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The Magicians Season 4 Premiere Review: The SyFy series returns in top form

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Great series that dabble in the fantasy genre are few and far in-between and when they manage to succeed (such as HBO juggernaut Game of Thrones) they tend to need to straddle the line between the fantastical (dragons!) and deep realism (sexism!swearing!political discord!). When a series manages to soar within those guidelines to be unabashedly soaked in science fiction or magical realism that don’t so much wave off naysayers with a “we’re not like those other shows” shrug but more a flirtatious wink to the audience it’s because they’ve embraced the innate silliness that comes along with a story. What’s more, they take that absurdity and bridge with it allegorical modernity – giving it a time stamp for the why’s and when’s that made it such a cultural touchstone for viewers.

The Magicians, based on the novels by Lev Grossman which premiered it’s fourth season last night is still amounting that audience due to a loyal word of mouth but it’s managed to accrue that viewership because of it’s fantastical roots. It doesn’t shy away from the gutsier storytelling elements that defy logic, nor does it undersell the trauma and mental illnesses that trail many of these characters. It also has a character named “The Great Cock,” a jailed Santa Clause, rabbits that hop between worlds like embittered carrier pigeons and sing-a-longs to Les Miserables and David Bowie. Their narrative steps are confidently boundless, shaking the status quo with every new season in a way that is fresh and focused on creating a engaging journey that allows us to both be swept away while simultaneously identifying aspects of their lives that reflect our own : Julia’s self-discovery, Margo’s reliant but reluctant step in taking on more responsibility and Quentin’s battle with self-worth all resonate because they’re issues most twenty somethings grapple with while still trying to make memories for a lifetime.

Season three was the best version of the show to date with episodes that created alternate lifetimes and storytelling structures that broke the typical mode and ended on not just one, but two egregious cliff hangers. The first was Dean Fogg’s partnership with the library to stop Quentin and co. from returning magic to their world, wiping their memories in the process after they’d spend the majority of the season risking life and limb to do so – Julia even sacrificing her status as Goddess to do so. While the pushing them apart diversion was enough to leave us anticipating the shows return, desperate to see how this ragtag group of friends would somehow make it back together, they once more shocked us with a devastating stinger as we realized Eliot in full never made it out of the castle, possessed by the monster he’d tried to kill to save Quentin’s life. They teased us with hope as he walked up to Quentin before very abruptly tearing it away.

The show has never been shy about upending expectations.

As one of the shows indisputable favorites who has two of the best dynamics in the series with Margo and Quentin, it’s not at a point yet where we should be totally fearful for Eliot’s safety and there’s so many ways to ensure drama without killing characters off but it’s difficult not to worry some that we won’t be seeing Eliot again for a very long time, if at all.

The premiere of season four picks up where we left off as all the characters are living life in their new persona’s aside from Alice who’s imprisoned by the library. It’s a fun way for the show to deviate and allow the performers to embody characters foreign from their own but it isn’t long before they’re already beginning to come together, filling in the gaps left in their memory. The problems aren’t resolved – far from it – and Quentin is still stuck with the Eliot impersonator but it’s moving at a clip that fits the shows format of never resting too long on one note. It’s energized and exciting and characters such as Kady get to take on more dominant roles while Margo’s ties to Filory are greater strengthened, even if she isn’t able to believe what she’s seeing.

The Magicians has managed to take the mind-wipe trope and invigorate it with a refreshing spin with a playfulness that is the backbone of the series. What’s hilarious is that they’re all (pointedly as you learn) playing archetypes as their alter-egos, versions of characters such as the bad ass cop and no nonsense business woman we might see in any other, lesser, series and what makes them so endlessly entertaining is our knowledge of how non-conforming these characters and their countless quirks are.

We’re only an episode on and already season four is delivering on it’s name’s promise to bring us something delectably magical. Our characters are in peril and the show always seems on the precipice of taking one too many accelerated steps as it eagerly tries to outpace itself, but where’s the adventure without the risk?


The Magicians 4×4 Review: “Marry…Kill” allows the characters a moment to grieve

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Following last weeks episode where watched as Margo allowed the monster to kill a God for the sake of possibly saving her friend and Quentin learned that his father had passed away when he’d had his memory wiped, “Marry…Kill” isn’t so much a reprieve from the sadder tone the show had struck as it is a stepping stone for where the series will be going next

It’s refreshing to see the characters granted a moment to take a knee and process the repressed grief they’ve been burying and the fear they’ve been running from as it chases to catch up. Margo and Quentin take center stage as they’re deal with the fallout of watching Eliot be totally possessed by a horrendous monster. Summer Bishil in particular impresses as she gets to play both her dry comedic support while also carrying the weight of one of the most devastating moments of the episode.

For a show that runs at lightning fast speed through storylines it always knows when we need a second to breathe. From season’s twos “Skip Day” to last years “A Day in a Life” when The Magicians chooses to slow down it does so with a grace that demonstrates a series that has an innate understanding of the emotional foundation is works on. We couldn’t just charge through material that required a moment of contemplation so we took two routes to grieving: we watched as Quentin directly worked with it in a manner he thought was appropriate while Margo chose avoidance and deflection. Both in the end are, as to be expected, derailed. In Margo’s case she’s got a grievous situation to deal with as Josh is about to undergo the turning where he’ll have to kill or have sex with someone in order to stave off his more uncontrollable urges, much to his chagrin as he has no desire to do either.

Josh has gone from being a mere blip on the radar to an integral portion of the cast because despite the fact that he at this point is the least human (Julia aside) he possesses the most humanity. He is the audience insert but rarely shows cowardice when it’s important, standing up to those around him who try and belittle or dismiss his concerns. Pairing him with Margo is a genius choice as it forces him to raise his hackles and her to offer moments of vulnerability. The latter’s motivations to help him without second thought and to do so with little thought of her own safety all makes more sense when we realize she believes Eliot to be dead. So when she seemingly has a death wish and locks herself in a cage with Josh, only after to tell him the two can have sex because while she can’t take away his disease, she can at least consent, the moment is punctuated by a sense of desperation. Yes, the moment between the two after is sweet and her comment about not living long enough for the time the turning would make her find a sacrificial lamb darkly humorous considering the lives of this group, but there’s an underlying thread of despair that cuts straight through the laughter and afterglow and straight to her pained eyes as she comes to the Eliot realization.

Similarly, Quentin must come to this understanding as he cleans out his fathers old storage of model airplanes that he’s never going to live up to the standards those in his past life held for him. In a sweetly marcbe moment, the monster even gives Quentin a moment of catharsis as he mossies in, munching on frozen peas, and asks him why he’s following the rules of his mother, who expects him to fail at every turn. So, with the Eliot Monster’s help, he tears into the room, throwing model airplanes against the wall and smashing them to pieces as he tries and break free of the grief that has him in a vice grip. As he tells the monster, he’s not over his sadness, but over time it will lessen. To which, he’s given the bombshell that Eliot is dead, that the monster felt his soul go out like a flame but that he didn’t suffer. He figures the sooner Quentin knows the sooner he’ll be able to be happy and help him on his continued quest to kill gods. It’s a staggering moment for both the audience and Quentin but it only keeps the breath locked in your chest for a moment before flinging us into the where Eliot is trapped inside the monster alone but very much alive.

Elsewhere in the story there’s a side story where Julia and 23 Penny venture to Fillory to learn more about her powers. More than anything it’s a chance to show off Stella Maeve and Arjun Gupta’s excellent chemistry as he must reconcile his feelings for 23 Julia and the would be goddess standing in front of him. It’s sweet and tender and, like the moments aforementioned, allow the characters time to both discover more about themselves while moving along the plot at a steadier pace.

It’s a solid episode of the series that hints more at what’s to come than packs itself to the brim, something that’s necessary for the show every once in a while. Underneath all the battles and plotting there are still damaged individuals in dire need of healing and little time do so, something that “Marry…Kill” goes out of its way to express. 2

The Magicians 4×5 Review: “Escape From the Happy Place” allows us momentarily to come out of the dark

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How much more can you ask for in a television series than the ability to elicit such high strung reactions of joy with the simple words “peaches and plums motherfucker?” Since its inception The Magicians has dared to go bolder than any of its predecessors, but only once they shook off the familiar trappings of over familiar genre setups; season one was mere table dressing compared to the places it’s since gone with such gleeful abandonment you can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t planned all along. Disguised as a show about a straight, white twenty-something selected as the chosen one before upending everything, the lead became canonically bisexual (or pan – though it’s never truly noted) and the fiercest combatants on the series are women, and primarily women of color at that. It’s not a bar clearing that should feel as monumental as it does and on its own is revelatory enough to warrant a watch, but it’s what is done with the characters who burn down tropes at every corner that make it so uniquely peculiar and expectation shattering. To be a fan of The Magicians is to work in hyperbole simply because nothing else quite does it justice. In the fifth episode of season four, quite like it did in last season’s tremendous fifth episode, Sera Gamble and the rest of the showrunners have once again created something that truly lives up to the hype, doled out with equal measures trepidation and whimsy, filled with as much grief as there is hope. Further breaking down barriers of where we’ve expected it to swerve next, and it’s possibly the most romantic thing the show has done to date.

“Q – I’m sorry. I was afraid and when I’m afraid I run away.”

There’s plenty more that happens in this episode, all of it equally fascinating in terms of what we continue to learn about the characters we’ve come to so deeply care about. Margo, after being given such standout moments last week, takes something of a backseat here yet her resolute nature is on display throughout as she channels her natural ferocity into getting Fillory back into working order. This consists of placing her emotions on the backburner, telling Fen that she can’t allow herself to feel because if she does she might never stop and that’s no way to get started on accomplishing anything.

Penny and Julia (who shared electric chemistry in their moments in the last episode) aren’t given nearly enough to do, though we do see Penny kidnapped (or at least knocked out by a strange assailant) and Julia learning the hard way (again) about the unbeknownst collateral consequences of being a Goddess. People who follow her will die – and do so needlessly. As she’s told rather bluntly, she’s got the worst bits of human and gods in her right now, rendering her powerless and immortal and forcing her learning how to balance immense knowledge and passion without any actual power to save lives. Julia has always been the true golden-hearted heroine of this story, good even after seeing the worst the world has to offer, selfless even after being brutally hurt. She’s always going to face challenges, making for such an enthralling hero through her simple perseverance of heart and intellect and not due to any gift she was bestowed or born with.

On the other end of that spectrum, Alice has always been the show’s most naturally gifted character, though she’s rarely the most enjoyable one to spend time with. This hasn’t dramatically changed, but seeing her in control of her own narrative and actively searching for a sense of redemption is a smart way to take a character who too often has been separated from the main drama. We care so much for Quentin, Margo, Eliot, Penny and Julia (even Josh to a degree) not just because of their own defining personalities and quirks, but because of the relationships they share. Julia and Quentin’s friendship, Margo and Eliot’s soulmate attraction, even Penny’s sardonic foil to the rest all make for dynamics that are rich in thematic weight and unfortunately, Alice has only ever shared that level of narrative substance with Quentin, who works much better with the others.

Photo by: Eike Schroter/SYFY

“If I ever get out of here Q – know that when I’m braver it’s because I learned it from you.”

From the start Eliot has been one of the shows most well-rounded characters, in large part due to Hale Appleman’s lethargic, elfish charm that makes him a perfect fit for this world. Quentin was on shakier ground when he was first introduced but from season two on there was a clever subversion through committed work by Jason Ralph and the writers that made sure we saw through all of the cracks in Q’s persona in a manner that flirted with steely vulnerability rather than any of the nice guy fragility that made him previously so hard to like. Together, as we saw with last year’s “A Day in the Life” and with this weeks “Escape From the Happy Place” these two are a duo that do their best work together, and they might be the most romantically suitable pairing on the show to date.

It’s a thrill to realize this hasn’t all been wishful thinking. After spending a lifetime together and having slept together at least twice, in this episode we realize that Eliot’s most shameful moment in a lifetime full of embarrassments, regrets and trauma is the moment where he brushed aside Quentin’s very sincere suggestion that they try and make an honest attempt at a relationship. Blocking this moment out and in attempting to reach his friends through a door in a memory scarred with the severity of ill-conceived abandonment –  all excellently juxtaposed with the “happy place” where he’s safe from the beasts locked with him inside the monster – Eliot is for the first time able to look at himself truthfully. Not liking what he sees, he promises Quentin that if he manages to get out and if they can save him, then he’ll be better, braver and maybe, just maybe, give him a different answer than before.

“50 years! Who gets proof of concept like that. Peaches and plums motherfucker. I’m alive in here.”

Eliot breaks through, if only for a moment, but the shift is remarkably dramatic as Quentin goes from being ready to say goodbye to one of his best friends forever to brashly ruining their plans by saving him. Eliot gets through because of a memory only the two of them have, one of concrete evidence that they work together. Alice and Julia might’ve been the ones seemingly poised as Quentin’s main love interests from the start, but maybe he’s been meant to get the boy all along.

