Classics Revisited: Does 'Queer as Folk' Hold Up in the 'Heartstopper' Era?

The progenitor of gay British TV, Queer as Folk, turned 25 this year. The ten-episode comedy-drama aired in 1999 and remains just as enjoyable now (if not quite as relevant) as it was a quarter century ago. The monumental BBC series (that wound up with an American remake on Showtime) follows the day-to-day life of a group of friends in Manchester as they party on Canal Street, clash with their families, and fall in and out of love.

Written and produced by Russell T. Davies during a time when gay characters on TV were one-off stereotypes at best and dead or nonexistent at worst, Queer as Folk put both gay men and Davies himself in the spotlight. Davies, best known now as showrunner of the revival of Doctor Who, would go on to write prolifically about the lives of gay men in A Very English Scandal, Cucumber, and the landmark historical drama It’s A Sin. Queer as Folk was Davies’s first significant foray into centering gay characters on TV. It was also many gay people’s first time seeing themselves represented on screen.

Queer as Folk is a rollicking good time that takes unbridled joy in being gay. But it’s punctuated by moments of Davies’s signature emotional gravitas that reflect the ongoing AIDS epidemic, pervasive homophobia, and legislated inequality that were unavoidable aspects of gay life. There was no show like it when it aired, and today, there’s no other show that has been enriched by what has come after it. Queer as Folk feels historic in the context of Davies’s work and the enormous legal strides and increase in media representation that the LGBTQ+ community has seen in the past quarter century. 

Almost any critique you could level at Queer as Folk was likely lobbed at it when it aired and is not so different from the (warranted) critiques that many shows about gay men receive today. Queer as Folk features few women and even fewer people of color; it upholds the image of conventionally attractive, masculine gay men striving for society’s idea of success. It drew criticism for going too far by depicting a teenager’s sexual relationship with a man in his twenties and not far enough by seemingly passing over the AIDS epidemic. The elements that stirred controversy when it aired are still challenging to watch, but Queer as Folk isn’t concerned with being a “good” representation, and that’s part of its charm.

The show initially aired as a single season of eight episodes, followed by two (wholly unnecessary but still fun) follow-up installments that aired the following year. In the first episode, we meet Stuart Allen Jones (Aidan Gillen), a callous but handsome advertising executive who seems to have slept with half of Canal Street. Outside a bar, Stuart meets fifteen-year-old Nathan Maloney (Charlie Hunnam), a closeted gay boy who has come to Canal Street to explore his sexuality. The two hook up, and we learn through cheesy but utterly charming to-camera monologues that this is “the one-night stand that never went away.”

Meanwhile, Stuart’s friend Romey (Esther Hall) is having Stuart’s baby, but it’s not what it looks like! Stuart is the surrogate father for Romey and her partner, whose lesbian commune is adjacent to Stuart’s friend group. Stuart’s best friend Vince Tyler (Craig Kelly) implores him to come to the hospital to see the baby, and Stuart shows up with Nathan in tow. Thus, the not-so-happy family of the series is bound together.

The characters are archetypes of gay life by design. Stuart is brash, sometimes cruel, desirable, and well aware of it. Vince is a good-hearted nerd, content to wait in the wings. Nathan is young, naive, and eager to prove himself. According to Davies, the characters represent “three versions of the same man. All of us have been those people at one time or another.” As the episodes unfold, a somewhat lopsided love triangle emerges between Stuart, Nathan, and Vince. Nathan is smitten with Stuart and reveres him as a god. Stuart lets Nathan stoke his ego and keeps him on the back burner. Vince and Stuart have the kind of deep, abiding friendship tinged with sexual tension that outsiders mistake for a romantic relationship, but it isn’t that…or is it? 

Though the first three episodes are lighthearted, the third episode ends with a friend of Vince and Stuart dying of a drug overdose. Suddenly, the viewer isn’t living in Stuart’s world of carefree sexual dalliances and partying, but in the real world where young men aren’t invincible and families are broken. In the harsh light of reality, Stuart looks more than a little pathetic. Nathan, with his head still in the clouds of Canal Street, runs away from home after his mother asks if he’s gay, even though her reaction is pretty decent.

Throughout the show, Nathan struggles to define himself, borrowing traits and one-liners from the angry, sad, and sometimes cruel older men around him. He rejects his supportive mother and fights with his best friend Donna (Carla Henry) because he fears the rejection and retaliation he sees carried out against assumed gay boys at his school. Queer as Folk isn’t the gay Skins or the 1990s Heartstopper by any stretch of the imagination, but its singular gay teenage character resonated with queer teens of its time. Gay men have cited Nathan as the first time they saw gay teenage life realistically depicted, dubious consent and all. 

Nathan becomes a tenant at Vince’s mother Hazel’s (Denise Black) boardinghouse, and though Stuart and Vince’s friendship is on the rocks, they form a tentative alliance to look out for Nathan. Moreover, Vince is dating a new man, and it’s getting serious, so he calls on Stuart for advice. That’s where things start to go off the rails. In short order, Stuart nearly gets smashed to bits by Nathan’s father, throws Vince a birthday party, and (accidentally-on-purpose) trashes their friendship, conspires to end Vince’s relationship, and breaks up his lesbian co-parent’s green card marriage. 

While Stuart is out causing chaos, Vince seemingly happily settles into his relationship with his boyfriend Cameron (Peter O’Brien). But just when it seems Stuart has hit rock bottom, Vince reaches out to repair their friendship through the power of Doctor Who. (Side note: if anyone ever gave me a screen-accurate K-9 and could name all of the Doctors Who for me, they’d get my everlasting love and adoration, too.) Season 1 ends on a beautifully ambiguous note. Nathan runs away to London, Vince breaks it off with Cameron, and Stuart and Vince dance the night away in one of their old Canal Street haunts.

It’s hard to imagine any show with more rewarding references for Doctor Who fans, and it fits between Davies’s youthful Doctor Who fandom and his eventual Doctor Who career like a metatextual matryoshka doll.

But Vince’s love of Doctor Who is more than a running gag. It’s a recurring theme of his personality and how he relates to other characters, no doubt drawn from Davies’s own experience. Most, if not all, episodes have at least one Doctor Who reference (one episode even features scenes from the 1975 story Pyramids of Mars), and two pivotal and emotional moments for Vince’s character arc revolve around Doctor Who. 

After Stuart and Vince make amends, the two follow-up episodes trace the ambiguous nature of their sexually charged friendship. They follow Nathan’s growing confidence as the inheritor of Stuart’s Canal Street legacy. Plenty of shenanigans are had, but in terms of theme and character development, the extra episodes don’t offer much that the first season didn’t have in spades. But who could complain about extra time with the entire cast of flawed but deeply lovable characters.

Queer as Folk might be a shock to the system for the Heartstopper generation. I would know because I’m of the generation squarely between the two, not the target age for either, but resonating with both because there was no equivalent show available to me as a teen. Today we get to pick apart “good representation” and “bad representation,” but in 1999, Queer as Folk was a real representation. Shows like Heartstopper, Sex Education, and even Davies’ own It’s A Sin, are carrying the torch that was boldly and brightly lit by Queer as Folk.

Queer as Folk is streaming on Tubi and the Roku Channel.