Heartstopper, Series 1, Episode 1: “Meet”

“What sort of boy do you want to go out with? Someone who’s also a nerd or do you want an opposites-attract thing?”

I’ll get straight to the point. I absolutely adore Heartstopper. I don’t think I’ve fallen in love with a show as hard as I have Heartstoppper since Community. Community transfixed me immediately, and I discovered it when seasons 1-3 had already been released. I binged on all 71 episodes, got to the end of season 3, then immediately started with season 1 episode 1 all over again. And I’ve since watched those first three seasons over and over so many times I’ve lost count.

And now Heartstopper is transfixing me in a similar way. Upon my writing this, I’m re-watching its current eight episode run a fourth time through, and it was released just a little over two weeks ago. I’m obsessed. So obsessed that I felt compelled to write about this amazing show and why I like it so much.

I don’t want to draw too many parallels between Community and Heartstopper, as they are two very different shows, but they do share some important similarities. Both shows feature a core cast of outcasts trying to figure out their way in the world; both take place in a school, one at an American community college and the other at British grammar schools; and both feature a diverse cast. I’m often drawn to shows like this, with Freaks and Geeks another notable example and a progenitor of this type of television drama.

The outcasts of Heartstopper are 14- and 15-year-old kids who are all trying to figure themselves out, who don’t quite fit into what’s necessarily popular, and who all have the largest and most brilliant hearts of gold, who—through all the disagreements, misunderstandings, and arguments—are able to acknowledge their faults, change their habits, express their love, and just be so terribly, genuinely, and thoughtfully friendly to each other. Every episode ends and I’m left just feeling so hopeful that despite all the horror that happens in this messed-up world that maybe—just maybe—we might all be able to get along after all.

Each episode of Heartstopper is also so expertly crafted to the highest degree: it shows when it doesn’t need to tell, and when it does tell, it is through finely crafted dialogue that creates believable and consistent characters; it weighs each scene with its proper due before cutting to the next; it uses light and color with such sensitivity as to paint each character’s motivations before we even hear them speak. The opening scene, for example, sees our geeky, lanky, curly-haired hero, Charlie Spring (Joe Locke), walking through the halls of Truham Boys School, smile on his face as he reads an Instagram message on his phone from someone called Ben: “Can’t wait to see you x.” Charlie continues to make his way through the colorful hallways of the school as upbeat music by Baby Queen plays. We see someone take down Christmas decorations which is all we need to see to alert us that it must be January. But eventually Charlie finds himself in the dark, shadowy, deserted school library. “Ben?” he asks the room, only to discover that Ben sent him a second message requesting to meet up later. Charlie struggles to type in a response, “Okay,” with a smiley and heart emoji, his face suddenly drained of happiness.

It seems a simple series of images and events, but in the space of just over a minute into the first episode we learn with no dialogue that Charlie seems confident that he knows who he is and he has a colorful personality, but something already doesn’t seem quite right with Ben. Ben is shadowy and secretive where Charlie is bright and assured. It’s clear that Ben and Charlie are not on the same page, and we haven’t yet even seen the two of them speak words to each other let alone appear in the same room together.

Meanwhile in the next scene, when we get introduced to Nick (Kit Connor), the other hero of the series, we instead are told through words that he’s a year older than Charlie and that he’s the star rugby player on the school’s team. After Charlie hears this from his teacher to discover that that’s who he’s going to sit next to in form—after having just been rained upon by Ben—we can see the frustration grow on Charlie’s face. However, when the camera pans to the direction of Nick, students moving out of shot to show him sitting at his desk, the camera focusing, a sun beam lighting Nick up in a warm hue, prismatic rainbows appearing to emanate from his comforting face, we immediately feel reassured by Nick’s presence. Tastefully animated colorful leaves wisp across the screen (another signature visual technique of this series), suggesting Charlie’s imagination getting lifted away in the wind as he makes his way to Nick, a giant smile on his face erasing all memories of his frustrating morning, and both boys exchange nervous greetings of hi, the first of countless exchanges of such a simple word that will take on new and deeper meaning as the series progresses. But even though we were told one thing about Nick, the visuals tell us something else entirely. Nick isn’t the average macho star rugby player but someone else more gentle and warm. The scene is also enriched by the music of series composer, Adiescar Chase, whose soft, sometimes poppy, electronic soundtrack creates a soundscape that is cautiously hopeful yet is seasoned with subtle shades of melancholy and doubt.

It makes sense that a show like Heartstopper would be good at showing the story through vibrant images rather than telling through the limitations of words, as the television series is based on a series of graphic novels by Alice Oseman, she too also writing the TV series. At points throughout the episode, for example, the camera uses splitscreen to show various camera angles of the same scene or of two different locations entirely, each vantage separated by white bars, chopping the screen into the characteristic panels of a graphic novel. It’s a very simple technique to allow us to thoroughly process a lot of information in a short space of time, and a lovely homage to the source material itself. And while this is a clever visual technique that allows Heartstopper to show rather than tell, we will also still discover that the writing is just as masterful as the visuals themselves, limitations of words and all.

