heterosexual,” as one of Charlie’s worried friends puts it. Charlie’s confidence has been torn up by bullying and plagued by a boy who’s perfectly happy to do a bit of snogging in a deserted classroom but who cuts him nasty in the halls. Charlie’s the fastest runner in the school; he can outrun anything, but emotionally he’s flanked on both sides by uncertainty and frustration.

Nick, unbeknownst to himself, is bisexual (speaking of underrepresented groups), and he’s a bit blindsided by what he feels for Charlie. Here’s where “Heartstopper” dances over the usual mechanical delaying tactics of most straight movie romances, those improbable situations or unconvincingly mulish arguments that stretch a movie out to required feature-film length. (I always think of it as the Fred and Ginger problem—in the Astaire/Rogers movies there’s always a lot of gabble before the orchestra warms up again.) The plot progress in “Heartstopper” is in Nick not only understanding his emotions but expressing them, and learning to dismantle his social identity as a straight boy. His hesitation, his confusion, only plays into Charlie’s quandary, as Charlie is already anxious to be with someone who will acknowledge him. There’s a lovely (sorry, that’s the word) epiphany for Nick when, at a friend’s birthday party, he sees two female friends, a couple who have decided to come out, laughing and kissing on the dance floor. He’s seeing a door blown open, and it’s where he wants to go.

Back to representation. Along with the gay and lesbian characters (Tara and Darcy are an interracial female couple, played by Corinna Brown and Kizzy Edgell—one struggles with her French pronunciation, the other starts food fights) “Heartstopper” casually slips in a trans black female character, and got brownie points for bothering to find a trans black female actress, Yasmin Finney; and for not changing an Asian character, played by an Asian-descent actor, William Gao. If bringing all this up makes you sigh or roll your eyes, remember that it is in living memory (the 1990s) that a movie almost got made casting Julia Roberts as Harriet Tubman. The idiot past is forever at our heels.

(There is also one character invented for the show, Isaac (Tobie Donovan), who doesn’t seem to be representative of anything, and who makes himself a felt, endearing presence almost without any dialogue. It’s worth watching the series just to hear his teasing delivery of the line, “Sorry for…interrupting.”)

Among the praise for “Heartstopper” was a short, felt sigh from Owen Jones, also in the Guardian, regretting that he did not have a show like “Heartstopper” to see when he was growing up, and I suspect that this will be common to older gay viewers. And while I’ve wanted to emphasize that “Heartstopper” is handsomely crafted, well acted and shows the care of a genuine passion project, I also can’t help but think happily about the probable good it will do for younger viewers of all stripes, now while the papers are reporting new waves of school boards removing the supposed depravities of gay-themed books from libraries. “Wholesome” can be used to mean the censored and skittish view of books too polite to speak unwelcome truths; it can also mean books (and shows) that are like bread from the oven, and meals that keep you alive.


Recent Posts

See All


#242. NO SUMMER FRIEND, BUT WINTRY COLD.  Born in 1830, Christina Rossetti was the youngest of four children born to an Italian political exile and an English woman named Frances Polidori—sister to th


#241. THE TALE OF THE HEIKE.  The Genpei war, the late twelfth-century conflict between the Taira and Minamoto clans, echoes throughout the written and dramatic literature of Japan, and surfaces again


#240: I FOUGHT WITH THE WEAPONS OF POETRY.  Back in my movie-devouring college days in the early seventies, I was introduced to the films of the Italian director Pier Paolo Pasolini.  I was young, and


bottom of page