I can’t imagine how vastly my childhood and adolescence would have been changed for the better, had there been a show like Heartstopper around all those decades ago. At a time when hateful “Don’t Say Gay” bills are giving them the impression that being anything but straight is wrong, something shameful that’s to be hidden, here comes Heartstopper, with its sensitivity and insight, to reassure them that nope, “different” isn’t wrong, it’s just different. It also occurred to me, as I zipped through episodes that went by so fast, I would’ve sworn they were 10 minutes apiece, that this series is going to mean a lot to a whole lotta kids. Heartstopper was exactly what I was so reluctant to admit that I needed after how many years now of absorbing blow after blow, from the pandemic to politics to almost hourly upheaval. They comprise four hours of happiness and hope.Īnd yes, Michael, they are “really sweet.” There is a joy to these eight episodes, to their gentleness and tension, that radiates too brightly to be rejected. But it’s written so earnestly, acted so deftly and directed so thrillingly that its impact is profound.
Its story, if you don’t already know, is pretty simple: Gay boy meets straight boy, straight boy realizes that he’s bisexual, love blossoms, sometimes literally, all around them. It turned out that I needed Heartstopper.
