A conversation with myself about Heated Rivalry

About a month too late, I had a conversation with myself about the gay hockey show that is taking a corner of the internet by storm.

It’s the start of the year, and my critical brain isn’t quite in full swing yet, so in the time-honoured tradition popularised, but probably not created, by The Spinoff, a conversation with myself about Heated Rivalry and why I might not have liked it so much.

Me: So I watched Heated Rivalry, despite saying I probably wouldn’t (or wouldn’t unless it was made convenient for me).

Me, but Not in Bold: I’m you, so I already know what you thought of it, but for the sake of this contrived and constructed format: oh yeah, how did you find it?

Look, let’s get into it–

Before we do, should we actually give a run down of what the series is?

Sure, why not.

Heated Rivalry is a Canadian show based on a series of novels by Rachel Reid, revolving around two hockey players who are set up as rivals but – gasp – they fall for each other. There is a lot of gay sex. It also, apparently, at one point, was Stucky fanfiction and if you can google what that is yourself.

It’s taken a certain large corner of the internet over completely, which I assume we’ll get into. But first, what did you think of it?

If I was a different person, I might’ve liked it. I’m not, so I didn’t.

That feels like a very diplomatic response that might be better suited to an interaction you have to have with a friend about their art, as opposed to a series which is beloved by most people who have seen it.

What didn’t you like about it?

Again, with the caveat that I am not the target audience for this show, it’s not really what I want from my television or my queer art. Romance, as a genre, is not really for me. Which isn’t to say that I can’t appreciate romance within other genres – god knows I love a love story – but this particular genre with its attending tropes and conventions, has never really been for me.

Aside from that, though.

Nothing really gripped me about the show, and it felt like there were so many barriers to keeping me out if the core premise – two queer hockey players fall for each other, have sex, have to hide it – didn’t hook me in.

Structurally, it’s kind of a mess. It jumped through time in the way that you can in a novel, but not necessarily in a TV series. Every scene that didn’t feature the two leads opposite each other – with one exception – was laden with exposition and subtext that leans way more into “text” than “sub”.

To labour a metaphor, every scene that wasn’t a love scene or a prelude to a love scene felt like it was tiresomely ladelling gravy on the plate, and the love scenes were absolutely devouring the gravy.

You’re right! That metaphor is laboured.

So what about those scenes, then? The love – and let’s be honest, sex – scenes were hot, right?

Sure! Not what I watch TV for, but sure. I was admittedly surprised at how explicit those scenes were, but once that wore off, I was like, “Oh sure! Good for them.”

Did you like the lead actors?

Okay, so.

While the two leads – Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie – definitely have chemistry, I think they’re not quite up to the demands of the genre, which requires a very specific kind of acting.

So they’re not good in the show?

To be blunt: No. But they’re comparatively inexperienced actors who have to do a lot of heavy lifting. Certain genres, which deal in certain tropes, require different kinds of acting. Take action, for example, you have to actually believe that the actor is physically doing the things they are doing, when they absolutely are not, and it takes a toll on them. Some people are really good at this kind of acting – see Keanu Reeves, Charlize Theron, Michelle Yeoh – and some people absolutely can’t do it.

Romance is no different. I think they nail certain parts – mainly the chemistry – but any scene that requires them to deliver exposition, or get us to buy into the stakes of anything outside of the relationship – fails. Actors who are good at this kind of acting make us believe in the utterly implausible. Meg Ryan in the 90s is a great example of this; she’s charismatic as all hell, but she’s able to sell the reality of a fantasy.

It’s a difficult job, and while I can only assume they’ll be better in the inevitable second season, they don’t quite nail it here.

It’s actually why my favourite episode of the season was the one that followed Scott (Francois Arnaud) and Kip (Robbie G.K)! Not only did it feel more real to life – but both of those actors can do the heavy lifting of making exposition feel like subtext, and carrying the stakes from scene-to-scene.

You might be in the minority there.

I’m well aware that I’m the minority when it comes to this show, overall!

What a seamless segue. You’d think that you’d be in the target audience, being a gay man, right?

Thank you for that question that is absolutely not leading at all. When this series was first bubbling up on my radar – early December, maybe late November at the earliest – I was like, “Oh cool! A gay show. Well done, I might get around to it at some point.”

The first people I heard about this show were from women, and predominantly straight women.

This can’t have been your first experience with straight women enjoying art about queer men?

As someone who grew up on the internet in the aughts and who has read his fair share of fanfiction, I am well acquainted with the concept of fujoshi. It’s just the first time that I’ve encountered it outside of a screen and in the quote-unquote wild.

So how’s that?

It’s definitely made me understand the show’s appeal a lot more! While I’m sure there are a lot of queer men who enjoy Heated Rivalry, for the obvious reasons that queer men might enjoy a show where two conventionally attractive men have sex with each other a lot, there is the gauze of fantasy over it all that absolutely tracks with what I know about women who enjoy M/M fanfiction.

I can absolutely see the comfort aspect here. I can see the wish fulfillment. I can see the spectacle. I can see the appeal. There’s nothing wrong about any of it, and nothing wrong about being a fan of it.

Does a show about two gay men that primarily seems to have a female audience make you uncomfortable?

Not inherently. As I said, I’ve known about fujoshi for most of my adult life, and my brain is switched on enough to imagine that for every female fan of M/M fanfic online, there’s presumably a female fan offline. I’m not here to yuck anybody’s entirely legal yum.

The level of fandom is something that I find more unfamiliar than anything else, and that it seems to have broken containment into actual real life conversations for me. Which is cool! There’s a lot of content about queer men that I wish had the same level of engagement from this audience. 

That doesn’t answer the question.

It doesn’t, does it? Discomfort is not the right word. Unfamiliar is.

I’m deeply aware that nobody is watching Heated Rivalry thinking that it’s Giovanni’s Room. It’s comfort television. That’s completely fine. It’s just a new experience for me: seeing people I know in real life, rather than people I know through a screen enjoying something that is like a funhouse mirror version of my experience. By which I mean the queer male experience, I have very few parallels with the characters of Heated Rivalry.

So what’s your conclusion?

I think it’s what I started with, which is probably frustrating.

If I was a different person, I might have liked it more. I’m not, so I didn’t.

But I’m happy for those different people.

Will you watch season two?

Look, probably.

Heated Rivalry can be watched on some streaming service somewhere, depending on where you live.