Perhaps this isn’t how the show will go down, though if that’s the case it will quite the shame because so few (if any) shows are as self-assured in their storytelling and audience to take what is considered such a turn from most typical, heteronormative storytelling beats.

What matters now, however, is the idea of two lost souls barrelling at one another when all seems lost. Eliot was the first person Quentin met at Brakebills and it’s Quentin who jettisons Eliot into the brief moment of agency over his body to let his friends know that he’s alive. Maybe they aren’t the main couple of the series, if there’s even meant to be one, but their stories keep finding ways to weave themselves into a tangled knot that is getting tighter the longer the tales get, the to-be continued that keeps anchoring the strongest and most climatic moments of the show. There’s a draw to these two characters who battled with deep loneliness and senses of purpose, who have been written as being depressed and hopeless but have laid it all on the line in the past to protect their loved ones who have started to fill in their missing pieces.

If anything, “Escape From the Happy Place” celebrates these lost and buried traumas because they remind us of not just who we are, but what we can manage to overcome. There have been so many monsters on the show who turned down that path because of past horrors suffered through, further inflicting pain on others because it’s all they know and remember. What makes the characters of The Magicians so special and so deeply flawed is that they too have endured and suffered, but have managed to redefine their pain into a purpose greater than the sum of its parts. In Eliot’s case, after what he’s gone through and after seeing what there is to live for, it finally makes the fight against the monster trapping him in his own body no longer hopeless.

The Magicians Season 4 Finale Review: Saying goodbye is the hardest part

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So many spoilers ahead!

Season four of The Magicians was always going to struggle in its ability to live up to its predecessor, one of the best seasons of television in recent memory. For the most part it found success with episode to episode moments of greatness that couldn’t conceal a messier over-arching plot that revealed itself fully in the last few episodes. And now, following the decision to kill Quentin off the show, the showrunners are going to need to deal with clunky plotting that resulted in memorable sequences but narratives which were often frustratingly inconsequential.

Julia goes the entire season grappling with what it means to be part human and part God only to have the decision to choose one or the other taken from her while she’s unconscious, relegated to a romantic subplot that didn’t offer a similar impact. Julia has always been disserviced by the show, despite arguably being the most interesting part of since in season one, a potential that was all but forgotten. Similarly, Eliot being possessed by a monster lead to a staggeringly tremendous episode that again, only led to annoyance with the promise of declarative love wasn’t ever to be acted on as real Eliot and Quentin never were given a moment to share together by the time Quentin had made his sacrifice. It’s made all the more damning when we realize how secondary the monster was when, once again, it’s the Library acting as the big bad at the season’s conclusion. Even Alice and Q’s romance was shoehorned in at the end despite the show taking great strides in finally making her a viable and interesting character outside of that dynamic.

It was a frustrating season, but one that sparkled with momentary beauty of character insight, most often when it came to Margo. Even the finale has moments of greatness and in particular it last 20 minutes, which were stunningly shot and created a greater sense of universality as we see Hedge Witches all over the globe working in tandem to stop the monsters (both literal and potential) and gain back magic. Unfortunately, any strengths of the season will always be injected with a sense of bitter sweetness of “what if’s” regarding a character who’s grown from being the least interesting on the show to the one who contained the series heart.

The Magicians has always worn the identity of a mid-to-late twenty something grappling with themselves with depth and complexity. The characters possess such power at their fingertips and the hope of endless possibilities (like so many blissed out early 20 somethings naively feel) but are completely lost in what to do with it. Over the seasons they’ve gone through real life events such as addiction and assault, new career paths and sexual identities, relationships that come and go just to return again and triumphs that quickly turn to more challenges. All of this has been filtered through the magical lens and, ultimately, we were always destined to arrive at a point where death was their latest hurdle.

Photo by: SYFY

The pain and frustration that comes with losing a believed character often is twofold: it’s both about the loss and how it’s handled and, at the very least, Q’s death was handled relatively well. There’s a real sense of mourning that comes along with Quentin’s split second decision, one that even in the underworld we give witness to as he grieves having only one last chance to look at the friends and loved ones he’s about to leave behind. It’s palpable as Q weeps at the notion that this was an irreversible act and that the next step forward is an unknowable one, even if Penny’s is a comforting, familiar face to give him his final rights before stepping further into potential oblivion.

On one hand it was a remarkably evocative goodbye, one where we see how one life can both touch and change so many for the better. Quentin didn’t just enter Eliot, Alice and Julia’s life to be a friend forgotten with time but a crucial individual who would help shape their worlds and make them stronger by association. His, like so many others, was a life of staggeringly rich connections and it’s a vacancy in both the character’s and show’s world that won’t go unnoticed, even as they venture forward into new adventures in season five. Quentin was more than a deck of cards, a forgotten crown, an acceptance letter or bitten peach. He was a source of love, compassion and determination that made those totems so crucially representative of the man he became over the shows run, transforming from a timid would-be leading man to a hero accepting his fate as someone destined to mend small objects. The smallest cracks can cause great foundations to crumble, so where there was room to perceive his focus as uninspired or weak, perhaps instead we were always meant to see him as the glue.

Despite all this some of that beautiful, metamorphic tragedy is lost when it’s further contextualized and we remember all of the character beats that lead us to this point, specifically his mental health. As recently as the penultimate episode, Quentin spoke of his depression and how the magical land Filory (which in his adulthood would turn out to be more real and bleak than he could ever imagine) helped keep him alive, lifting his spirits when nothing else could keep the monsters from under the bed or the dark clouds at bay. How many of us have looked to works of transfixing fantasy as a means to spread an escapist balm on mental wounds that have festered overtime? We immerse ourselves in fiction to transport ourselves elsewhere and it was just one small part of Q that was easy to relate to, that made him impossibly human in a world overflowing with magic.

Photo by: SYFY

Characters die. And, in the case of Quentin, he got as fitting and superbly performed send off as any character could these days when deaths are intended more to shock than move. The mourning for fans of the show is a collective one because so many of us saw ourselves in Quentin’s ordinary nature striving to guard his heart while simultaneously risking it all to be better – larger than even the heroes of his childhood fables. His pain was rooted in a reality so many of us understand and it meant that his triumphs and losses felt greater than they were. There was a clear delicacy in how the showrunners orchestrated his departure, even allowing his death scene itself some form of transcendent beauty as he seemingly transforms into sparkling matter, rather than simply perishing before us. Regardless, the initial response is one where it feels like after the season he had it was a misstep.

Quentin confesses to Penny that he’s worried that his act in the mirror world wasn’t one of quick thinking courage to save his friends, but a moment where he could commit suicide and none would be the wiser. Penny’s answer to this is to show him how his life touched that of his friends as they tearfully sing “Take On Me” and asks him if he really thinks it could have been a choice to leave all of that behind?

While it’s perfectly acceptable to have a character dealing with depression and suicidal thoughts die by acts that aren’t based on their mental illness, it seems a greater shame to dismiss a character (recently affirmed to have non-heteronormative leanings at that) and his entire arc with such questionable logic. The character has grown leaps and bounds since the start and has been largely aided by a steely but vulnerable performance by Jason Ralph, but even though his demise came at the time of a self-reflecting realization it also came after a season where he was detached, angry and defiant in the face of real danger. A greater and more fulfilling ending would have been to allow Quentin reprieve – of unburdened happiness. Instead, we were left to flounder as relationships were either left in open ended status such as his and Alice’s, or never allowed the time to flourish like they’d been promised such as his and Eliot’s (a particular cheat fans are feeling burned by.)

There was such an intuitive beauty in Quentin’s ability to see light even in his darkest days, a cog in a bigger picture whose want for a just world and capacity for love was able to transform those around him. A mender of small things, Q’s reach was far and wide, encompassing those he touched like a smattering of golden flakes – undoubtedly fragile but magically transformative as it catches the light.

The Magicians: Quentin’s Journey is About Bravery, Not Heroism

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Heroism has always been at the heart of The Magicians. But that’s only because heroism plays a role in our regular lives and exists in many different forms. There are many types of heroes out there and The Magicians was always good at subverting what that term actually means for regular people.

Quentin Coldwater spends much of season one believing he’s the Chosen One. A common literary trope, the “chosen one” is at the heart of all heroic journeys: a seemingly normal person learns they’re something special and/or they have a big role to play in some larger world-ending threat. In fantasy, this is more explicit, but the “chosen one” narrative can take shape in any form. Typically, this person refuses the call initially and then through some obstacles (usually involving the loss of loved ones) finds their way to fulfilling their destiny. What’s so profound about someone like Quentin – who, yes, does exist in a fantasy world and occupies the role of the “chosen one” – is that he ultimately learns he isn’t living the narrative of the heroes he’s read about in other stories. He is not, in fact, the chosen one.

Season one culminates in this realization. To Alice, Quentin sums up the first season in a short bit of dialogue:

“My entire life, ever since I first read Fillory and Further, I’ve been waiting for some powerful being to come down and say ‘Quentin Coldwater, you are The One.’ Every book, every movie, it’s about one special guy. Chosen. In real life, for every one guy, there are a billion people who aren’t. Almost none of us are The One.”

Quentin’s statement is further exemplified when it’s Alice who takes on The Beast. Quentin’s moment of heroism then comes from him letting go of this fantasy he built up in his head that to sacrifice himself meant his life was worth something. Or, more simply put, that “destiny is bullshit,” as he says to Eliot during their crowning ceremony in the season two premiere.

If we’re talking about subverting the typical white male heroic journey, The Magicians accomplished that way back in season one when their white male protagonist realized that maybe this story isn’t really his, at least when it comes to the big characters-stepping-into-their-heroic-roles moment. A female is the more powerful magician and takes on the Big Bad of the season and an out queer character becomes the prophesied High King of Fillory (almost in the same way the Pevensie children become the Kings and Queens of Narnia). There’s even a trial here, one that Quentin was sure he was going to pass.

“A Life In A Day” | SYFY

Looking at this early arc for Quentin on the heels of the season four finale, “No Better to be Safe Than Sorry,” in which Quentin does take on the more typical hero death, the missteps from this season are even more apparent. Suddenly, the heroic death becomes the pivotal moment for another subversion, according to showrunners Sera Gamble and John McNamara. Namely, that the character who was supposed to be safe, isn’t. In doing so, The Magicians goes back on their original idea that the white male protagonist isn’t the hero.

Pop culturally, we’re living in a time when sacrificial deaths no longer are the epitome of a character’s potential. In season seven of Game of Thrones, Daenerys Targaryen speaks of heroes as people “who do stupid things and then die.” It’s important to note that in this conversation with Tyrion Lannister, Daenerys distinguishes bravery from heroism. While Game of Thrones is populated with mythic stories and legends of brave knights and Azor Ahai, those identities are so clouded in mystery they become a mere afterthought, at least to the characters who, from a bird’s eye view, occupy those roles. Not to mention, Jon Snow, heroic in his morality, dies at the end of season five by the hands of his brothers and is resurrected in the early episodes of season six. (Interesting to note that in the interviews following his character’s death, Kit Harrington also said he wasn’t coming back to the show.)

Star Wars: The Last Jedi also questions the traditional idea of heroism. Poe believes he’s not doing all he can if he’s not going in guns blazing, something he argues is the only way to take on their enemies. General Leia has a different approach, however, a more calculated plan of action. The more smart one, too. The idea that heroism has to be sexy or that being a martyr is the only way to prove you’ve done everything you can is long past.

Killing off your white male protagonist isn’t revolutionary. Not only because it’s been done before, but also because by calling this a subversion of the white male hero, it ignores all the other facets that make up Quentin Coldwater: his queerness, his depression, and his history with dealing with his mental illness. There’s also his capacity for love, not just for his friends but also for the stories he grew up reading. If The Magicians takes its roots from The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter, then Quentin is the embodiment of the generation who grew up reading those stories and wishing they could walk right into a field of natural light and be asked to take an exam for a magical university.

In season one, the chosen one myth is taken down a peg. So maybe it’s more about bravery than heroism. Afterall, what makes us brave are the people who go on these journeys with us and how we choose to tackle the challenges we’re faced with. There’s no need for martyrdom. In the season three finale, “Will You Play With Me?”, Quentin attempts to take on the sacrifice by being the one to stay in Blackspire for an eternity as babysitter to a powerful god. Eliot and Alice both attempt to stop him, but it’s Eliot’s words that are the most important: “I didn’t actually agree on anything. But I did decide that one of my best friends wouldn’t spend the rest of his life locked in a prison guarding what turns out to be not a really scary monster.” Again, The Magicians says this destiny thing is kind of bullshit.

