The Dionysian Pleasures of "Queer as Folk"
The newest iteration of the classic queer series has all of the unruly pleasures as its predecessors.
Like many other people, I had some reservations when I heard that there was going to be a reboot of the iconic Queer as Folk. This would, after all, be the third such series with that name, after the original Russell T. Davies series from the late ‘90s and the Showtime version of the early 2000s. What more can this series have to tell us? I thought, followed quickly by, I really hope they don’t fuck this up. My hopes were not raised very much by the revelation that the first season would focus on a group of friends struggling with grief and trauma in the aftermath of a nightclub shooting very much like that at Pulse in 2016. Do we really need to be subjected to this all over again? I wondered. Wasn’t it enough that we had to live through it, without having to experience it on television?
Long story short: I was very hostile toward this show going in. However, as I run a queer culture podcast and, obviously, write a lot about queer stuff here at Omnivorous, I thought it should at least be given a chance. And, reader, I’m glad I watched it. From the first episode to the last, Queer as Folk is a deliriously and deliciously messy romp, a frothy and melodramatic soap opera of the queerest sort, well-deserving all of the praise and viewership it can attain.
Similar to its predecessors, the series is a sprawling story, but it primarily revolves around Brodie (Devin Way), who returns to his hometown of New Orleans and reconnects with various people from his past. These include: his best friend, trans woman Ruthie (Jesse James Keitel) and her spouse, Shar (CG), the latter of whom is pregnant (Brodie is the sperm donor); his ex Noah (Johnny Sibilly) who, unbeknownst to Brodie, is sleeping with the latter’s best friend Daddius (Chris Renfro); his brother Julian (Ryan O’Connell) and adopted mother Brenda (Kim Kattrall; and non-binary teen Mingus (Fin Argus), who falls in love with Brodie after the latter saves their life during the shooting that sets the series’ major plots in motion.
As even this brief summary makes clear, Queer as Folk is a very, very messy show full of very, very messy people. Arguably the messiest of them is Brodie, its main character and the person around whom almost every one of the other storylines revolves. Though he isn’t quite the belligerently recalcitrant character that Brian was, he is still often infuriatingly obtuse as to how his actions will affect others. In one of the season’s most mind-boggling moments, he hires a deaf sex worker for Julian, in the mistaken belief he is doing his sibling (who has cerebral palsy) a favor. Needless to say, it does not go well.
At the same time, however, it is true that many of the other characters too often resort to blaming Brodie for their problems. This is most evident with Ruthie who grows gradually disillusioned with her married life with Shar, even as she has to contend with her obvious romantic feelings for Brodie. However, she frequently blames him for her own actions, mostly because it is easier than contending with them herself. It’s worth noting, though, that Shar is just as chaotic, because they end up having a passionate affair with Brenda, the grandmother of their children. Meanwhile, Noah strikes up a passionate relationship with Julian in the wake of Daddius’ death, a betrayal that wounds Brodie deeply.
Some critics have argued that the series is, at times, too sprawling for its own good (that’s the consensus of the reviews at Rotten Tomatoes, for what that’s worth). Some have also noted that there are times when its dialogue–and its plot–can verge on the ridiculous and the unbelievable. While there might be something to those criticisms, to my mind that misses the entire point of the show which is, to wit, its queerness. What, after all, can be more queer than a show that refuses to obey the logics of “prestige” TV, which is often so dreadfully serious and so often threatens to buckle under the weight of its own pretentiousness? This series, by contrast, gives us all of the sex and scandal and silliness we’ve come to expect, and it’s all the better for leaning into this rather than running away from it.
There is, I think, something very joyfully queer about the entire series and its ethos. It reminds us, insistently, that queer people are messy and, just as importantly, that that’s okay. We don’t have to follow the rules that straight culture so often dictates for our lives and for our stories, and in eschewing the conventions of straight storytelling, Queer as Folk reminds us that the stories we tell ourselves can and should be as fun as the behaviors that inspire them. Does such behavior come with its fair share of risks? Of course it does, but what’s the point of life without a little bit of danger? Hence my title, for if anything represents the Dionysian impulse in the modern world, it’s the sort of queer life–in all of its glorious, hedonistic, orgiastic abandon–depicted on the new version of Queer as Folk. And, make no mistake, this is a very sexy show, and it’s honestly refreshing to see such a frank—and deeply sensual—depicting of queer sex in all of its myriad forms.
I would be remiss if I didn’t talk at least a bit about the shooting. In a less capable show than Queer as Folk, it would indeed have felt crudely exploitative of our collective grief over the events at Pulse, a means of asserting and claiming an undeserved relevance to the present. However, given that mass shootings continue to occur at an alarming rate, and given that we are all living in a state of repetitive trauma given the recent rulings from the Supreme Court, it’s actually quite liberating and exciting to see the extent to which queer people can and do survive even in the midst of constant assaults and challenges to their right to live their lives as they see fit.
As of now, there’s no indication as to whether Peacock will decide to pick up the series for a second season. However, given their willingness to support other similarly joyful series–such as Girls5Eva–I’m optimistic. We certainly deserve to spend more time with these unruly characters.