The Poignant Intimacy of "Heartstopper"
The new Netflix series shows the quietly radical power of queer love.
Like many other people, I was completely swept away by Hearstopper, the new queer drama streaming on Netflix. Based on the enormously successful web comic of the same name by Alice Oseman, it tells the story of the budding romance between two English teenagers, Charlie and Nick. While the former is a shy, sensitive boy, the latter is the very popular captain of the school’s rugby team. After they’re sat together in class, however, they forge an extraordinary friendship, one which ultimately blooms into an exquisite romance.
I knew going in that I would find this series to be a difficult one to watch, but not for the usual reasons (thankfully, it largely eschews most of the tragic elements so common in queer stories). You see, when I was in high school ages ago, I fell madly, embarrassingly in love with my best friend. It was a flame I’d carry with me through high school and into my college years and beyond. He was always the what-might-have-been and, for much of my youth (and, I’m somewhat abashed to say, my adulthood), he was the bar against which I measured all of my subsequent romances. To put it mildly, in the late-1990s Appalachia of my adolescence, coming out, let alone telling him how I felt, was just too much of a risk. I didn’t want to endanger my relationship; to this day, I haven’t told him (though I’m sure he knows, given how transparent I am with my feelings).
Like many other queer youth of the older millennial set, I often found myself wishing for two things. First of all, I often wished that there was some sort of story that would, if not reflect my experiences, at least provide me some sort of guidance about how to be gay, or perhaps to tell me now to navigate the treacherous waters of teenage desire. To be sure, there were some queer TV offerings of the time that came close. VH1’s Undressed often featured queer storylines, and both Will & Grace and Queer as Folk worked to take queer people mainstream. Though I might not have recognized it at the time, however, the truth is that even these narratives weren’t quite what I was looking for because, as a queer high schooler, they were all potential futures, rather than potential presents. That is to say, because these were all series focused on adults–though Queer as Folk’s Justin was a teenager when the series began–their queer lives and loves were something which might happen in the future, rather than the present in which I currently lived. Secondly, of course, I wished that my friend could or would love me in return and that he could tell me that (he wasn’t, and isn’t, the emotionally available sort, I must admit).
Thus, when I started watching Hearstopper, I had all of this deep emotional baggage in the back of my mind. I saw in Charlie much of my younger self and, in Nick, I saw a (more sensitive and openly affectionate, admittedly) version of the first man who stole my heart. Though there is a bit of a will-they-or-won’t-they dynamic to the series, it’s pretty clear from the beginning that Nick and Charlie are going to get together, and this allows these characters time to grow and to get to know one another, to become friends before they become boyfriends.
Indeed, what especially struck me about the series was just how perfectly it captured the peculiar cadences of young queer love and intimacy; in other words, it was the perfect queer romance. It would have been easy for Heartstopper to lean into the traditional story, one in which Nick is the emotionally unavailable Jock and Charlie the deeply sensitive boy who sands off his rougher edges. Instead, what it gives us is a picture of two young people in love and both of whom are, for the most part, emotionally well-adjusted and able to communicate their feelings for one another. Heartstopper wisely focuses on both characters, allowing us time to get to know them and their individual struggles, whether it’s Charlie’s feeling of being worthless (brought about in part by his toxic relationship with his ex, Ben) or Nick’s slowly realizing he’s bisexual (an extra shout-out to the series for bi-representation!)
A major part of what makes their romance so deeply affecting is its tenderness. Before they finally admit their true feelings for one another, there are several near-misses: Nick almost reaches out to hold a sleeping Charlie’s hand, only to stop at the last moment,; Charlie fantasizes what it would be like if Nick were to be in love with him; and, of course, all of those glorious “hi’s,” all of which help to keep the romantic tension simmering.
It is, however, in their faces that we see just how much they’ve fallen in love with one another. Any time Nick walks into the room, Charlie’s face breaks into a heartbreakingly joyful smile; it’s the look of someone well and truly smitten. However, Nick is just as obvious, in his own way; the series is full of moments in which he simply gazes at Charlie (usually when he’s not aware of it). It’s rare for an adult actor to be able to convey such transparent euphoria, such naked happiness in the simplicity of first love, but for actors this young to achieve such a thing is a testament to their tremendous skill. Even such a simple word as “hi” carries with it a world of feelings.