“No Better Than to Be Safe Than Sorry” | SYFY

So what happened in season four? Quentin’s journey comes full circle. In a time when he wasn’t vying to be the Chosen One, he sacrifices himself. He asks Penny40 whether he died saving his friends or did he just find a way to kill himself. The show seems to say that because his friends will forever be changed for knowing him, of course his depression didn’t play into his final act. By saying this, it forgets everything that happened to Quentin during the rest of season four. The death of his father, his drive to save Eliot, his disillusionment with Fillory, his incredibly terrifying moments of self destruction. They all play into “No Better to Be Safe Than Sorry,” but why is this the send off for a character that represented so much of its audience?

He’s not okay and he hasn’t been okay for a whole season. And not being okay is okay. But in the stories we watch, it’s better to see someone fight to have the strength to be okay. Ending his story while he’s still disillusioned with everything he once believed doesn’t feel revolutionary because, well, it’s a major bummer. When thinking of the The Magicians as a metaphor for adult life, especially adults in their twenties, when life can feel like a roller coaster of highs and lows, when the disillusionment of childhood informs the first moments of adulthood, Quentin’s end feels even more like a blow. In season four’s 12th episode, “The Secret Sea,” Quentin asks the Drowned Garden, “Shouldn’t loving the idea of Fillory be enough?” For accessing the secret sea, it seemed to be. So, why isn’t it enough to save his life in the end?

How incredibly more moving Quentin’s journey would have been if it had culminated in hearing Eliot’s words in real life: “When I get out of here, know that when I’m brave it’s because of you.” It doesn’t take a hero to be brave, but it does take bravery to change people’s lives, not through sacrifice, but through the seemingly small actions taken in their everyday lives. Perhaps it’s in taking a risk with a relationship or rekindling one. Or maybe it’s in admitting you’re not okay. How wonderful it would have been if it was words that had saved the day, rather than a noble sacrifice?

The Magicians Season Three Finale Review: Melancholy and character study dominate one of the years best

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Television is so rarely everything you want it to be. Sure, there are great series and ones that on a technical level stand leagues about this little SyFy show that could, but few have the ability to target the heart of television fans so acutely and with the effervescent wisdom of knowing exactly which aspects of storytelling are universal. Dressed in the trappings of magic, mystical beings and mayhem, The Magicians is a show which is much more about the friendships made in young adulthood, demons faced in an uncertain and increasingly unsteady world and the volatile emotional arena that is the inexplicable unknown. Sure, there may be cursing rabbits, loving relationships between humans and sloths, a sentient boat and worlds inside worlds of alternate universes, but all of these otherworldly aspects and details are cut straight through by the power of unbridled compassion, companionship and loss.

Being an adult is hard and The Magicians understands this and exploits it and both we and the show are the beneficiaries of its acute wisdom. The series had some growing pains until the deep bench of richly drawn characters began to share screen time in perfect balance and the leading hero, Quentin, was established firmly as a player who understood he was far from the series’ main protagonist.  By the time the end of season one rolled over into season two, the series truly began to understand what makes it stand out in a very crowded field.

It’s a vividly told story, one that continually outpaces itself in major occurrences and shakeups, lapping one plot point with the next twist until the story is so rapidly developed that it’s difficult to keep everything in place. That confidence in the audience to keep the hell up and its reliance on the fabulous actors portraying the characters means that The Magicians is able to take risks where other shows would be too timid.

Season three dedicated an entire episode to short vignettes that followed a number of peripheral characters, had a musical episode that culminated in a soaring and unifying sing-along to Queen’s “Under Pressure”, followed by an episode where two of the leading characters lived out a life in a small plot of land, fell in love, raised a family and passed away peacefully just to be ripped back into their proper timeline. It was daring and hauntingly melancholic in some moments and undeniably absurd, poignant and hilarious in others, combining genres and tones that rather than causing an unpleasant dissonance instead resonated in perfect harmony.

Beyond the structure and risk taking there are the characters who so assuredly ground the series wilder moments. The version of Quentin, Julia and co. are unfathomably different than the versions we first met, to the point where the season three cliff-hanger is all the more crushing when the worry about how they’ll find their way back to themselves sets in. Julia, following all of her continued trauma, finds power in healing, offered the position of a god before sacrificing it all to save her friends. Margo and Eliot, the two vain and detached sidekicks of season one, became High King’s (yes, both of them) and care deeply about Filory and their friends – with Eliot risking everything to save Quentin from his self-sacrifice at the end of season three (to possibly devastating results). And Quentin has grown on the micro scale, coming to a place of self-acceptance where he knows what he can do and when to do it, with a moral compass that will push himself through his fears and concerns of the impossible unknown of the future.

Season three ends on a fantastic and frustrating cliffhanger, as we watch the versions of these characters, with their minds wiped, going through life unaffected by magic and torn apart. The kicker comes in the form of Eliot, who has been inhabited by the beast, coming to Quentin to help him enact revenge on those who have done him wrong. It’s unsettling – not only because we’re given a moment of optimism when we believe that, against all odds, Eliot has found Quentin through the fog – but also because it’s such a deconstruction of characters we’ve come to love that there’s a sense of no return that accompanies it.

And while I’d like to think the real Eliot is still possible to save, I’m proactively arming myself for anything but.

The heart of this series is this group of unsuspecting people who found one another when the world turned dark and dire on them. It’s the makeshift bonds of those dealt tough hands in life who recognize the masked pain and tight smiles and the joy that comes when there’s a shared triumph. There’s little doubt this group will find one another again – without that core there is no show – but it will be a journey greatly touched by tension and want as we will them to reunite, save Eliot and continue their paths to better adjusted adults who can both save the day from a monster who presents a threat when bored and unloved.

Maybe I’m  at a point in my life where shows like this mean something more. Where a friend is willing to fire a bullet straight into a monsters heart rather than lose you, or where a young woman who’s endure such trauma is still willing to sacrifice literal parts of herself in order to honor the bravery of her friends – maybe those are moments that touch me so deeply as a twenty something floundering.

Maybe, more than anything, there’s something about Quentin ready to give his life to save magic and his friends not because he wants to, but because through his struggling he’s learned that he can handle it. That at the end of trauma there’s an inner strength that might just compel you save the world after accomplishing saving yourself. It’s that slimmer of hope that against all odds you persevere and you life another day no matter the mounting odds against you, no matter how big or small but in spite of that. The Magicians, in season three and beyond, is a belligerent and defiant rallying of damage and heartache and want, viscerally emotive in its naked, open armed appeal to those in need of relatable escape.

The Magicians: Quentin Coldwater’s a Hero Just Like Us

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“My entire life, ever since I first read Fillory and Further, I’ve been waiting for some powerful being to come down and say ‘Quentin Coldwater, you are The One.’ Every book, every movie, it’s about one special guy. Chosen. In real life, for every one guy, there are a billion people who aren’t. Almost none of us are The One.”

I am Quentin Coldwater. If you waited for your Hogwarts letter on your eleventh birthday or secretly wished your closet led to a magical world, you’re probably Quentin Coldwater too. If you’re familiar with Lev Grossman’s The Magicians book series or Syfy’s show of the same name, you might be slightly offended at being compared to Quentin. You shouldn’t be, though, because Quentin, sometimes called Q, is the representation of a generation that grew up with Harry Potter. He’s all of us, because he chose to see himself as the hero.

Season one of The Magicians follows Quentin’s discovery of magic. Unlike Harry Potter, whose discovery of magic came at eleven years old, and therefore reveals itself as pure wonderment, Quentin learns of magic as a grad student. There’s still wonderment and awe, but it’s quickly undermined by reality. Q may be attending a magical school, but it’s still school. The disillusionment of magic throughout The Magicians works as a metaphor for the real world. As we become adults, the magic of childhood drifts away from our conscious, or rather, the stress and anxiety of adulthood takes over. This whole idea is so front and center in Grossman’s book that I could barely make it past 50 pages. But the Syfy series lets magic and the realities of adulthood knock against each other, sometimes allowing one to overpower the other, not unlike how we often experience high and low moments in our own lives.

When we first meet Quentin, he’s finishing a stay in a psychiatric hospital. His depression is only occasionally referred to throughout the series, but it’s a clever introduction to a character whose motivations are always tied to his favorite fantasy series, “Fillory and Further,” The Magicians version of The Chronicles of Narnia, with a bit of Harry Potter thrown in. Once he’s accepted into Brakebills, a Hogwarts stand-in (though it looks more like a Division 1 university campus), Q is convinced he’s on his path to destiny. He knows he’s the hero of this story, even before there’s really a story. When his best friend, Julia, doesn’t get accepted into Brakebills, his reaction is to basically tell her she’s not good enough to be a part of the magical world he’s suddenly found himself in. And as soon as the school comes under attack by The Beast, he’s even more convinced he’s the one that can stop him. The Chosen One, so to speak.

It’s not totally his fault. Throughout all of season one, people keep telling him he’s the one that needs to go up against The Beast. Jane Chatwin, the central character of “Fillory and Further” tells him that, Dean Fogg mentions it a time or two, and even his friends begrudgingly admit it. It’s mentioned often enough that Q begins to believe it himself. And it makes sense Q is that person. As Margo puts it:

“There’s this thing about you, Q. You actually believe in magic.”

“So does everyone.”

“No. We all know it’s real, but you believe in it. And you just love it, pure and simple.”

The reason Q is so identifiable is that he hasn’t let go of his belief in magic, or in stories. Q is us if we suddenly stepped in to our favorite fantasy story. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be the hero. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the magic in our lives. But what makes someone stand apart from those brash and daring heroes of legends is when to know this isn’t just your story, and maybe it’s someone else’s turn for glory.

Q’s moment of heroism isn’t when he stands up to The Beast. He’d already done that several times before, in timelines that were being reset because Q was never successful. So he changes it. To Alice, he explains it’s the adult part of him that’s telling him Alice is The One, because she’s the stronger magician. Quentin was never the Chosen One. Rather, his part in the 39 time loops of season one was to die. His part in the last timeline, however, was to grow up. His maturity throughout season one ends with the restoration of his friendship with Julia. Before, when it was made clear to Q Julia didn’t belong at Brakebills, he figured he was meant to be apart of this magical world, while Julia wasn’t. To him, it was destiny. Of course, Julia was supposed to be at Brakebills all along, and in the 39 other timelines, she was. As Q unfolds the mystery of The Beast, he comes to terms with the parts other people, his friends, play in the larger narrative. It’s not just about him. When Julia and Q enter Fillory together for the first time, they’re transported back to their childhood, and all of a sudden, they’re the best friends they were before magic ever happened.

It’s a strong, quiet moment of full character realization. In the following two seasons, Quentin still manages to hold on to his innocent view of magic, sometimes to the detriment of the others around him. When the group is presented a quest in season three, Q’s adamant he’s the one to take on the quest and return magic to the world, forgetting the fact he’s the one who inadvertently lost all the world’s magic. It’s these contradictions, though, that make Q the most human out of everyone. Because sometimes heroes are just regular people, and their intentions may not always be pure, but they can be heroic all the same. That need to be someone important lies in all of us. From our perspective, we are the heroes of our own story. It’s other people, though, that help that story along. Keeping in mind that, to them, they’re on their own quest to discover magic or a dragon or two.

The 21 Best LGBTQ Couples on TV

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It’s Valentine’s Day and we wanted to celebrate some of our favorite LGBTQ couples on television. There’s a lot of them, and we did our best. Across many genres, LGBTQ representation has risen steadily; most importantly, the love stories told only continue to become more mainstream and filled with joy. Not every fate for these couples listed are good ones, but their story nonetheless is rooted in captivating performances and some of the most romantic moments to ever grace the small screen.

Apple TV+

Sue/Emily, Dickinson

Literary lovers, unite! Though the historical relationship between Emily Dickinson and her best-friend-turned-sister-in-law Sue Gilbert is largely speculative, Dickinson packs so much passion between the two that it’s not hard to believe that each detail is real. At a time where society frowned upon the very idea of a lesbian relationship, Emily and Sue had to share their love through stolen moments of secrecy. From tender glances to fiery intimacy to delicate dedications of now-renowned poems, Sue transformed Emily from a figure of cold isolation into a warmhearted and strong-willed individual fighting for her love through her words.—Kellie Innes

NBC

Ray/Kevin, Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Brooklyn Nine-Nine had strong representation right from the start but as the show developed it truly began to find its footing in its romantic relationships. This is the case with Captain Holt and his husband, Kevin, who was often used as a means of comedy, the straight man to Holt’s straight man who made the latter look looser and emotional in comparison. They’re given a true story arc in the last season after they’ve separated due to the constraints of Holt’s job and Kevin’s unhappiness because of it. It might’ve taken too long to get a kiss shared between the two, but the show went all out on it with the romance as the two raced through the rain to reconcile.—Allyson Johnson

BBC America

Eve/Villanelle, Killing Eve

Okay, so maybe Eve and Villanelle haven’t truly consummated their relationship and, sure, if they don’t by the series end there will be no end to the barrage of angry comments. But goodness gracious does their chemistry simply burn a hole through the screen when they’re together. Sandra Oh and Jodie Comer are electric together, making their initial cat and mouse routine so enticing that it was easy to miss some of the more notable flaws of the series. What makes their dynamic even more interesting is that we aren’t waiting to solve the other or to make them better. Rather, they’re so entranced by one another that they can’t help but want to see part of the world through the other’s eyes.—Allyson Johnson

NRK

Even/Isak, Skam

Skam, the Norwegian series about a group of friends that took the internet by storm, had already had two strong seasons focusing on other characters before the release of the third. And while everyone might have their own favorite, for many, Season 3 stood out not just because of the romance but because of the character study of Isak as he came into his own and reconciled with his sexuality.

