|
I am a person of easy and sometimes indiscriminate passions, so when I tell you that I am obsessed with the new Crave series Heated Rivalry, you might assume I’m being hyperbolic.
“Sure you are,” you might say. “Just like you were ‘obsessed’ with mahjong and the TV show Moonlighting and bubble tea.”
Let me say it again: I. Am. Obsessed. This series has brought me more joy in the last month than anything other than holding my niece’s newborn baby. I am not exaggerating.
If I were in any way crafty, I would be cross-stitching quotes from this show on throw cushions. I have watched hours of online commentary, from cast interviews to analysis of how the show is shot. I have read dissertation-level essays on relationship power dynamics and why the show appeals to straight women (Sam Irby, as always, gets it exactly right in her newsletter). I can talk about set design, costumes and intimacy co-ordination.
Shane Hollander (Hudson Williams, left) and Ilya Rozanov (Connor Storrie) heat up the ice in Jacob Tierney’s hockey series Heated Rivalry. (Sabrina Lantos / Bell Media)
If you have somehow escaped the Heated Rivalry juggernaut, you might have heard it referred to as the “gay Canadian hockey show.” Created by Letterkenny’s Jacob Tierney, it follows two fledgling major-league hockey players, Shane Hollander (Hudson Williams) and Ilya Rozanov (Connor Storrie), who meet before their rookie season and start an intermittent but insanely passionate affair — a “situationship,” as the kids might say.
Their secret is doubly fraught: not only do they play in a notoriously homophobic environment where coming out is out of the question (the league they’re in is fictional, but we’re looking at you, NHL), they’re also the captains of longtime rival teams.
So far, so melodramatic — and so, so sexed-up. Any qualms that the erotic source material by Halifax author Rachel Reid would be watered down were laid (no pun intended) to rest immediately.
After the first two incredibly graphic — but, you know, classy — episodes (they make Red Shoe Diaries look like Murdoch Mysteries), this was me whenever I saw a hockey ad on TV:
But as the show progressed, it stopped being about smouldering looks and abs and hot sex (OK, OK, it never stops being a little bit about that) and started being about, well, love.
Not forbidden love, not dirty-little-secret love, but love that deserves to live in the light (and what the show does with light, literally, is breathtaking).
I am not alone in my ardent admiration; my co-worker said, “I think I understand real fandom now.” From Threads and podcasts to fan-created art and memes, the internet is ablaze with HR content.
Episode 5 recently became only the second show ever to score a perfect 10 audience rating on IMDb (the other is the Ozymandias episode of Breaking Bad).
The work from the two main actors, relative unknowns, is incredible. Not just the obvious, showy stuff — the Texas-born Storrie’s Russian is apparently impeccable — but the microexpressions and body language.
This is great screen acting, where the characters’ inner selves are written on their faces.
And the choices made by Tierney, on a minuscule budget, are impeccable, from structural changes to the plot (it’s based on two separate books) to carefully bookended scenes across the series’ six episodes (I told you, I’m obsessed!).
The needle-drop Wolf Parade song at a pivotal moment is goosebump-inducing, and has seen the Montreal band’s streams skyrocket.
Although there’s a strong and moving message here about representation, acceptance, living your truest life and the scourge of homophobia, this is never a show about capital-I issues.
It’s a romance, pure and simple, one that recognizes we want to yearn and swoon, but that doesn’t mean we also don’t want hot sex.
Give us our happy endings and our happily-ever-afters.
|
