Contains spoilers
It’s been a moment since a TV show was almost unavoidable in both media discussions and memeification, but it’s currently impossible to miss “the gay hockey show” aka Heated Rivalry, writer-director-producer Jacob Tierney’s adaptation of Rachel Reid’s Game Changer series of novels.
The novels are part of a niche within a niche in the book world: the sports/hockey romance. But amid all the brightly colored covers now lining bookshop shelves, there is a secret queer readers have known for years. Queer hockey novels have been a joyous niche of their own since well before Reid’s series began and both queer romance readers and hockey fans alike have loved them. Now the rest of the world is discovering that niche and loving it too. So where does that leave both the queer romance reader and/or the queer hockey fan? And what does Heated Rivalry do for queer TV?
The show primarily follows Shane Hollander (Hudson Williams) and Ilya Rozanov (Connor Storrie), the protagonists of Heated Rivalry, the second book in Reid’s series. Meeting before their rookie year in the NHL, Hollander gets drafted to the Montreal Metros, Rozanov to the Boston Raiders (it’s the Montreal Voyaguers and Boston Bears in the books, but perhaps Boston Bears was deemed too on the nose…). Rivals on the ice, their paths continually cross, while off the ice a sexual affair eventually blossoms into a romance. All in secret, all with an edge of, as the title suggests, healthy sporting rivalry right to the end. Interwoven across the series, primarily in episodes three and five, is the story of Scott Hunter (François Arnaud), a veteran player with the New York Admirals, and Kip Grady, a local smoothie shop worker, and their own secret romance (that was the subject of Reid’s first book, Game Changer).
The beating heart of the show is the fine work of the actors cast as Hollander and Rozanov, with Williams and Storrie bringing real sensitivity and appropriate levels of passion to their roles. There is a palpable, deep understanding of the characters they portary, and with the show’s visually striking direction taking the lead in the first episodes, every choreographed moment, every look, is really weighted by their rich character work. Williams adds an additional dimension to Hollander, that’s only hinted at in the books, with the TV series chosing to make the character canonically autistic. It’s a powerful layer to the character, giving real insight into his actions but also emotions, and for queer autistic folks, it reads as an authentic portrayal. Watching an autistic character be allowed to have and show their emotions in their own way, to act as they might act, but also feel as they might feel. What Williams does for queer autistic viewers in the show is one of Heated Rivalry’s real breakthroughs. While Storrie is a true joy to watch as Rozanov for his razor-sharp delivery juxtaposed with his deadpan demeanor. His Rozanov is bluntly charming and I immediately warmed to him despite, or even because of that icy exterior. It makes his emotional breakthroughs and breakdowns all the more powerful to watch.
The first two episodes could be classed as very Queer as Folk (the original British version) in their unapologetic sexual content. Here though, the sex scenes pretty much take up the entire first two episodes, and you could be forgiven for thinking it was a little surface-level. What the beautifully shot but somewhat “empty” sexual content is doing though is setting up the later narrative, as we witness the emotional connection that grows between Shane and Ilya out of that. Does it feel a little imbalanced upon first viewing? Perhaps, or at least without the knowledge of what comes later in the books, viewers could be forgiven for fearing the show would be somewhat one-note. However, when viewed as a whole, the impactful payoff is there. Helping to create this narrative is one of the show’s strongest assets, the visual language employed, especially when, shall we say, conversation is initially rather limited between the protagonists. The direction by Tierney and visuals of the show are a highlight, with gorgeous cinematography by Jackson Parrell.
The first two episodes rely on two things: sex and hockey. It takes a while for the true weight of those to click in the narrative, which makes the strong visual direction even more impactful. Drag your eyes away from the aesthetically pleasing elements of the sexual scenes, or perhaps engage a different brain function if you’re distracted, and you realize the sex is being used as a form of visual storytelling. Parallel of course to the hockey. My only complaint here is that that parallel isn’t brought out as starkly as it might have been.
Anyone who knows hockey knows the physicality, the raw emotion on the ice, and more of a clear parallel with the sex scenes would have truly brought out what the story is telling us about Rozanov and Hollander’s sporting and sexual lives in those early episodes. I’d recommend Shoresy, another Crave show that Tierney directed and acted in, for a series about hockey culture where the games themselves are integral to the storytelling. It’s a minor critique here, but when the setup relies on an understanding of sex and sport as the twin pillars, and the direction is exquisite in its visuals, more on that side would have elevated Heated Rivalry even further. Though admittedly, on a practical level filming hockey is both challenging and expensive.
Queer sex always holds significance on TV. While much will be discussed about the show’s sex scenes (which are really no more risqué than in other hit series such as Bridgerton) queer sex on screen is political in a way that straight sex isn’t, because queer sex has been, and continues to be in many parts of the world, criminalized. Heated Rivalry builds on the legacy of queer shows that came before, from early favorites like Tales of the City and Queer as Folk to more recent ones like Looking and Fellow Travelers. Queer sex on screen and queer stories form a legacy project, of which this is the latest chapter.
What is also revealing is Heated Rivalry’s appeal to queer female viewers. That the show resonates with queer women, and even some ace and aro viewers, indicates that the sex not only acts as a narrative device, but most importantly, it is sex that is presented outside the straight male gaze. This is also clearly why straight women enjoy the show because, like their queer counterparts, they appreciate seeing sex that is removed from the straight male perspective, with all that entails. Although the broader absence of overt misogyny in the hockey community might be a storytelling issue, the lack of misogyny in the relationships depicted are a breath of fresh air for everyone.