The sweet and cinematic romance between him and Even simply made it better, especially as it also addresses mental health and how to approach discussions of it with a partner. Like all of Skam, the relationship between the two was treated with frank honesty and disorienting realism, always recognizing they were teenagers and, thus, likely to make mistakes and do so in ways that didn’t instantly villainize them.—Allyson Johnson

Netflix

The Sense8s, Sense8

Sure, we should highlight the official pairs like Nomi and Amanita and Lito and Hernando and certainly, there is plenty to celebrate regarding how both relationships were depicted throughout the series with such warmth and positivity without ever resulting in cheap conflict. However, one of the greatest aspects of Sense8 was the bonds all eight members involved in the mental link.

The show took pains to express the pansexuality of its characters, expressed in not just one mental orgy sequence, but one that also closed out the entirety of the series which enveloped all of the Sense8 members along with their significant others. For a show as deliberately progressive as Sense8 and one which seeks to express the beauty found in the bonds between strangers of all walks of life, it beautifully demonstrates how love can transcend differences.—Allyson Johnson

Netflix

Ola/Lily, Sex Education

There are plenty of dynamics worth celebrating on Sex Education, romantic and otherwise, but the romance that blossoms between Ola and Lily is one of the unassuming sweetest. Between their colorful dispositions (and wardrobes) and Lily’s creative pursuits, their dynamic is curious and thoughtful as their relationship develops. They get a decent amount of time dedicated to them in season three as they explore their relationship and the communication required for it. Patricia Allison and Tanya Reynolds share tangible chemistry and the greatest aspect of their dynamic is how the show makes sure to honor both of their individual spirits while similarly leaving space for how they are suited for one another.—Allyson Johnson

HBO Max

Harley Quinn/Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn

In a series as outrageous as HBO Max’s animated series Harley Quinn, the most surprising element isn’t the old man who grotesquely transforms into an automobile, gruesome and casual murders or a talking, perpetually stoned plant, but instead, the sincerity in the burgeoning romance between Harley and Ivy.

Since the start of the series, Ivy hasn’t so much been Harley’s moral center—she has her own codes she lives by which certainly include violence—but her guiding force and greatest support. There was a love story of deep friendship and then love as, towards the end of Season 2, a drunken night saw Harley realizing her deeper feelings for her friend. There’s madness, mayhem, and shock value galore in this series, and what anchors it is this central relationship that’s allowed for far greater character growth for both characters in a show that could have rested on violence and gratuity.—Allyson Johnson

Netflix

Dani/Jamie, The Haunting of Bly Manor

Dani Clayton and Jamie Taylor’s relationship in “The Haunting of Bly Manor” was one of the best things that the audience had a chance to see last year. The incredible bond between the shy and slightly clumsy au pair and the quiet but wise groundskeeper set in the gothic horror narrative appears unrivaled, but it’s an excellent way to build tension, horror, and add a layered, complex story we won’t soon forget. That is, without a doubt, why Mike Flanagan is one of the best contemporary horror directors.

Regardless of the tragic and quite heartbreaking finale, Dani and Jamie’s love story is a true anchor of the show and means more than we can imagine, particularly for the LGBTQ+ community. It’s very personal to witness such an incredible, beautiful sapphic love story, especially being a lesbian film and television critic.—Zofia Wijaszka

Fox

Santana/Brittany, Glee

In “Glee,” we follow the lives of the New Directions members, a glee club in a Lima high school. One of the most interesting and empowering elements of the show is the budding relationship between Santana and Brittany. Their bond grows, evolves, and flourishes as the seasons’ pass. When Ryan Murphy introduced Brittany and Santana, two McKinley High School cheerleaders and members of Will Schuester’s glee club, he created one of the first diverse, female same-sex relationships on television.

By crafting and developing their relationship, the creators highlighted the challenges that members of the LGBTQ+ community face not only in their schools and workplaces but also among their family members. Re-watching the show and, specifically, their plotline now, especially in light of the tragic death of Naya Rivera, who portrayed the headstrong and empowering Santana, is a worthwhile experience.Zofia Wijaszka

Netflix

Adora/Catra, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Catra and Adora’s relationship isn’t just the best ship of Netflix’s She-Ra reboot She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, it’s the heart of it. The two shared a childhood shaped by trauma and war, having grown up in the Fright Zone, trained to be soldiers in the villainous Horde army, and manipulated by their guardian and maternal figure Shadow Weaver. But Adora and deuteragonist Catra always seemed to occupy a space all their own, stealing quiet moments of tenderness amidst the harshness of their surroundings.

When She-Ra discovers the truth about who raised them and becomes the magical heroine She-Ra, her former friend Catra becomes her embittered, formidable adversary as the two find themselves on opposing sides. But even at their lowest, they always share a bond that eventually becomes powerful enough to save an entire universe, prove capable of providing support and healing after trauma, and bring us one of the most groundbreaking relationships in TV.—Andrea Thompson

Disney+

Luz/Amity, The Owl House

It was the moment that caused an entire fandom to literally fall out of their seats. Luz and Amity’s growing bond on The Owl House had quickly grown to be one of its highlights, with fans shipping the two and Amity’s arc progressing from one-note mean girl to a complex fan favorite and staunch ally to the human Luz after she finds herself in a magical, otherworldly realm and begins training as a witch.

When Amity finally got up her nerve to make a move and actually kissed Luz on the cheek, fans went wild as Disney, a company that had practically built its brand on heteronormativity, gave us a sweetly romantic relationship between two teenage girls and depicted it as perfectly normal. Luz and Amity not only attended their world’s version of prom and shared a very much not platonic dance together, they later made it official, asking each other out and becoming determinedly supportive partners to each other in a healthy LGBTQ relationship that needed no permission or even homophobic obstacles to overcome.—Andrea Thompson

The CW

Bess/Odette, Nancy Drew

Bess and Odette may have never had a chance at a happy ending, but their relationship gave both characters needed growth and allowed Odette to finally be at peace in the afterlife. As Odette shared George’s body, there was always an instability to her existence, but regardless, these two characters bring out the best in each other, with Odette helping to build up Bess’s confidence and sense of self-worth.

As Bess is the only permanent LGBTQ character on the show, this does, unfortunately, add to a string of ended relationships, but it’s still important to recognize that not every romantic relationship is endgame (looking at you Nancy Drew) but these “midgame” relationships still have beauty in them. This one ended heartbreakingly, but with Odette contributing to the lift of someone she loves and leaving behind the violence and anger she once harbored.—Amanda Reimer

Fox

Kurt/Blaine, Glee

Kurt and Blaine may have not been perfect; in fact, there were several times they clearly weren’t, but they were also one of the ships that helped young people discover themselves. Glee aired during a major resurgence of the LGBTQ rights movement, a fight that still isn’t over yet. However, their story showed the ups and downs of any couple struggling to stay together during the transition from youth to adulthood. The Warblers’ rendition of Teenage Dream is one of the most popular of the Glee covers to date, and also happens to frame a moment of queer romance. Kurt and Blaine got their happy ending and showed fans that even if things are shaky at the moment, there is still hope.—Amanda Reimer

Warner Brothers

Root/Shaw, Person of Interest

Root and Shaw are also one of those couples that were drenched in unexpected and natural chemistry. Person of Interest is hardly a romantic show and didn’t have great endings for many of its characters, so it’s not surprising that these two didn’t end up together in the end. That said, the push-and-pull dynamic between Root and Sam definitely heated up the show and definitely for the better.

Root and Shaw weren’t really sure how to go forward with their chemistry; they were emotionally-stunted outcasts, but that feeling can easily be translated to people who don’t have much experience with relationships due to their environment or other factors that make being out and queer difficult. Seeing queer relationships in genres that’s focus isn’t on romance is encouraging, and Root and Shaw definitely were buzz-worthy when they were on the air.—Amanda Reimer

Freeform

Kate/Mallory, Cruel Summer

Kate and Mallory were pleasingly unexpected in Freeform’s Cruel Summer. At first, they just appeared to have a natural chemistry which was easy to write off; after all, Kate did have a boyfriend in the 1993 timeline. However, with the final episodes of the first season, it became clear that Cruel Summer wasn’t going to make the mistake of ignoring something even if it may have not initially been planned.

Kate and Mallory kiss in some of the final moments of the season, which we now know is an anthology, placing even more meaning on the relationship in terms of Kate’s arc throughout the season. She has a happy ending, and finally feels free enough to act truly impulsively, but from the heart. Mallory may have not been a fan favorite, but she did offer Kate support and kindness through the season, and Kate offered those things as well when Jeanette often rejected her. These two are a tale of acceptance and support in the aftermath of trauma, which is why it’s one of our favorite queer ships.—Amanda Reimer

Freeform

Magnus/Alec, Shadowhunters

One’s half-angel, the other’s half-demon, but Alec and Magnus are pretty much a done deal from the moment they meet each other early in Season 1 of Freeform’s Shadowhunters, a television adaptation of Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments series. Despite coming from two very different worlds, the strength in Alec and Magnus’ relationship lies in their communication, dedication, and loyalty to each other. Sure, they might hit a few roadblocks over the three seasons of the show’s run, including but not limited to very dumb demon deals and lying about very important things that might put an entire group of people’s life at risk, but hey, they make it through. They also really know how to throw weddings.—Katey Stoetzel

The CW

Michael/Alex, Roswell, New Mexico

One’s an alien, the other’s a human … ugh, you get it. Michael Guerin and Alex Manes may hook up in Roswell, New Mexico‘s pilot episode, but they take a very long while finding their way back to each other by mid-Season 3. There’s a lot of baggage following these two—from homophobic fathers, alien secrets, to misguided threesomes with their mutual best friend, Michael and Alex seem to go through it all.

It’s a frustrating rollercoaster but it’s worth it to watch them both grow individually and shed their shared trauma so they can move forward together toward better days. Roswell, New Mexico is basically an alien soap opera, so who knows how long the happiness they found at the end of Season 3 will last. Here’s hoping they stick together in whatever alien drama finds them next.—Katey Stoetzel

HBO Max

Greta/Riley, Genera+ion

Probably one of the sweetest couples to ever grace television that still manages to make you cry. Greta and Riley don’t know what they want during the 16 episodes of Generation’s run. But that’s what’s great with a show about queer high schoolers—they’re allowed to not fully understand yet. Riley and Greta’s mutual affection for each other is clear from the start, but Riley’s never been with a girl before, and Greta’s not sure about taking the next step at all.

Generation‘s cancellation is unfortunate since we can’t see these two officially be together, but the show’s finale did give us a love declaration, and a moment that affirms Greta’s asexuality—though she doesn’t use the label, she’s proud and she’s confident in where she stands when it comes to sex, and makes it clear that her love for Riley is as real as it gets. What more could you want? (I mean, another 3 seasons ASAP).—Katey Stoetzel

Apple TV+

Dana/Rachel, Mythic Quest

Dana and Rachel’s slow burn romance in the testing room of the Mythic Quest: Raven’s Banquet office has been a sweet relief from the toxic management from Ian and Poppy on Mythic Quest. Seriously, Rachel and Dana are probably the sanest people in this office. They’re officially together in Season 2, where their responsibilities at the video game company get larger and the two navigate the next steps in their professional and personal lives. And even though they sometimes gett roped into Ian and Poppy’s shenanigans, they’re able to push through whatever corporate America throws at them next.—Katey Stoetzel

Fox

Carlos/TK, 911: Lone Star

TK and Carlos have been through a lot. Their rocky beginning in Season 1 meant they were never on the same page about what their relationship was until Season 1’s finale, and all it took was a solar storm to solidify many life decisions for TK. What’s great about 911: Lone Star is how unassuming it is with its queer representation—notable for a show about first responders in the very traditionally masculine setting of the firehouse.

Now in Season 3, TK and Carlos’ relationship is one of the staples of the show, and despite that little off-screen breakup drama that happened in between Seasons 2 and 3, the aftermath of which we had to deal with for 4 episodes in a row, they seem to be pretty solid. There might be some troubling times ahead—TK’s addiction issues might rise to the surface again if episode synopsises are anything to go by—but after that ice storm and hypothermia plotline, they can pretty much get through anything. Now if only TK can stay out of the hospital long enough for them to have an actual conversation, that would be great.—Katey Stoetzel

Syfy

Quentin/Eliot, The Magicians

Is it canon if it only happened in an alternate timeline in the past? Quentin and Eliot is probably the one couple on television that is constantly on my mind. It’s the what-if of it all. What if their relationship was important enough to explore further? What if Quentin didn’t die at the end of Season 4? This one hurts, but when Quentin and Eliot were on screen together, they were magic.

