Note: This review contains mild spoilers for Heartstopper season two.
It was nearly impossible not to grin your way through the first season of Heartstopper. The Netflix series, which follows the budding relationship between awkward high schooler Charlie Spring (Joe Locke) and popular jock Nick Nelson (Kit Connor), was warm and wholesome without ever sliding too deep into the saccharine. The boy-meets-boy romance, adapted from Alice Oseman’s graphic novel of the same name, presented an almost idyllic vision of the possibilities of the young queer experience, establishing a world where a rugby captain can be a sweet goofball who falls in love with a bullied outcast, all while coming to terms with his bisexuality. At times, it seemed like pure fantasy. But Heartstopper wore its heart on its sleeve. The human emotions at its centre always felt real.
The show will focus on “mental health issues faced by British teenagers”.
In its even more impressive second outing, the series refuses to sacrifice any of its trademark earnestness while managing to find new wrinkles in the texture of its narrative fabric. The eight-episode season includes a gorgeous trip to Paris (where, naturally, love is in the air), a queer art exhibition, and an inclusive prom. But it also taps into darker stories of bullying, depression, eating disorders, and estranged family ties.
As expected, Heartstopper uses its sophomore run to expand its world. While much of the show still orbits around Nick and Charlie, Oseman, who also created the adaptation, wisely embraces the wider cast. The focus on the ups and downs of teen romance remains, but with the series now resembling something closer to a true ensemble, Heartstopper can explore these dynamics through a multitude of perspectives, making for a richer story as a whole.
As the only queer couple living out and proud, Tara (Corinna Brown) and Darcy (Kizzy Edgell) are the envy of Charlie, who wishes he and Nick could show affection in a similar public manner. But privately, the couple is also navigating their own issues, like Tara’s growing frustration with Darcy’s tendency to strategically maneuver around difficult conversations. Tao (William Gao), just as overprotective of his friends as he was last season, gets a few more registers to play with as he slowly processes his more-than-platonic feelings for Elle (Yasmin Finney) — all while Elle, who identified her own crush on Tao much earlier than he did, silently contends with her complicated feelings about possibly having to leave her friend group in order to attend an art school, where she has already made new trans friends.
As for Charlie and Nick, season two picks up right where season one left off, with both lovebirds (now officially “boyfriends”) basking in the sparkly glow that typically shines on new relationships, whether they are giddily exchanging texts back and forth or slipping in and out of empty rooms to steal kisses between classes. Heartstopper has always excelled at depicting that brand of limitless joie de vivre, and Locke and Connor continue to exhibit unmistakable chemistry as they forge a palpable connection that pulses through the television, much like the playfully childlike animations that fill the screen during moments of deep feeling.
‘It’s not comfortable to be queer. You can’t just be yourself the whole time’
Of course, such unencumbered bliss can only be enjoyed for so long. If season one hinged on Nick’s gradual acceptance of his bisexuality, season two reorients focus toward his coming out journey. Much continues to be debated about the need for (and relevance of) queer stories about trauma, bullying, and closets, and while Heartstopper doesn’t sidestep these subjects, its approach does allow for new avenues of exploration, breathing new life into tired tropes. Like any jock would, Nick struggles with the idea of going public with a queer relationship. But the character has always been defined by the juxtaposition between his buffed-up exterior and his pillowy soft interior. It is endearing to watch as he gradually musters up the nerve to disclose his bisexuality to the people closest to him, not because he wants to for himself but rather because he wants to give Charlie a shot at experiencing a real relationship outside the shadows. Whether standing up for Charlie to his homophobic brother or insisting that his boyfriend tag along to a meet-up with his slightly estranged father, Nick’s genuineness makes him an infinitely compelling protagonist, and his story stands out as a result.
But perhaps most interestingly, Heartstopper challenges the very act of “coming out” itself. As Nick settles into his relationship — posting pictures of Charlie on his Instagram, inviting him over for dinner, accepting Charlie’s friend group as his own — the series highlights the tensions inherent in disclosure. For Nick, the act of coming out (trying to explain himself to people who may not care either way, for better or for worse) feels more scary than being out. As Charlie tells Nick in the season’s final episode, “We’ve been so obsessed with the idea of ‘coming out,’ it’s like we’re forgetting why we wanted to do it in the first place.”
With some slight alterations, that line could have just as easily been spoken by Olivia Colman’s Sarah. As Nick’s supportive mother, the Oscar winner brings a loving depth to the screen that helps to shade in Nick’s own sensitive and caring nature. Mr. Ajayi’s (Fisayo Akinade) role has also expanded. After mostly serving as a sounding board for Charlie in season one, the patient art teacher is given his own slowburn love story with a fellow teacher, the tough-as-nails Mr. Farouk (Nima Taleghani). While Heartstopper still feels strongest when focusing on the unique ways teenagers navigate their love lives, the relationship between these two faculty members presents a nice counterpoint, showing the ways our adolescent experiences can reverberate all the way into adulthood.
Of course, not everything can be perfect. I remain iffy on a subplot about Charlie’s anxiety-related eating disorder, which is given too much space for something that feels so narratively underbaked. Ditto for the continued sidelining of voracious reader Isaac (Tobie Donovan). Though his status as the quiet, bookish member of Charlie’s friend group naturally relegated him to the background, his occasional bon mots were among the show’s funniest. Season two gives him much more to do, as he establishes a flirty connection with another similarly bookish student, but the story frustratingly lags in addressing what becomes immediately clear to the viewer: he’s asexual. Still, the fact that Heartstopper — a show that has already explored homosexuality, bisexuality, and trans identity — can find any room for even more queer exploration, without ever feeling like it’s forcefully ticking a box, is impressive on its own.
Besides, the feel-good series has already been confirmed for a third run, where both Isaac’s budding asexuality and Charlie’s eating disorder seem poised to take center-stage. It’s hard to find fault with such a proudly queer show, especially right now, during a time when the very existence of LGBTQ+ individuals is under constant attack. Heartstopper, with its insistence on highlighting queer joy above all else, feels particularly resonant. It’s a sugary sweet salve for the soul.
Season two of Heartstopper is now streaming on Netflix.
This article originally appeared on Them.
