TV review
This McCarthy-era romance between two men uses explicit sex to push boundaries—and add depth to their relationship
Sat Oct 28, 2023 05:00 BST
Shiny new drama Fellow Travelers ticks all the boxes of prestige television. Glossy production values, multiple schedules, a combination of rousing score and expensive pinpricks – it’s almost a by-the-numbers appointment, carefully ticking boxes that we’ve seen to the point of exhaustion over the last two decades. But in the first 10 minutes of the opening episode, we also see something significantly less familiar, if not absent, even from the vast sea of streaming TV: explicit gay sex.
It’s surprising to find it outside of more niche queer content, but especially in a show whose attitude and politics are otherwise rather too polite – a Sunday night romance designed to appeal to a straight, mom-and-pop audience. The sex scenes are both stunningly graphic and crucial to the plot, a convincing response to the Puritans’ recent argument that watching actors simulate sex is not only morally dubious but unnecessary. Across eight episodes spanning nearly 40 years, sex gives a tragic love affair some much-needed texture and is the most intriguing transgressive element in a series that could have benefited from taking a few more risks.
Based on the 2007 novel by Thomas Mallon, Fellow Travelers is a story of fictional characters making their way through real events, beginning in the early ’50s and ending in the late ’80s, from Washington DC to Fire Iceland to San Francisco. Hawk (Matt Bomer) and Tim (Jonathan Bailey) clash on opposite sides of the political divide as McCarthyism consumes the world around them and pits paranoid colleagues against one another. After an unspoken initial attraction, their dangerous flirtation turns into an illicit rendezvous at a time when McCarthy and his cronies were pairing communists with so-called deviants – a witch hunt that pushes them further into obscurity.
The narrative alternates between her early, heady days and the pain of the future, as Tim dies of AIDS and Hawk tries to maintain a marriage to a forced childhood sweetheart (an underused Allison Williams). It’s a challenge for even the most dedicated actor and most talented makeup artist to convincingly portray the same character over many decades, and one of the show’s craziest touches is the good-looking actors who are given neck wrinkles and the odd mole. But the sight of poor thirtysomethings and fortysomethings in their fake sixties dealing with deeply important issues gets to the heart of the show’s dissonance – a political drama based on a real, difficult story, but with the broad brushstrokes of a soap opera is told. Once the viewer has accepted this tone, there are pleasures to be had here, far more so than in last year’s vile adaptation of the ’50s gay romance My Policeman, which also featured some members of the same team, including the Oscar winner. Nominated Philadelphia writer Ron Nyswaner and producer Robbie Rogers.
Fellow Travelers is a much more successful attempt to tell an equally impossible love story behind closed doors. It’s lushly lit and at times breathtakingly cinematic, with the kind of lavishly crafted historical recreation usually reserved for the big screen and the all-encompassing romance usually reserved for straight-up stories. However, it only works partially, as the soapy consistency robs some crucial moments of their power. The dialogue can be inelegant and the couple’s on-and-off romance goes from dull to confusing as the timeline becomes unclear in the final episodes. But there’s a standout performance from Bomer, a comically handsome leading man who would have been a household name by now if he hadn’t been openly queer in real life. He can’t quite keep up with the slightly less confident Bailey, although the two have an easy, sexy chemistry, both with and without clothes.
The sex between the two is the most interesting and unexpected ingredient here; Nyswaner understands how vitally important their private moments are in a world where they cannot be themselves in public. There’s a dominant/sub power dynamic that is explored without needing to smooth out its edges for a wider audience, and is deftly maintained even as its feelings deepen. This is a show that recognizes that kinky sex can go hand in hand with intoxicating romance. The latest example of a growing series of series and films attempting to bring gay love from the outskirts into the spotlight, it’s one of the less sanitized examples. There’s also a less explicit but often more moving relationship between Noah J. Ricketts’ drag-wearing performer and Jelani Alladin’s journalist battling homophobia and racism; A scene between the two makes for one of the biggest cringeworthy moments.
With eight hour-long episodes attempting to retell events spanning three decades, Fellow Travelers is both overstuffed and understated, and its admirable historical scope often leaves little room for the characters to breathe. You’ll be with them until the end of the trip, but you’ll wish they’d take fewer detours.
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