To answer the question above, of course it’s canon. But that’s the problem with The Magicians—most of its revolutionary queer representation happens in mind scapes or alternate universes. While Season 3’s “A Life in a Day” gives us the best Quentin/Eliot content of the whole show, and Season 4’s corresponding “Escape from the Happy Place” confirmed what that Season 3 episode left behind, it still stings to know the core of their relationship happened in a bubble. When it came time to deal with it in the real world, Quentin was killed off, and Eliot was forced to confront his feelings while he mourned him. But for 3 and a half seasons, these best friends were inseparable, and while their love for each other was subtle, it was undeniable.—Katey Stoetzel

The post The 21 Best LGBTQ Couples on TV first appeared on The Young Folks.

18 outstanding musical moments from non-musical TV shows

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With the 25th anniversary of Buffy the Vampire Slayer taking place this March, there’s been plenty to pour over regarding the show’s legacy and its toxic creator. That said, beyond the showrunner and the alleged onset behaviors he’s done, there are portions of the series that, to this day, stand the test of time. Many of these can be credited to the strong cast, though some, in particular, simply work because the idea behind it was strong. However, one of the best examples of the show’s creativity was the musical episode, “Once More, With Feeling,” which allowed the characters to sing their innermost thoughts and feelings that, previously, had been tucked away.

Read More: How Buffy Summers could beat over half of the Avengers in a fair fight

The musical episode isn’t exactly a rarity, with examples ranging from Psych to Futurama and Grey’s Anatomy to Lucifer. However, for all the shows that choose to indulge in this style of storytelling, few manage to execute it with inducing a severe level of secondhand embarrassment. It’s what allows “Once More, With Feeling” to remain such a classic – even when some of the actors aren’t able to convincingly carry a tune, the performances make sense within the context of the show.

Despite the uneven history of the musical episode, television has often had a strong showing of musical moments within regular installments. Taking inspiration from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, we ranked the 18 best musical moments in non-musical shows (eliminating possibilities from musical series such as Glee and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.)

Broad City – A Visit From Val 

The best moments in Broad City are when the sitcom explores the different sides of Abbi and Ilana’s personas. Fortunately, the episode “Hashtag FOMO” delivers on this. In the episode, Ilana drags Abbi to several parties across town because she has a bad case of FOMO or fear of missing out. However, none of the gatherings live up to Ilana’s high expectations, not even Lincoln’s wine and cheese bash.

Eventually, Abbi gets so blackout drunk that she takes Ilana to an underground speakeasy, which is where she sings Ruth Etting’s “Get Happy” as her alter ego Val. And just like Beyoncé’s Sasha Fierce, Val gives Abbi power. Decked out in a fedora and black mini suit dress, Val banters with guests, smokes cigarillos, and even calls Ilana her “baby girl.” Not only does this musical number show that FOMO is not a great way to live one’s life, but it also gives viewers a more confident and lively Abbi. [Phylecia Miller]

Netflix /BoJack Horseman

Bojack Horseman – Don’t Stop Dancing

Bojack Horseman took its final bow a little over two years ago and, even still, elements from entire character arcs to mere fragments of the show continue to stick. One of these seemingly small moments that instead encapsulates all that the character has journeyed to takes place in the final season, as Bojack, near death, envisions himself in a type of purgatory where he’s confronted again with the people he’s lost, let down, and/or somehow been the catalyst of their particular demise–be it creative or life. The reprise of “Don’t Stop Dancing ‘Til The Curtains Fall” sung by Sarah Lynn is haunting in how it takes what once was a jaunty show tune into a depressive, melancholic farewell, even when it’s given a pop-synth breakdown. To then end the sequence with characters leaving through a literal stage door, one where the exit leads to uncertainty is bold and highlights so much of what this series and its titular character were about. Perpetually grappling with and running from his mistakes, until he’s forced to confront them. [Allyson Johnson]

The WB

Buffy the Vampire SlayerGoing Through the Motions and Where Do We Go From Here

The opening and closing numbers from Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s musical outing “Once More With Feeling” are the strongest of the bunch. The episode captures Buffy’s (Sarah Michelle Gellar) depression rather perfectly in all of the songs, but these two stand out as the driving thematic touchstones of the episode as well as the season. Buffy’s friends pull her from a peaceful afterlife to once again take on the responsibilities of the slayer and life in general—”Going Through The Motions” is a highly relatable number about what it’s like to walk through life feeling numb but still technically functional.

“Where Do We Go From Here” is an ensemble number, started by Buffy but finished by the rest of the cast. It has the strongest sound to it and spins the Scbooy Gang’s victory over the Dance Demon into a bittersweet one after Buffy’s revelation about her resurrection. A once strong demon-fighting group knows they’re broken but also understands the fight goes on. Demons they can handle, but how do they repair the damage and the hurt amongst themselves?  [Katey Stoetzel]

CBS

How I Met Your Mother – Nothing Suits Me Like a Suit

For How I Met Your Mother’s 100th episode, the series went all out with a musical dream sequence starring Barney (Neil Patrick Harris). When Barney starts pursuing a woman who hates his love of suits, Barney is torn: will he abandon his favorite clothes for the love of a woman? Or, are suits his one true love? The name of the song—“Nothing Suits Me Like a Suit”—gives it away, but that hardly matters. It’s an extravagant and absurd way to commemorate 100 episodes of the series, and a catchy one at that. [Claire Di Maio]

FX

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia – The NightMan Cometh

Most community theater productions can be an absolute drag. Luckily, the musical Charlie produces in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia is anything but that. The episode opens with Charlie telling The Gang that he wrote a musical called “The Nightman Cometh.” Though initially skeptical, Mac, Dennis, Dee, and Frank participate in the production because they are too narcissistic to give away their parts. Yet, as Charlie’s friends rehearse his rock opera, they soon realize that the musical is about a little boy who is preyed upon by an individual called “the Nightman.” 

Positively cringy and risque, this episode proves that creator Charlie Day and the cast of Sunny are the masters of their craft. Sure, Day is no Stephen Sondheim, but “The Nightman Cometh” will make you laugh. And thanks to the popularity of Day and composer Cormac Bluestone’s songs, the cast of Sunny got the opportunity to perform the music live in six cities. [Phylecia Miller]

Warner Bros.

Justice League Unlimited – This Little Piggy 

As the latest Robert Pattinson led The Batman understood, the best version of the Caped Crusader is often one who allows a level of levity into their story. It’s why, despite a superbly bizarre turn from Pattinson, the Kevin Conroy animated version of the character remains to be the best iteration. While Batman the Animated Series is the obvious example to look at, he’s just as great in Justice League Unlimited, which brought thematically adult tones and storylines to what was, inevitably, a kid’s show. One of the best throughlines is a developing will-they-won’t-they romance between Batman and Wonder Woman, with one thread of it, in particular, leading to an exasperated Batman having to sing at an open mic (cowl in place) to have Wonder Woman turned back into a human from the pig she’d been transformed into it. Now let’s see if their live-action films attempt that. [Allyson Johnson]

FX

Legion – Rainbow Connection 

The strongest element of this scene is how the series utilizes the inherent sweetness of the song “Rainbow Connection” to jarringly juxtapose Dan Stevens’s wide-eyed, petrified gaze as he softly croons the piece. Lost in his head, we get glimpses of danger and corner of your gaze nightmares that infuse an already unsettling scene with an oppressive sense of foreboding. [Allyson Johnson]

The Flash – Superfriends

There’s a lot to choose from in the musical crossover episode from The Flash’s third season, “Duet.” Not only does this episode crossover with Supergirl, but it brings together Melissa Benoist (Supergirl), Grant Gustin (The Flash), and Darren Criss (The Music Meister) together for a musical reunion. Crossovers at one point were one of the main allures of The CW’s DC multiverse, but this episode takes the cake with the Glee nostalgia.

Kara and Barry’s duet “Super Friend” encapsulates the spirit of both of these different sides of this episode and puts the actors’ singing chops to good use. When The Music Meister puts both Kara and Barry into a musical dream world, these two use their relationship and their lesser-known power of on-the-spot songwriting abilities to satisfy the Meister long enough to get shot and subsequently saved by their love interests, allowing for the perfectly poised love confession. How’s that for a reunion? [Amanda Reimer]

HBO

The Leftovers – Homeward Bound

One of the many strengths of HBO’s The Leftovers was how, no matter how devastating, the emotions were always visceral. In season two, while Justin Theroux’s Keven is stuck somewhere in between life and death, he’s required to sing a song to complete the journey he’s on, leading to a cathartic rendition of “Homeward Bound” which plays out like poison being sucked from a wound. As images flash forward of the people he loves, he’s reminded of why he’s on this current path and continues his song until it’s done. Theroux is captivating as Kevin crumbles ever so slightly with each verse, the sequence just a brief example of why The Leftovers is considered an all-time best. [Allyson Johnson]

The Magicians – Under Pressure

Yes, technically, it was the 25th anniversary of Buffy the Vampire Slayer that inspired this piece, but between myself and TV Editor Katey, we would’ve found a way to highlight this moment eventually. In Season 3, the show’s strongest, the group of magicians have been split up between worlds – both living and not quite so–and their would-be friend Josh is stuck in a pocket reality. To save him as well as uniting a progressively tethering group, they must sing along to David Bowie and Freddie Mercury’s “Under Pressure.” Only a few of the actors are truly good singers (special shoutout to Hale Applemen and Jade Tailor) and that’s part of what makes it such a satisfying and cathartic moment. They aren’t singing to be shone a spotlight on, they’re singing out of desperation for their friends. It’s a lovely, absurdist moment of television that perfectly encapsulated the peculiar heart The Magicians so often wore on its sleeve. [Allyson Johnson]

USA Network

Mr. RobotRule the World

Sam Esmail’s Mr. Robot is a show known for chill-inducing needle drops and deep character work, but few impacted the show’s fanbase quite like Portia Dobuleday’s performance in this season two episode. Angela’s original intent to infiltrate E-Corp has finally begun to break her. By the time she’s truly resigned herself to a sense of failure, she gives this performance at a pedantic 4th of July Karaoke party, and we hear not the original studio recording but a drunken, dulcet cover. Her singing is unnatural and hollow. Not a true performance but a desperate plea to be seen and heard by anyone in the room. But the audience sees her with a tight close-up and glassy eyes for the duration of the song, intercut with fSociety’s panicked rush to find dirt on an E-Corp lawyer once she discovers them hiding out in her elitist bourgeois New York apartment. For Angela, this moment feels like her life has ended a second time and she’ll continue to walk the scorched earth of corruption she has now taken part in for the rest of the series. [Evan Griffin]

Peacemaker – The Opening Credits 

Argue as you might if this moment, in particular, deserves a spot on this list, but it isn’t just a highlight of a very solid series, but a reminder of how the DC Universe, when it chooses to be, can have a bit of fun. James Gunn often brings music into his work and it’s best here due in large part to how seriously the entire cast is taking the choreographed dance. John Cena is a particular standout as he keeps a stony facade throughout which sets the tone for the ridiculous levels of spectacle the series will present us. [Allyson Johnson]

ABC

Pushing Daisies – “Hopelessly Devoted to You”

Pushing Daisies knew it had a treasure on its hands when it cast Tony-winning theater legend, Kristin Chenoweth, as lovelorn waitress Olive Snook. Discouraged that her boss Ned (Lee Pace) will never love her, Olive cleans the empty restaurant while singing Grease’s “Hopelessly Devoted to You.” Dancing alone through the restaurant, Chenoweth’s powerful rendition of the song is enough to win you over, and desperately hope Olive finds a love of her own. It’s not like the witty, candy-colored Pushing Daisies needed to further convince you of its twee charm, but a little extra whimsy never hurt anyone. [Claie Di Maio]

Schitt’s Creek – Maybe This Time

Schitt’s Creek had three stand-out musical moments during its run and all three are amazing. But Stevie’s (Emily Hampshire) rendition of “Maybe This Time” from the Moira Rose-directed production of Cabaret in Season 5 is the standout. Throughout Season 5, Stevie Budd flourishes in her business partnership with Johnny running the motel, but she’s also wondering what more she has to offer to the world and herself. After a disastrous breakup with motel reviewer Amir, Moria gives Stevie a boost of confidence by casting her as Sally Bowles. Despite initially accepting the offer, Stevie fights her starring role every step of the way until she starts to get the hang of it. But it’s not until she’s singing “Maybe This Time” on stage that Stevie’s seasonal arc solidifies itself. The play is temporary, a stop-gap after a bad breakup and waning career opportunities, but the strength of Stevie’s voice rings a powerful truth—maybe this time, the next time, or right now, Stevie’s going to win. [Katey Stoetzel]