Queer sex will always be part of the narrative of queer stories, whether we choose to show it on screen or not, and Heated Rivarly boldly chooses to embrace the sexuality of its source material. In doing so, it unavoidably uses that sex on screen to make a statement. But the statements the show makes aren’t only about the sex. That becomes particularly apparent with the Scott Hunter storyline. Hunter’s narrative takes over episode three, and we also truly see, for the first time in the series, the larger stakes of being a closeted hockey player. We get to see the romance of him falling for Kip, with the most charming of meet-cutes, in a smoothie shop. Their joyful, flirtatious beginnings serve as the antithesis of Shane and Illy’s encounters, who at that point are in a purely physical relationship off the ice and a biting “I hate you because I can’t love you” relationship on the ice. Perfect romantic dramedy stakes. With Scott’s storyline we see the struggle on the other side of what we assume Shane and Ilya are heading towards. It is a beautiful and at times painful look at the high stakes of being a closeted athlete. The moment that Hunter runs out of the art gallery, afraid he might be recognized and outed, to the loneliness of both him and Kip not being able to be together is heartbreaking.
The moment that Hunter reveals he has clocked Shane and Ilya is a powerful one, that could have been taken even further. That is also the case for most of Hunter’s story, which is where the narrative really finds its heart. It seems fair to say it’s a storyline that deserved more episode time. On one hand, devoting an entire episode to his and Kip’s story is great, and for fans of the book series, a welcome surprise that they perhaps didn’t think they would get with the focus being on Shane and Ilya’s romance. Narratively though, an interweaving of their stories—or giving Scott and Kip their own series first—might ultimately have served the world of the series better. Also, looking at the show’s activism, which Scott Hunter’s narrative is at the heart of, it could have been even more potently impactful if viewers had had the chance to sit with his story and character for longer.
What we do get are the two most powerful statements from the show via Hunter’s storyline. The moment the show uses its activist voice most loudly. We see him reunite with Kip, kissing him on the ice after his team’s cup win. It’s a joyous moment, one of happy endings and hope. It’s the moment of unfiltered bliss that is the stuff of our favorite romcoms, but made particularly powerful as a queer story against the background of a sport that, as yet, doesn’t welcome its 2SLGBTQIA+ athletes as it should. An episode later, we also get Hunter’s speech to the hockey world, a moment when the show engages with real-world politics (as it also does with the references to Ilya’s home country of Russia), and it is in the hope inherent in this poignant scene that the show’s activism really lies. Because we are sadly so far from seeing a real-life Scott Hunter give such a speech, and while it isn’t likely to change a homophobe’s mind on its own, it might fill queer folks with optimism that one day something like what unfurls on screen will be possible, even if it isn’t right now.
As a queer hockey fan, Heated Rivalry sits in a difficult space. As a queer hockey fan who loves (and writes about) queer TV, it’s a joyous, lovely space to celebrate queer stories. Witnessing others outside our community celebrate queer stories, be invested in them and love queer characters is a wonderful thing. But alongside that, for queer hockey fans, there is the uncomfortable reality that our sport—however much we may love it—does not love us back in the same way. Scott Hunter kissing Kip on the ice in episode five, sadly, will not mean that happens for real in the sport anytime soon. It’s OK to sit with that uncomfortable reality, to acknowledge the show is a romance novel adapted for TV and that romance novels are a fantasy, not reality. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t build activism out of that fantasy. TV is a route for change. Visibility, even via a fictional TV show, can have a positive and lasting effect. You can’t be what you can’t see, and if the real sport can’t, or isn’t willing to give it yet, then what this fictionial world, and the people behind creating, do in its place is important.
François Arnaud and the rest of the show’s cast willingness to engage with conversations about the reality of coming out in hockey in press interviews is also a force for good. An even bigger force for good would be if queer folks and allies who love the show were to become hockey fans and stand alongside the 2SLGBTQIA+ folks who have been working for years to enact change in the sport. If just a handful of the queer fans stay, if they join rec teams, or their kids join junior teams…well, that’s the future of hockey that I’d like to see. What if queer fans create more queer hockey teams? What if we all start taking up space and demanding further change? What if straight men who like the show use their power for change? The show in itself can’t change hockey culture, but the people who watch it can and queer TV can be a step to making meaningful real-world changes. That is how the show becomes part of the change we need in hockey culture. As a queer hockey fan, that is the part of Heated Rivalry’s impact that gives me hope. That people will not only join the sport because of it, but also take up space, and push for change.
Whenever something is such a cultural moment, there is both a sense of celebration and also trepidation for anyone with a stake (stick?) in the game. When anything is so universally praised, a healthy hesitation or skepticism is provoked. So is Heated Rivalry good for queer hockey fans? And is it good queer TV?
Yes and yes, absolutely. Any show that celebrates, embraces queerness, and unapologetically shows it on screen, especially in the times we live in, is important. A TV show capturing such attention is rare, and rarer still with queer TV. Perhaps the last time a comparative cultural moment happened with a queer show was Schitts Creek (read my reflections on that here) and while both are proudly Canadian, they are so different in their approaches, which in itself is a hugely positive step in the diversity of queer television. But one thing they do have in common? Happy endings.
Seeing Shane and Ilya drive off into the sunset (literally), about to see if they can make it work. The hope of it all, that’s the activism of queer stories. While it might clash with the reality in the sport that forms the backdrop of their romance, a happy ending on screen is something the community still desires and needs.
What now away from enjoying the TV show? Well, maybe it’s discovering those other queer hockey romance novels. Maybe it’s finding a love of the sport, and finding with it the quiet but mighty array of queer hockey fans out there and being part of the reason that one day the fantasy of the hockey romance section of the bookshop, or everyone’s new favorite TV show, becomes a reality.
By Emily Garside
All episodes of Heated Rivalry are now streaming in the US and Australia on HBO Max, in Canada on Crave, and in the UK and Ireland on Sky and Now.
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