And while the words used to describe Nick might suggest he is not an outcast to compliment an entire cast of outcasts, the visuals suggest that there might be something deeper within Nick that has been buried and is as yet unseen. That said, when we meet Charlie’s friends it becomes especially apparent that—a least for now—most of the cast is properly an outcast. At lunchtime, we meet Tao (William Gao) and Isaac (Tobie Donovan). Where Isaac is often quiet with his nose in a book, Tao is outspoken and unafraid to express his opinions, something that will get him into trouble later on in the series. He describes the trio as a group of outcasts, telling Charlie that he’s crazy to think Nick would be different from any other rugby player since he’s the star of the team and is friends with a bunch of “loud, gross, year 11s.” Charlie seems undeterred, seeming to sense something different about Nick, just as we did when we first met him in form. This whole conversation is so expertly written and directed; in a few short exchanges and a few underplayed facial reactions, Tao pressing Charlie to, “Be careful!” with Nick, we learn that while this group might be outcasts, they love and care deeply for each other.

The remaining character to meet during this episode to fill out the core cast of heros—at least for now—is Elle (Yasmin Finney), who is a young, transgendered woman who recently transferred to the nearby Higgs Girls School to escape bullying. Tao clearly holds a fondness for her (“You’re allowed to miss her,” Charlie supportively remarks), as he’s been buying two bottles of apple juice all week, forgetting that he and Elle can no longer share lunch together. Since the first episode mainly revolves around Charlie and Nick, we sadly don’t get to see much more of Elle this episode, and we learn only that she has yet to make friends at her new school. But the series will eventually—with one notable exception—give each main character their due. And lastly, I am so grateful that we have a Black trans woman represented on the show who is herself played by a Black trans woman.

As the episode progresses, and as Elle’s introduction reinforces, we are reminded that we still live in a world where queers are ridiculed and feel the need to hide who they really are out of fear of becoming outcasts. When we eventually do see Charlie meet up with Ben (Sebastian Croft), it is hidden away in the music room. And while Ben and Charlie do get to share a kiss, when it is over, Ben straightens up, wipes his lips dry with the back of his hand, and requests that they still keep it all a secret.

And then later, as Charlie and Nick are walking to maths (a great scene that shows the incredible chemistry Joe Locke and Kit Connor already share as Charlie badgers Nick for being chaotic, doing his homework on the way to class, and Nick remarking that that makes him sound much cooler than he actually is), Charlie says hello to Ben as they were all passing each other in the corridor. Ben coldly tells Charlie, “Why are you talking to me? I don’t even know who you are.” And while Ben will apologize to Charlie in a later scene, it’s disingenuous, and Charlie knows it, as he later hides in the art room during lunch, offloads on Mr. Ajayi (Fisayo Akinade), his mentor who is also gay, and who says that he’ll need to talk to Ben, as difficult as that is since he knows how hard it is for Charlie to be honest (at least Charlie is confident he knows he has a hard time being honest). I also felt such loneliness for Charlie when he said he can’t even talk about these sorts of things to his friends, because they wouldn’t understand since they’re not gay. This loneliness is real in far too many of us queers, especially when we’re young, and that reality is meaningfully reflected in that seemingly innocuous comment as well as in Ben’s unwillingness to even associate openly with an out gay boy.

Queers also go to incredible lengths to hide themselves, as later Charlie catches Ben at the school gate kissing a girl. This ends up being the final straw for Charlie who later breaks up with him via some Instagram messages. I found myself cheering Charlie on during this scene while also empathizing a little bit with Ben who struggles to be out of the closet. This is an arc that will continue to play out throughout the rest of the next seven episodes as it addresses the pains we queers feel about the need to lie about ourselves.

Eventually, Charlie unexpectedly finds himself being invited to play on the rugby team after Nick saw how fast Charlie could run during P.E. class. Before Charlie even gets to prove himself to the rest of the boys on the team, he overhears them making disparaging comments about him, that he’s so small they think he’s in year 8, that he can’t play, that he doesn’t like sports, and that everyone knows he’s gay. In due time, however, as Charlie learns how to play rugby and gets better and better, the whole team does seem to warm to him (seem the operative word), but this is another arc that will continue to play out for the rest of the series, coming to a heart-wrenching climax in the penultimate episode.

The episode soon progresses to its conclusion. Following one of the rugby practices, Nick notices that Charlie seems distracted, and so secretly follows him to the music block where he’s meeting up with Ben, who wants to talk to Charlie about why he broke up with him. During an intensely real conversation, Charlie is able to express that it’s fine if Ben needs time to come out but that he still needs to treat him like a human when others are around. Ben grossly tries to force Charlie to kiss him in a legitimately rapey moment, but one of our heroes, Nick, springs out from the corner and forces Ben away from Charlie and tells Ben to piss off.