NBC

Scrubs – Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

A formative television moment for myself as well as one for Zach Braff’s JD in Scrubs as he truly learns what it means to lose a patient, season two’s “My Philosophy” showcases a quietly confident moment in the series. Demonstrating the eagerness of the show to push formative boundaries of comedy by bringing in fantastical and musical elements, the sequence is led by a woman who envisions death as a grand stage. The number “Waiting for My Real Life to Begin” allows each of the characters to express their feelings from the episode through song and the effect, like the very best of Scrubs, is emotionally open, wickedly clever, and odd. [Allyson Johnson]

Netflix/Sense8

Sense8 – What’s Up

It would be easy to write off the “What’s Up?” by 4 Non Blonds montage as a little on the nose in Season 1 Episode 4 of Sense8. After all, the episode is also titled “What’s Going on?” a main lyric of the song. But this episode-closing sequence perfectly captures the strange circumstances the Sense8’s find themselves in. It’s early in the show, and despite not knowing why everyone continuously appears in each other’s lives as real apparitions, they still help each other. The sequence begins when Riley plays “What’s Up?” on her iPod, the song filtering into the other lives of the Sense8’s, everyone joining the sing along despite how little they understand their situation. Across the world, people connect through song, forgetting for a moment the problems that surround them and embracing the oddities of life and all that comes with it. [Katey Stoetzel]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9iYm9PEAHg

Spongebob Squarepants – Sweet Victory

Every millennial knows the Spongebob Squarepants episode “Band Geeks,’ Squidward spends the entire episode trying to prepare the people of Bikini Bottom for a performance at the upcoming Bubble Bowl to show his pompous rival Squelium (Oh no, he’s hot!), that he can still compose great music. The band practice turns to disaster, and despite the enthusiasm of Spongebob and Co., Squidward’s faith is completely shot, and for once, the audience agrees with him, completely prepared for failure as the gang emerges to a crowd of feverishly wild human football fans in the crowd.

The brass section plays an introductory set of notes that harmonize beautifully, but in 2002, no one was prepared for the rest: Plankton on a melancholic keyboard, Spongebob sings with vocals comparable to Phil Collins, Patrick on drums, Sandy on Bass, and Mr. Krabs on Keytar. The reveal is truly one of the most astonishing in animation history; its impact is so much that Squealium is pulled out on a stretcher and Squidward gets his sweet, victorious Breakfast Club freeze-frame as the episode fades out. [Evan Griffin]

Apple TV+

Ted Lasso – Let it Go

Frozen’s “Let It Go” holds double meaning on Ted Lasso. It’s sung by Rebecca (Hannah Waddingham) at karaoke as she celebrates her football club’s latest victory. She finally feels pride in the club—it used to belong to her nasty ex-husband—and starts to feel like herself again. Ted (Jason Sudeikis), who’s going through a divorce himself, excuses himself as he senses the beginnings of a panic attack come on. When the song ends, Rebecca leaves to help Ted, and she sees him as someone with more to him than his chipper exterior. “Let It Go” gives them both a moment of vulnerability, to see each other for more than what they present themselves to be. They’re no longer a hard-edged boss and her inexperienced new colleague, but friends who can rely on one another. Who knew karaoke had such emotional power? [Claire Di Maio]

The post 18 outstanding musical moments from non-musical TV shows first appeared on The Young Folks.

45 must-see Queer TV streaming right now

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It may be half way through Pride month, but there’s still plenty of TV to watch. From streaming services to network shows, LGBTQ characters and storylines are almost a dime a dozen now (though I’ll always take more!)

The staff at The Young Folks, with some extra help from our critic friends, pulled together a list of shows available to stream right now that feature and/or center LGBTQ characters and storylines. Some shows fully embrace the queer experience, while others are notable for incorporating queer characters and storylines in their side plots but are still worth checking out. Even if you’ve seen most of these shows before, perhaps you’ll find something you weren’t expecting or you revisit a favorite show you haven’t in awhile. Either way, happy Pride! And happy watching.

The CW

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Created by Rachel Bloom and Aline Brosh McKenna, The CW’s Crazy Ex-Girlfriend was an entirely singular musical comedy series that ran for four glorious seasons, ending in 2019. The series follows high-strung New York lawyer Rebecca Bunch (Bloom) who, after suffering a nervous breakdown, quits her six-figure job and moves across the country to West Covina, California in an attempt to rekindle a romantic connection with a childhood crush from summer camp.

Among the show’s many progressive elements (spurred on by inclusive writing and a diverse cast) was its attitude towards sexuality—from toe-tapping tunes like “Gettin’ Bi” to more somber but still sweet arcs exploring wound-up Valencia (Gabrielle Ruiz) and her relationship with queerness, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend boats an effortlessly progressive attitude towards depictions of LGBTQ+ characters. Though certainly not the loudest in terms of its queer storylines, it’s the nonchalant way in which CXG folds queer stories into its narrative fabric that makes it so refreshing. All four seasons are available on Netflix.—Lauren Coates

Vida

Created by Tanya Saracho, Vida changed the game for Latinx representation in television when it first aired in 2018. The series follows the story of two sisters, Emma (Mishel Prada) and Lyn (Melissa Barrera). The pair must put aside their differences when they return to East L.A. after their mother dies. Revolutionary in centering Latinx and queer folks in front of and behind the camera, this show explored the complexities of sexuality, prejudice, and acceptance in Mexican-American families.

Through three seasons, we witness Emma struggle to come to terms with her own queerness, with much of her turmoil caused by her mother’s judgment. When the sisters come home to take care of their mother’s affairs and discover she fell in love with and married a woman, their grief becomes a much more complicated process, especially for Emma. At its core, this is a story about a family’s love and how that makes or breaks every one of us. Three seasons are available on Prime Video.—Melissa Linares

One Day at a Time

Inspired by the Norman Lear series of the same name, One Day at a Time follows the Cuban-American Alvarez family. The series seamlessly tackles racism, mental illness, homophobia, and other taboo topics in Latin families. Elena (Isabella Gomez) is the oldest daughter of the family and as she begins to understand her sexuality, her family comes to terms with it in different ways. We see how her religious grandmother Lydia (Rita Moreno) easily accepts her, while her seemingly open-minded mother Penelope (Justina Machado) has a harder time coming to terms with her daughter’s identity.

The show explores Elena’s story with grace and truth. One of the best moments of the series comes during the celebration of her “Quinces.” Not accepting her identity, Elena’s father decides not to show up for the father-daughter dance. Elena shares a beautiful moment with her mother and the rest of her family who join her on the dance floor to let her know she’s not alone. This moment captures the heart of the show best—a family that truly loves you will show up for you, always. All four seasons are available on Netflix. —Melissa Linares

Feel Good

Mae Martin’s semi-autobiographical comedy-drama Feel Good is a compassionate portrayal of the intersection between addiction and queer shame. The series follows Mae (Mae Martin) as they struggle with maintaining their sobriety after a newfound romance with their girlfriend, George (Charlotte Ritchie), stirs up deep-seated feelings of unworthiness. Addiction within the queer community is seldom addressed and often chalked up to the assumption that party culture is intrinsic to queerness.

Feel Good, however, locates the issue of substance abuse in a world that dismisses queer existence. Mae is unable to believe that George’s love is unconditional, and hence self-sabotages their relationship, which leads to their relapse. Other than Mae’s queerness, the series also handles George’s bisexuality with grace, as her love for Mae allows her to be a fierce advocate for her queer students. The series concludes with a joyful reconciliation between George and Mae, as Mae learns to accept that happiness is not only possible but wholly deserved. Two seasons are available on Netflix. Two seasons are available on Netflix.—Sharmane Tan

HBO Max

The Other Two

Chris Kelly and Sarah Schneider’s The Other Two is a comedy series that embraces the ugly ways gay shame intrudes into our lives. The show follows Cary Dubek (Drew Tarver) as he attempts to resurrect his failing acting career after his younger brother, Chase (Case Walker), becomes a viral internet sensation overnight. During his job search, Cary realizes that while the showbiz industry claims to accept queers, his sexuality is still exploited for profit.

Every encounter with homophobia in an industry that Cary wants to succeed in drags up his repressed feelings of shame, which heightens the displacement that he feels. Throughout it all, the series views Cary’s shame with compassion—his awkwardness is endearing as it is an indictment of straight society’s mistreatment of queer folks. The Other Two is abundantly kind towards gays who are struggling with shame, and hence is a series that deserves our attention. Two seasons are available on HBO Max.—Sharmane Tan

It’s a Sin

It’s a Sin, written by Russell T Davies, follows a group of gay men and their friends in London in the 1980s at the beginning and into the height of the HIV/AIDS crisis, and how it impacts their lives. The show is a raw and heartbreaking exploration of one of the biggest injustices to face the gay community in recent history. Davies’ impeccably emotive writing mixes well with fully realised, likable characters who are hard not to get attached to.

The overall narrative is filled with so much pain, (it’s no surprise that you’ll probably want a box of tissues at hand if you’re thinking of binging this), but Davies finds that perfect balance between friendship and hardship, and on top of that it’s a positive representation of what it means to be unashamedly gay. Although It’s a Sin is a tough watch, it requires viewing and goes a long way to combat the continuing demonization of HIV/AIDS, which is still specifically pointed toward gay people. It’s a Sin is available on HBO Max and Channel 4.—Alex Gilston

Years and Years

Mixing dystopian themes with biting social commentary, Years and Years is a six-part drama set over the space of fifteen years following the Lyons, a British family, through the trials and tribulations of an ever-evolving technological life. Russell T Davies tackles everything from immigration, advancements in technology, nuclear war, financial crisis’, and a broad spectrum of political issues in the series’ 6-hour run time. Davies’ golden goose is writing relatable and instantly likable characters, and what makes the show so effective is all of these things are framed around the family unit.

Seeing these ordinary people go through ups and downs adds grounded humanity to issues that some people are privileged enough not to have experienced. One of the main storylines centres around Daniel and his boyfriend Viktor. The most monumental thing about this is that their being gay is treated as a normal thing. This kind of natural representation is something that we should be seeing a lot more of across the line on TV. It’s monumentally important for members of the LGBTQ+ community to see themselves represented on the screen like this. Available on HBO Max.—Alex Gilston

Wynonna Earp

Over four seasons, this Canadian ‘weird west’ soap opera managed to include every possible supernatural trope. Among them: immortal gunfighters stuck down a well for centuries, vampire ex-wives, government agents who are secretly mutant lizard-men, angels who seduced a mother and daughter (separately—don’t be gross), and deathless criminals from the wild west who are periodically resurrected and can only be blasted back to hell with a magic gun wielded by a descendant of Wyatt Earp. But it also managed to contain a ferociously unbreakable bond between jaded gun-wielding biker-chick Wynonna (Melanie Scrofano) and her universally adored, cheerful younger sister Waverly (Dominique Provost-Chalkley), whose relationship with town sheriff Nicole (Katherine Barrell) became the slow-burning heart of the series. Genuinely feminist, violent, disturbing, hilarious, and sexy, usually all at once. And the dance Waverly does for Nicole in her high school cheerleading outfit has to be seen to be believed. All four seasons are available on Netflix.—Sarah Manvel

Angels in America

It’s impossible to overstate the impact of the first half of Angels in America, Millennium Approaches, crash-landing on Broadway in 1993, shortly followed by Perestroika in 1994. Before Tony Kushner, no one had integrated gay stories (or Mormonism) into mainstream American history on such an enormous scale. The 2003 miniseries, directed by Mike Nichols, chose to keep some elements from the theatrical productions—notably the main actors playing all minor parts—but with all the CGI special effects only the screen can provide. Al Pacino, Emma Thompson, and Meryl Streep threw every ounce of their gravitas into roles that, at the time, still had a stigma attached, and Jeffrey Wright reprised his Tony-winning role as the gay carer of Roy Cohn, the Commie-hunter who killed Ethel Rosenberg. It’s rare for a work of art to rewrite how a nation examines its history, but Angels in America did. Available on HBO Max.—Sarah Manvel

Sex Education

Sex Education is undeniably one of the most successful television shows on Netflix. Created by Laurie Nunn, the British comedy-drama stars Asa Butterfield and Gillian Anderson in a complex mother/son duo as they navigate their lives together. Otis Milburn, a high schooler, and his mother, Jean, a sex therapist, illustrate a quite hilarious and quirky pair. The addictive narrative follows Otis as he teams up with a high school classmate, Maeve Wiley (Emma Mackey), to set up an underground sex therapy clinic at school. But Sex Education’s significance lies in the conversation that undeniably follows after the show’s binge-watched. Each episode’s script touches on the matters of healthy sex life, easy access to professionals, adequate sex ed, and openness we should exercise when talking about this aspect of life. Three seasons are available on Netflix.—Zofia Wijaszka

Gentleman Jack

Gentleman Jack is an excellent example of an influential series with skillful storytelling. Sally Wainwright masterfully creates tension and comedy in this fantastic show. At the same time, the premise provokes a conversation about LGBTQ+ rights back then, how far we’ve come and how much farther we need to get and do. After we left Anne Lister (Surrane Jones) and Ann Walker (Sophie Rundle) to their devices in Season 1, the pair got a sacrament in their local church to begin their lives together as a wife and wife.

