The Queer Poignancy of "Somebody Somewhere"

The new HBO series shows that queer life in small town America doesn't have to be tragic.

I first heard about the new HBO series Somebody Somewhere from The Washington Post, where Inkoo Kang described it as the first great series of 2022. Though I was a bit hesitant to take a critic’s word for it–I rarely agree with the critical reception of anything–I figured that it would still be worth a watch, more out of curiosity than anything else. As soon as I started watching it, however, I knew that Kang had hit the nail right on the head. This show really is that good.

Certainly, a lot of the show’s quality stems from the performance of Bridget Everett, who plays Sam, a middle-aged bartender who experiences something of a mid-life crisis after her sister’s death. Slogging away at a testing center in her hometown of Manhattan (Kansas), she soon reconnects with a high school friend, Joel (played by the divine Jeff Hiller), who introduces her to the surprisingly vital queer underground in this small town in the middle of America’s heartland. The members of this club include both Joel’s boyfriend Michael (Jon Hudson Odom) and, arguably the series’ most fascinating character, Fred Rococo (Murray Hill). As the series goes on, Sam finds solace in her friendship with Joel, even as she also has to deal with a myriad of family problems, including her mother’s alcoholism, her strained relationship with her surviving sister, and her brother-in-law’s infidelity.

Everett is nothing short of captivating as Sam, and she brings out the many complexities of her character, providing a poignant portrait of a woman struggling with profound grief. What really stood out to me about this series, however, was how powerfully it captured the life of queer life in small town America. It would have been very easy for the series to paint Joel and his compatriots as sad outcasts struggling to find meaning and acceptance, but instead it depicts them as a vibrant and lively group who, it seems, wouldn’t be anywhere else but where they are.

To begin with, there’s Joel, who is remarkable for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that he is a person of deep religious faith. One of the season’s key storylines involves his decision to hold “choir practice”--essentially a queer social hour–in the church after hours, unbeknownst to its leadership. For Joel, this represents a moral quandary, particularly once the minister asks him to become a lay preacher. Ultimately, he refuses, because he knows that he can’t do it in good conscience. The truth is, though, that his faith is an essential part of who he is, and try as he might he can’t quite escape it. Once again, it would have been very easy to show Joel as feeling some sort of essential conflict between his and his sexuality, but Somebody Somewhere instead does something simpler but more radical, giving us a middle-aged queer man who is utterly at peace with who he is and with his God (for more insight into Hiller’s own religious experiences, check out this piece). And, even though his relationship with Michael doesn’t work out, it’s not portrayed in such a way that would render it nothing more than a bit of queer tragedy. Indeed, it’s precisely its understatement–the actual breakup occurs off-screen–that makes it all that much more touching.

There’s no doubt, however, that it’s Fred Rococo who is the most exuberantly queer resident of Manhattan. He’s clearly a man and lives his life as such, but there are moments where those outside the queer community are confused, as when a server seems perplexed about whether to call him “sir.” Once again, though, the series doesn’t belabor the point, and Fred takes it all in stride. It’s impossible not to love Rococo, who embodies all of the many contradictions of queerness, living out and proud in a part of the country that is noted for its conservatism (as this piece shows, I’m not the only one who is a little in love with this character). More than anything else, though, Fred is full of powerful empathy, acting not just as the de facto leader of the queer community but also doing everything that he can to help Sam’s father with his farming (did I mention that Fred is also a successful professor at the local university?) and lending a sympathetic ear when Ed and his struggles with his wife’s alcoholism. 

Time and again, we see the extraordinary community that these queer people have developed in this little bit of the heartland. Even after choir practice stops taking place at the church, they still manage to get together, whether in Fred’s converted bomb shelter or the barn on Sam’s parents’ property. It’s in the latter that Sam delivers what is arguably the best musical number of the entire series, when she thanks Joel for his friendship and his endless compassion. “I am home,” she sings in conclusion, and it’s a remark that applies as much to the queer people that have welcomed her with open arms as it does to Sam herself. Manhattan is their home, and it seems that they are happy there

In some ways, Somebody Somewhere is like almost nothing else on television. Unlike many recent dramedies, which tend to skew toward the drama and only barely touch the comedic, this series has attained a rare balance between its two elements, and almost every episode evokes both guffaws of simply joyous laughter and tears of genuine pathos.  If I had to compare it to any other show, I’d have to say that it shares some DNA with Schitt’s Creek, particularly in the sensitivity with which it treats small-town queer life. Just as Dan Levy’s masterpiece gave us a village where homophobia just doesn’t seem to exist, so Somebody Somewhere gives us something similar, a feat all that much more extraordinary in that Kansas of all places is not especially known for being welcoming to queer folks of any variety. 

If you know anything about me, you know that I write and think a lot about the lives of rural and small town queer folk. Growing up in a small town in West Virginia, I often struggled to find myself on the screen–though I, like many other queer viewers, grew very skilled at interpolating myself where I wasn’t really intended to be–and I can’t help but think what a godsend a series like Somebody Somewhere would have been to that young queer T.J. angsting about queer love and desire and all of the contradictions of gay life.

All I can say is that thank goodness we have it now, and I can’t wait to see what the second season has in store.