Nick takes a moment to make sure Charlie is okay, but Charlie only says he’s sorry. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” Nick says, “Sorry,” Charlie responds, to which Nick comments, “You say sorry a lot.” Nick stops Charlie from saying sorry a third time, but Charlie brightens a bit with a subtle smile and remarks, “I kinda wanna say it.” This “s-word,” as Nick will label it in episode seven, will become a recurring trope, reminding us of Nick and Charlie’s first, shared, vulnerable encounter together.

The two young men—two opposites commencing an unexpected journey together—eventually bid farewell at the school gate, and Charlie is beaming. Later, he struggles with what to text Nick, settling on “thank you x.” Nick reads it as his mother drives him home, and he begins beaming himself, animated seagulls taking flight across the screen, cleverly foreshadowing the concluding moments of the entire first series in episode eight.

These last few scenes culminated in such a touching moment. And it’s the first such touching moment of so many. And each episode this series will receive a moment like this that persistently champions a promise of a hopeful future where things will get better, providing a vision for the way things ought to be. And it’s probably the main reason I love this show so much: its themes and messages of indestructible hope, unwavering friendship, and enduring love defying the sarcastic shrieks of the seemingly insurmountable odds of gross bullies, ugly bigotry, appalling injustice, and fanatic evil.

And what a masterpiece this first episode is! The carefully crafted colors of each scene, the delicately chosen words of each moment, the beautiful use of vibrant animations, the carefully framed shots, the thoughtful editing of each succession of images timed to a glorious cadence and gentle choreography, all culminating in flawless television. This episode sets a high bar for others to follow, but each successive episode never disappoints and each one continues on with a determined confidence and a steadfast purpose to deliver some of the greatest television I’ve ever seen. This show just makes me feel so happy and so hopeful that I don’t have enough room in my heart to keep it all to myself. Please watch it and prepare yourself to be whisked away to a world filled with incredible human beings trying to make the best of it.

Final musings for episode 1:

1. After all that excessive praise, I do want to make note of a glaring elephant, and probably the only bit of notable irritation I have with this series. While we do have an amazing cast of diverse characters featuring a Chinese straight boy, a Black trans girl, a white straight boy, and—later on—a Black lesbian and her white girlfriend, the two leads are white, cis-gendered boys, one gay and one questioning. This is by no means a fatal flaw to the series, but it is something that is glaringly obvious and difficult to ignore. At the same time, this show is still remarkably diverse, and I am still so grateful that we have a trans character represented on the show. It’s a long overdue step in the right direction.
2. As I referenced throughout, the series creatively uses text messages to express dialogue, the kids frantically thumbing their phones as they type messages to each other that appear to the audience on our screen, complete with the character’s Instagram avatar. It also helps us to see the characters’ inner thoughts as they write one message, delete it, find a different way to express something, groan as they delete that, and then finally type a curated draft of their thoughts. For example, when Charlie breaks up with Ben via Instagram messages, he first types “Do you have a girlfriend?” then deletes and types, “I HATE YOU!!!” and then deletes and finally sends, “I don’t want to meet up anymore.” It’s an efficient way to show all the feelings and confusion Charlie was sensing in that moment.
3. Another trademark technique the show uses in addition to small animations of birds and leaves wisping across the screen, is to animate or colorize the whole screen when a character is fantasizing about or imagining something. For example, right before Nick asks Charlie to be on the rugby team, the entire screen turns shades of pink and rose petals float across the screen as Charlie imagines that Nick is about to tell him that he’s also gay and wants to be with him.
4. We also get to meet Charlie’s sister, Tori (Jenny Walser), the morning after Charlie calls things off with Ben. While she is a supporting character, she’s a memorable character who leaves a lasting impression. Her no-nonsense attitude is a delight. When she finds out that Charlie broke up with Ben, she remarks, deadpan, “Was he a knob?” And when Charlie agrees that he’s a knob, she adds, “Well done then.” The next morning we get to see them riding the bus to school together, as Tori asks if Charlie wants to date another nerd or someone totally opposite, foreshadowing things to come. Both scenes are early tastes of what eventually is revealed to be a very close brother/sister relationship, even if Tori’s austere personality in her introductory scenes suggests something else.
5. The headmaster of the boys school is never seen and only heard over the tannoy, but it’s unmistakably and immediately recognizably the famous voice of Stephen Fry.
6. We only get to see her for a bit this episode as she drives Nick home from school, but the lovely, lovely Olivia Colman plays Nick’s mom. And as usual she’s absolutely glorious, even with just her three lines in this episode. We’ll get to talk more about Colman’s character as the series continues.
7. And lastly, how cute is it that Tao—not Charlie—describes Nick as a golden retriever?