However, it’s not the end of obstacles for the newly married couple. Season 2 illustrates their marriage and settling together at Shiden Hall with Lister’s family but both women, unfortunately, continue struggling with homophobia and backlash regarding their “unusual” lifestyle. Despite their struggles, the real characters behind the script and Gentleman Jack as a show overall remain an important social commentary regarding the interesting lives of peculiar Anne Lister and intelligent Ann Walker. Two seasons are available on HBO Max.—Zofia Wijaszka

Schitt’s Creek

The POP Original Series Schitt’s Creek showcase the lives of The Roses—Johnny (Eugene Levy) and Moira (Catherine O’Hara), as well as their children, Alexis (Annie Murphy), and David (Dan Levy), who were a once-wealthy family. After being defrauded by their accountant, the Roses lose everything and are forced to relocate to a little town called Schitt’s Creek. 

Schitt’s Creek managed to do something very distinctive—as the creator, Dan Levy created an influential series that not only had a five-rated cast ensemble and an elaborate, clever narrative—all elements carefully-crafted and beyond incredible—but also one that featured a pansexual character in David, and wonderful coming out episode for Patrick (Noah Reid). This easily makes Schitt’s Creek one of this decade’s best and brightest shows. At the same time, Levys present a story that can stimulate many post-show discussions about the significance of tolerance, the unconditional love of parents and friends, and perhaps the charm of small towns. All six seasons are available on Netflix. —Zofia Wijaszka

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Mike Flanagan’s return to The Haunting world wouldn’t leave you to believe that this show would be a gothic romance. However, this adaptation of Henry James’ novella The Turn of The Screw not only came with creepy kids and spirits but also the tender romance between Dani Clayton (Victoria Pedretti) and Jamie Taylor (Amelia Eve). While the scares increased throughout Bly Manor, so did Dani and Jamie’s electric chemistry, full of genuine adoration towards each other. Even though some viewers accused the series of abiding by the “Bury Your Gays” trope, their eventual and tragic end felt heartbreakingly poignant due to the care put into the couple. The Haunting of Bly Manor is available on Netflix.—Erin Brady

Mindhunter

Joe Penhall and David Fincher’s acclaimed crime series, which dramatized the rise of the criminal profiling practice in the 1970s, is forever in our hearts and our minds. Part of this has to do with the fantastic character of Wendy Carr (Anna Torv), a stern and tough psychology professor who reluctantly serves as Special Agent Holden Ford’s (Jonathan Groff) right hand. When she isn’t helping to unravel the inner workings of serial killers, she is trying to find love as a closeted lesbian. Sure, the two relationships she had throughout Mindhunter’s two seasons did not end well. However, the discussions of power dynamics and emotional insecurity in queer relationships are those that need to be discussed more, making the show oddly revolutionary. It also doesn’t hurt that Carr is a great and properly developed character, either. Both seasons are available on Netflix.—Erin Brady

HBO

Six Feet Under

While rightfully known for its incredible series finale, Six Feet Under remains a special part of LGBTQ+ media history. Even though queerness was not the show’s central theme, it’s still one of the most realistic depictions of gay love through the on-and-off romance of Keith Charles (Matthew St. Patrick) and David Fisher (Michael C. Hall). The two are not perfect, with them both poorly dealing with their issues and pasts as the show progressed. At times, their relationship could even border on toxic. However, while their love was never a cure for each other’s problems, it showed that queer relationships are not all that different from straight ones when it comes to the importance of trust. David and Keith didn’t have the smoothest relationship in the world, but it is still so damn heartwarming to watch, even more than 15 years since the show ended. All five seasons are available on HBO Max.—Erin Brady

Skam

You really just had to be there when this Norwegian series was being passed around internationally on Google Drive. Arguably the primary reason for this show’s success was the relationship between Isak Valtersen (Tarjei Sandvik Moe) and Even Bech Næsheim (Henrik Holm) in its third season. The chemistry between the two was intoxicatingly powerful, with their relationship being adapted in various ways throughout the many international adaptations the original show received. Its unexpected popularity, especially among teenagers, left an indelible mark on the portrayal of LGBTQ+ teens and burgeoning sexuality in media.—Erin Brady

Yellowjackets

When you think of LGBTQ+ representation, you probably don’t think about middle-aged women breaking down because they may have been cannibals as teenagers. However, Yellowjackets dare to think differently. While the central plot revolves around a plane crash and the long-lasting traumas that are fostered within its survivors, it is intrinsically a story about the relationships women and girls have with each other. This, of course, translates into sapphic, specifically lesbian, love from the textual (Simone deserves better from Taissa) to the subtextual (Natalie and Misty have major potential for enemies to lovers arc). It’s messy, gross, and maybe a little problematic, but Yellowjackets wears its LGBTQ+ imperfections on its sleeve.—Erin Brady

Queer Eye

Heartwarming and earnest, Queer Eye shows the power of human connection in transforming people’s lives and interrupting prejudice. A reboot of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, this more inclusive version brings together Tan France (Fashion), Antoni Porowski (Food), Karamo Brown (Culture), Bobby Berk (Design), and Jonathan Van Ness (Hair/Self-Care) as the Fab Five. Thanks to the show, Jonathan Van Ness is now a prominent non-binary public figure. The Fab Five travel the U.S. and share their makeover magic with those who often need it most. Each host shows deep compassion in their work, making it poignant when they choose to share their personal experiences as queer people. Queer Eye is now entering its 7th season on Netflix.—Jennifer Studebaker

The L Word

For queer teens with HBO access, The L Word‘s launch in 2004 was like a predecessor to the “It Gets Better” project—a vision of lesbian and bisexual hookups, friendships, and, most importantly, community, in LA. While many aspects haven’t aged well—it is, on the whole, a story about thin, able-bodied white lesbians; trans characters and folks of color are mis- and underrepresented—it’s still a cultural touchstone (would your friends characterize you as a Dana? A Shane? An Alice? Or, god forbid, a Jenny??). It was transgressive for the early 2000’s—the first time we’d seen sapphic sex scenes on TV, unapologetically filmed by and for the queer community—and worth a watch for that reason alone. Availabe on Prime Video.—Chhaya Kolavalli

Steven Universe

There is a reason Steven Universe helped usher in Cartoon Network’s second golden age in the early 2010s. The Peabody Award-winning animated series was one of the few cartoons to tackle gender and queer identity with nuance and care. With its roots in the magical girl genre, Steven Universe subverts societal norms by showing viewers that it is possible to embrace anyone, regardless of who they love or how they identify themselves. Instead of defeating his foes with violence, Steven uses compassion and understanding to make the most powerful galactic empire come to terms with their misdeeds. The young hero may come from a quirky family full of sentient gemstones, but his empathy for others is something anyone can emulate. Available on Hulu and HBO Max. —Phylecia Miller

She-ra and the Princesses of Power

ND Stevenson and DreamWorks Studios did something few animated productions struggle to achieve: they made a beloved 80s Mattel franchise reboot feel fresh and unique. She-Ra and the Princesses of Power accomplish this feat by putting queer storylines and characters at the forefront of the beloved sci-fi animated series. The cartoon refuses to hide or hint at Adora and Catra’s attraction for one another unlike other animated works (cough, cough, The Legend of Korra). Instead, the series develops the lesbian couple’s friendship, conflict, reconciliation, and eventual romance out in the open throughout the five seasons. This relationship, which is a favorite among fans, is one of the reasons the LGBTQ+ community embraces the Netflix animated series full-heartedly. Available on Netflix.—Phylecia Miller

Hulu

Love, Victor

For any fans of the 2018 film Love, Simon, be sure to add this endearingly insightful show to your watchlist. Love, Victor on Hulu currently has two seasons—with the third and final season starting on June 15—and follows Victor Salazar (Michael Cimino), a new kid at the same high school as Simon Spiers of Love, Simon, who is on his own journey of exploring and finding his sexual identity.

With Nick Robinson reprising his role as Simon, Victor has to find a way to balance his newfound sexuality with not just the typical troubles of high school, but also the societal expectations of a male athlete and the heaping dose of animosity from his religious parents. The Season 2 finale left fans with quite the cliffhanger, wondering if Victor would return to his slightly judgmental but nonetheless supportive former boyfriend, Benji (George Sear), or move forward in an exciting new connection with Rahim (Anthony Keyvan). Either way, Season 3 promises to continue with the heartfelt and moving story of a young man who embraces himself above all else. Available on Hulu.—Kellie Innes

The Fosters

Freeform’s The Fosters broke ground for many reasons, perhaps most notably in its embrace and representation of the LGBTQ+ community. Following a foster family who navigates life in all of its ups and downs, the show is rooted in the love that foster mothers Lena and Stef—played beautifully and tenderly by Teri Polo and Sherri Saum—have for each other and extended family. Their relationship both pushes forth the message that LGBTQ+ relationships and parents are no different from heterosexual couples, but also explores the deep issues that each woman faces in regard to family, employment, and even their own feelings for each other.

In addition to Lena and Stef, The Fosters also follows Hayden Byerly as Jude, the youngest foster child in the family, as he explores and emerges into his own sexual orientation. One of the highlights of the whole series is the young and hesitant relationship with his friend-turned-more-than-friend Connor (Gavin MacIntosh), culminating in their historic first kiss, marking the youngest same-sex kiss shown on TV. As their theme song repeatedly croons, The Fosters emphasizes the importance of choosing your family and finding a place where you are accepted and belong no matter what. All five seasons are available on Prime Video.—Kellie Innes

Harley Quinn

Harley Quinn is in love with Poison Ivy. It used to be the worst kept secret in the DC universe, but in recent years has been wholeheartedly embraced by writers and artists, giving the fandom one of the best ongoing relationships between legacy characters in comics history. Then, Harley Quinn came around, relenting against the modern status quo of adult animation and DC canon alike by having little reverence for any rules except for caring about its characters.

The world has long been ready for Harley to break away from her on-and-off relationship with the Joker, and it articulates coming away from toxic relationship rebounds as well as it does showing an organic friendship blossom as Harley (Kaley Cuoco) and Ivy (Lake Bell) share more screen time together than ever before. The growing intimacy of this relationship isn’t forced. It buds from a believable friendship, without any obligatory coming-out story. Instead, the two aren’t presented as characters with arcs defined by their sexuality but as two women supporting each other through their goals and aspirations and even other relationships until we watch a clown queen and an ecoterrorist realize they understand each other more than anyone else ever could. Two seasons are available on HBO Max. —Evan Griffin

The Owl House

The Owl House, created by Dana Terrace, quickly found popularity following its premiere in the winter of 2020. Part of its success is due to how it uses different formats other Disney series typically do not use for their shows. The show represents LGBTQ+ characters and gender identities in a way that makes it not glaring to the viewers. It’s common in series for teens and children with LGBTQ+ representation that they tend to make a coming-out moment a big reveal or something used for dramatic shock factor, only to be praised for their inclusiveness.

Most of that representation is through background characters too, so we don’t get to learn about their personality, with their main characteristic being that they’re “the gay character.” The Owl House doesn’t do this. They treat the characters and their relationships in a way that is natural and realistic, unlike how other shows may display it. They don’t exaggerate their identities—instead, they make the characters feel more human. Two seasons are available on Disney Now.—Sophia Johnson

Sense8

Created by The Matrix filmmakers Lana and Lili Wachowski along with J. Michael Straczynski, the bold and beautifully queer Sense8 was as confounding as it was transfixing, a true explosion of unrestrained creative ideologies. Following a group of eight individuals all over the world who discover they share a psychic link that allows them to feel, see, and experience what the others are going through, the series often stumbles through its own mythology but never loses the complex spark that came from the characters, their friendships, romances, and relationships with one another, often all overlapping.