All of this comes to fruition when, during a rugby match Nick walks off of the field, takes a watching Charlie by the hand, and takes him into the hall, where he tearfully tells him that he doesn’t want them to break up. By this point, Charlie has decided that Nick would be better off without him thinking, wrongly, that he is the source of difficulties in his beloved’s life. Nick, in one of the series’ most poignant and heart-wrenching moments, pours out his heart.
“I don’t want to break up,” he says. “I know people have hurt you, and you feel like I’d be better off without you. But I need you to know that my life is way better because I met you. I do [need to say it] and I’ll keep on saying it until you believe me [...] It’s all worth it, to be with you [...] If you really want to break up, then I would respect your decision, but I want us to be together. You’re my favorite person. I need you to believe me.” There’s so much damn heart in Kit Connor’s performance–the way his lip trembles with emotions, the way his eyes glisten with unshed tears, the way his voice quivers as he struggles to get all of these thoughts into the open, to make Charlie see him as he sees him–that you can’t help but feel with him as he pours all of his feelings. And, with three simple words, “I believe you,” Charlie finally accepts, in a way he hasn’t been capable of before this, that he is worthy of love, that he is valuable, and that Nick won’t treat him in the way he’s been treated before.
To be clear, there is passion here, too. The on-screen chemistry between leads Kit Connor and Joe Locke is truly extraordinary, and they manage to capture both the intensity and the awkwardness of queer teen intimacy. The brilliance of their performance lies in their ability to evoke sweetness and passion in one and the same moment. Whether it’s kissing in the rain–yes, they actually kiss in the rain–or cuddling and kissing, these are two young people desperately in love.
The final scene of the first season is, I think, my favorite. The two of them are lying on the beach, having enjoyed a day at the seaside: Nick has his arm around Charlie, and it’s clear from both of their faces that here, at least, they have found true happiness. By this point, we’ve already seen just how much joy they have at the beach; it’s the place where Nick gleefully announces to the world that he likes Charlie in a non-platonic way, and it’s also the place where he first broaches the subject of coming out. Now, as the season draws to its close, we get to see them just…being together. I can think of few other instances when we’ve gotten to see two young queer people just being thesmelves, totally in love, and the camera lingers over them for just a moment, catching them in this unguarded moment, before cutting to black.
When I finally finished watching this series–I could only watch two episodes at a time because yes, it is that poignant–I was, as they say, very much in my feelings. It wasn’t just that I felt very touched by seeing young love brought so movingly to life on-screen; instead, I couldn’t help but think of all of the might-have-beens in my own life. How might my queer life have been different if I had had a romance like that in my youth? How much more balanced might my own youthful emotions have been if I, like so many of my straight peers, been allowed to fully live my life?
Part of me hopes that Charlie and Nick stay together, that they get to live the life of a high-school-sweethearts-turned-married-couple, as so many of their straight peers have done. Yet even if they don’t, even if they find themselves drifting apart, I can’t help but feel a bit jealous of these young people, who got to have something I never did.
More than anything else, I would say that Heartstopper is a piece of queer utopia. Like other recent series–Schitt’s Creek comes immediately to mind–it gives us a world-as-it-might-be. This is a world in which young men are kind and sensitive, in which the journey to self-discovery is fraught, yes, but not dangerously so. This is a world in which parents love and support their queer children, one in which Nick is blessed to come out to Olivia Colman (who is absolutely and unsurprisingly delightful in her few scenes). It’s one that I earnestly hope comes into being.
Because the ugly truth is that it’s still a tough world for a lot of queer folks out there. As I write this, states like Oklahoma and Florida are leading the way in making life more difficult for queer and trans youth, and there’s little doubt that other states will soon follow suit. However, as I’ve watched Heartstopper become a truly global phenomenon, I’ve been filled with hope for the future. Series like this one show us the quietly radical power of queer love. We can change the world, one story—one life—at a time.