Soaked in compassion, Sense8 is one of Netflix’s best series to date and one that refused to compromise on its ideas of identity, sexuality, and relationships and the fluidity that often inhabit all three. Sense8 is available on Netflix.—Allyson Johnson

HBO

Betty

Based on the incredible film Skate Kitchen, Crystal Mosselle adapts her film to television for HBO’s Betty, which follows a diverse group of young women as they navigate the predominantly male-oriented world of skateboarding in New York City. With much of the same core cast as the film, the series embraces a Gen Z aesthetic both in the naturalistic dialogue and modern exploration of romantic relationships but also, most notably, in how they depict sexuality and LGBTQ+ relationships. It’s a deceptively breezy show, but under the chill exterior is a show that embraces the very real selfishness and loyalty that comes with young adult relationships. Two seasons are available on HBO Max.—Allyson Johnson

Our Flag Means Death

Having taken the internet by storm, not only is Our Flag Means Death one of the funniest new comedies to come out this year, but it also presents one of the most wholesome relationships—as wholesome as a pair of two murdering pirates can be of course. Rhys Darby and Taika Waititi play Stede Bonnet and Captain Blackbeard (or Ed), the central relationship to the series, and their opposite attract, will they-won’t they dynamic is a breath of fresh air in an era of television that has seen so many series fall victim to the reductionist issue of “Queer baiting.” Created by David Jenkins, Our Flag Means Death fully commits to both their burgeoning romance as well as the multiple queer relationships that inhabit the ship in general. The first season is available on HBO Max.—Allyson Johnson

Please Like Me

While he’s yet to fully break out in more mainstream circles, actor, writer, and creator Josh Thomas has been making a name for himself over the past few years with his honest and hilarious series. The first of which was heartfelt, biting, and compassionate Please Like Me which followed Thomas in the leading role along with his friends as they all fall in and out of love and navigate the ennui of being a mid-twenty-something in today’s world of dating. However, despite the pilot opening with Josh being told he’s gay by the girlfriend who is breaking up with him, the series is less intent on making a point of his sexuality or his coming to terms with it and more simply about his day-to-day life and friendships, along with the men he dates, sometimes to disastrous effect. It’s also a terrific, often heartbreaking, but never exploitative look at mental health. All four seasons are available on Hulu.—Allyson Johnson

Everything’s Gonna Be Okay

Running only two seasons, Everything’s Gonna Be Okay was Josh Thomas’s second series that he wrote and starred in, this time as a brother who’s tasked with raising his two half-sisters after their father passes away. As he’s tasked more with being the mature figure in this series, his one romantic relationship also weathers the commitment that comes with one over time. It might not possess the same spark and energy as Please Like Me but it once again solidifies his voice in LGBTQ+ spaces, his persistence in highlighting inclusive storylines and mental health across all spectrums, and his innate understanding of the pettiest sides of ourselves, much to our discomfort. Both seasons are available on Hulu.—Allyson Johnson

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Dan Goor and Michael Shur have created some of the best sitcoms of the last century and while many will argue over what’s their best (Season 2 of The Good Place gets my vote) Brooklyn Nine-Nine is often fighting for top spot, in large part due to the exceptional cast. Captain Holt (Andre Braugher) was an instant favorite of fans and critics, as the no-nonsense and monotone lead of Brooklyn’s 99th precinct. He also, as established, happens to be gay and in a long-lasting relationship with his husband, Kevin (Marc Evan Jackson).

Their relationship and personalities prove an excellent foil to the sillier Jake Peralta (Andy Samberg) and it’s their relationship along with other fan-favorite Rosa (Stephanie Beatriz) coming out as bisexual that gives an already wonderful procedural comedy an edge as it tackles greater stories of inclusivity with little fanfare. Bisexuality is still not seen as often on television (though particularly with men, and wouldn’t it have been great if the show had gone there with Jake with all the soft bi-coding they gave him) and it was nice to see a well-executed storyline with a bisexual main character and its center (and one that doesn’t meet some sort of terrible fate.) All eight seasons are available on Hulu.—Allyson Johnson

The Legend of Korra

It still feels revolutionary what The Legend of Korra managed to pull off, even if compared to today’s standards of kids broadcasting it doesn’t quite reach the same levels of a show such as say, The Owl House. That said, in 2014 when the finale aired and Korra and Asami walk hand and hand into the spirit world, it felt like a big deal, especially again with the pretty consistent trend of Queer baiting in media. Fans had been sensing something between the two and their relationship for all of Season 4, so to get confirmation of it after watching their relationship bloom across all four seasons from not-quite-friends, to friends, to something more was a beautiful evolution of their characters. 

The Legend of Korra didn’t always contain the same consistent magic and narrative throughline as its predecessor Avatar: The Last Airbender did, but it tackled mature themes with quiet grace and introspection, with their relationship and sexuality only the tip of the iceberg. That this was released through Nickelodeon at all was shocking for the time, with the same-sex relationship between Korra and Asami being unprecedented at the time of airing. All four seasons are available on Netflix.—Allyson Johnson

Adventure Time

With its distinct, bubblegum aesthetic, narrative dream logic and underrated pathos, it’s little surprise that the popular animated series, Adventure Time, would possess such a graceful LGBTQ+ storyline. While there are plenty of colorful characters in the Land of Ooo, Princess Bubblegum and Marceline the Vampire Queen were quick to steal hearts, especially those in search of a queer romance with a happy ending. A romance that was teased throughout much of the series ten seasons, the culmination was sweet, deliberate, and a perfect send off to such treasured characters. Available on Prime Video.—Allyson Johnson

Cruel Summer

Cruel Summer portrayed a queer relationship that grew from an unlikely friendship. Kate and Mallory’s relationship blossomed throughout their season of the anthology show. Their friendship was unexpected, but it didn’t take long for the girls to prove their trust and devotion to each other. This relationship is authentic and feels unplanned, letting the girls fall into place rather than forcing them together through contrived drama. However, probably the most significant aspect of this ship was that the start of their romantic relationship is Kate’s happy ending for the show. As she went through the traumatic experience of being groomed and later kidnapped, not only is it satisfying to see the girl happy and free, but it also serves as an anti-bury-your-gays trope, even if we need a lot more to call it even. The first season is available on Hulu.—Amanda Reimer

The Wilds

The Wilds took a big gamble when it decided to add a group of boys to an already female-centric show. But not only did the show introduce a new gay character into the mix with the boys’ group, but it also still dedicated time to the relationship between Toni and Shelby. The show does a good job at telling different queer stories, from Shelby’s closeted experience in conservative Texas to Ivan, who struggles with anger. The Wilds lets them be happy together and enjoy their relationship for a sizeable portion of the second season. This show successfully explores a variety of LGBTQ stories and with the survival genre The Wilds wedges itself into, it also shows how the stigma and queer experience has the capacity to stay with us, even in the most removed of circumstances. Both seasons are available on Prime Video.—Amanda Reimer

Heartstopper

Google the keywords “Heartstopper Euphoria” and you won’t have to look far for comparisons between the two teen-centric shows that diverge greatly in tone and style. One can hypothesize that the sweet, LGBTQ Netflix series pleasantly surprised (or bored more cynical viewers) audiences with its earnest portrayal of a romance between two boys, and their supporting cast that included a teen lesbian couple and a transgender girl dealing with their own school and love lives.

Hearstopper illuminated the insecurities that can underpin LGBTQ+ youth experiences into a coming-of-age narrative with fluffy animated garnishes of sparks, hearts and lightning bolts that appear when characters feel a surge of affection that pay homage to the original webcomics. Heartstopper is a world that is lovely to visit—one that proves that media with LGBTQ love stories do not need to be relentlessly graphic, crude, or shocking to host conflict in it. The first season is available on Netflix.—Ingrid Allen

Black Mirror, “San Junipero”

The most joyful of Black Mirror episodes and significant for its happy ending for the lesbian couple, “San Junipero” came out in the fall of 2016, during the fraught election between Donald Trump and Hilary Clinton when anxiety about LGBTQ rights being rolled back was at an all-time high in the States. “San Junipero,” like the best of Black Mirror episodes, raised interesting philosophical questions about virtual consciousness and life after death that made double meanings between shy Yorkie (played by Mackenzie Davis) and “bodacious” Kelly (played by a radiant Gugu Mbatha-Raw) clear on a rewatch. Nostalgia for the eighties granted the landmark episode its dazzling color schemes and California vistas to elevate the critically acclaimed love story even further. “San Junipero” is available on Netflix.—Ingrid Allen

Young Royals

Young Royals centers on Prince Wilhelm (Edvin Ryding), the youngest member of the Swedish royal family, who has disgraced the nation after the paparazzi caught him fighting another teen. In retaliation for his behavior, Wilhelm is sent to Hillerska, a prestigious boarding school, to shape up. Wilhelm has little interest in the school and pouts about his punishment—until he meets Simon (Omar Rudberg), a scholarship student at Hillerska, and everything changes. The two begin a clandestine relationship, but nothing stays secret for long: not when backstabbing classmates armed with cameras are lurking everywhere, and certainly not when you’re the heir to the throne. Wilhelm’s desire for a life out of the spotlight, free with Simon, is a powerful and introspective conflict anchoring the show (from TYF’s review by Claire Di Maio). The first season is available on Netflix.

Shameless

Shameless might have a large ensemble of characters but at the end of the day, the show will always be known for accidentally telling an eleven-season-long gay love story. The relationship between Ian (Cameron Monaghan) and Mickey (Noel Fisher) started off rocky, going through many seasons of secrecy, a psychotic homophobic father, and unfortunate weddings. Even when they were openly together, then came Ian’s Bipolar diagnosis. Through the ups-and-downs of their relationship, including joint prison stays, Ian and Mickey always stuck together, no matter how much they bickered. They might have been apart for seasons at a time, but that time apart allowed for necessary character growth. All 11 seasons are available on Netflix.—Katey Stoetzel

HBO Max

Generation

Generation captured the essence of queer Gen Z high schoolers through its clever narrative tricks and earnest exploration of sexual identities. The show also boasts a diverse cast, prominently featuring Black, Brown, and Asian characters, and explores many types of queer identities. With a large ensemble cast, the interconnected stories are at risk of turning as convoluted as those star-studded Valentine and New Years’ movies. But with Daniel Barnz and his Gen Z daughter Zelda Barnz at the writing helm, the way in which our characters come together and grow apart throughout 16 episodes is immaculate narrative storytelling.

As Chester (Justice Smith) tries to get closer with his guidance counselor (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett), Nathan (Uly Schlesinger) falls more in love with Chester while also navigating his experience as a bisexual kid with his parents’ conservative values. Meanwhile, Riley (Chase Sui Wonders) develops a mutual crush on Greta (Haley Sanchez) as Greta struggles with the realization that she’s asexual. There are many more characters to get to know in Generation and plenty of unforgettable scenes that will blow your breath away. From Nathan’s public coming out and subsequent jump off a yacht that acts more as a rebirth than the more ominous takeaway, to Greta’s confession to Riley, and that final shot of Chester, Generation is written by queer people and for queer people. It’s one season is available on HBO Max.—Katey Stoetzel

The Magicians

It’s fair to say this one comes with a bit of a caveat—the ending to Season 4 will forever hold a bitter place in fans’ heart, but at least The Magicians gave us the first three seasons. Not afraid to break out into song or travel to different worlds, The Magicians approached its queer representation with the same nonchalance they did with their musical episodes—they were just gonna do it. The relationship between Quentin (Jason Ralph) and Eliot (Hale Appleman) was more “why aren’t they”? instead of “will they/won’t they.” However, episodes like “A Life in a Day” and “Escape from the Happy Place” solidified their relationship, even if it mainly existed in alternate universes and mind prisons. All five seasons are available on Netflix.—Katey Stoetzel

911: Lone Star

911: Lone Star features many queer characters, notable for a popular network procedural set in the traditionally masculine atmosphere of the firehouse. Brian Michael Smith as firefighter Paul Strickland is the first out Black transgender man in a series regular role on network television. In Season 3, Nancy (Brianna Baker) dropped high-heeled hints about her bisexuality, and fan-favorites Carlos (Rafael L. Silva) and TK (Ronen Rubinstein) got engaged. Though the show has gone through its fair share of angst for all of the characters, Lone Star also manages to find time to let their characters have a bit of fun. The first three seasons are available on Hulu.—Katey Stoetzel

Pose

Set in New York during the 80s and 90s, Pose brought to life the found families that drove ball culture of the time, and was notable for centering Black and Latinx trans characters. Though the series also covers the AIDS epidemic, the show is so full of life and celebration. Michaela Jaé Rodriguez became the first trans actress to be nominated for an Emmy and to win a Golden Globe for her role as Blanca Rodriguez. Though the show ended in 2021, the show’s legacy lives on as one of the first to have trans women play trans women and sets the tone for how trans stories should be told. All three seasons are available on Hulu.—Katey Stoetzel

First Kill

Sure, it’s as campy as a CW show, but Netflix’s First Kill has all the makings of a long-standing stay on the streaming service. The chemistry between Juliette (Sarah Catherine Hook,) a legacy vampire, and Calliope (Imani Lewis,) a monster hunter, is electric and satisfying. Their Romeo-and-Juliette style relationship provides a lot of fundamental angst as two people who should not be together. The show’s CGI budget could use some of that Stranger Things money, but it’s not often we get a lesbian vampire/monster hunter shows, and First Kill is a total blast of camp and supernatural angst. The first season is available on Netflix.—Katey Stoetzel

The post 45 must-see Queer TV streaming right now first appeared on The Young Folks.




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