In Season Three, Heartstopper Takes the Plunge

Television’s kissiest show gets even kissier in its third season. Queer teen romance Heartstopper returns to Netflix on October 3, further advancing the burgeoning narrative of Charlie (Joe Locke) and Nick (Kit Connor), a teen couple living in suburban England. After the stops and starts of seasons one and two, the boys are now out, loud, and mostly proud—while nonetheless contending with various crises.

Charlie is the most obviously afflicted this season, confronting eating and obsessive behavior disorders, much to the concern of Nick and their menagerie of queer besties. As ever, writer Alice Oseman (who created the graphic novel on which the show is based) handles hard matters with instructive sensitivity; Heartstopper is half issues drama, half PSA. In its intense interest in mental health and identity (particularly with regards to gender and sexuality), the show is probably the most vivid manifestation of mid-2010s Tumblr culture we’ve yet seen on television. It’s both compelling and cloying.

One does yearn, at times, for these young characters to be a little less sure-footed when tending to their friends’ various hangups and conditions. Everyone is so terribly kind and earnest and solicitous; when Heartstopper is consumed in binge-level quantities, all that tenderness begins to grate. Sure, if these kids were way dumber and meaner, it would cease to be Heartstopper. But maybe the series could endure even a small amount of added friction, some error that is not rectified by the end of each episode. As is, Heartstopper comes across a bit smarmy, with a prim moral superiority that undermines its good intentions.

Teenage life is often messy, but Heartstopper references messiness without really inviting it in. Charlie’s problems are real, and yet his struggle to work through them is depicted in a gauzy rush. Elsewhere, arguments or tensions that arise between the show’s couples—which also include Tao (William Gao) & Elle (Yasmin Finney) and Tara (Corinna Brown) & Darcy (Kizzy Edgell)—are typically resolved with one heartfelt conversation and some kissing. Heartstopper is hopelessly addicted to good feelings—a part of its charm, certainly, but also a hindrance to dynamic storytelling.

But honestly, who really cares about that? We’re here for the romance! And season three delivers on that front, as Charlie and Nick face two significant relationship milestones. While it’s clear that Charlie and Nick are, in their feverish teenage way, wildly in love with one another, they have not yet said those words out loud. Charlie’s indecision about whether to take that leap will be sweetly familiar to anyone who once worried themselves that uttering that particular sentiment would land with a thud. Oseman’s steady buildup does its job. When the big moment arrives, one would have to be some kind of hardhearted automaton to not feel flutters, of either nostalgia or anticipation.

The couple’s other milestone is approached with slightly less giddy abandon. Both guys are nervous about sex, Charlie due to insecurities about his body and Nick because he is still, in some ways, coming to terms with his bisexuality. This is not enough to stop them from making out constantly, but they’ve gone no further than that. It’s maybe not entirely credible that these boys would have waited so long, but if nothing else, Heartstopper likes to take its time. Which in some ways proves an asset: in all of Charlie and Nick’s debating and uncertainty, season three is able to show its younger audience that patience and sometimes uncomfortable discussion might be the optimal path to an experience that is mutually safe and fulfilling.

So, big things do happen in this chapter of the story, rendered with such lively warmth and chemistry by Locke and Connor. But Heartstopper’s third season also does a fair bit of wheel-spinning. Its eight episodes flit by on their way to a finale that leaves a question mark hanging in the air. While Charlie and Nick have certainly deepened their bond, that doesn’t feel like quite enough progress for a season of television.

The next season, if there is one, at least promises to be more consequential: university looms for Nick, and he is already torn about pursuing his dream school or staying local with Charlie. Nick’s fear is expressed sharply, and sadly, in one episode, as he explains his fear that he won’t ever be able to talk to anyone like he does with Charlie. It is easy to imagine that this could be true for a real-life boy like Nick, an affable jock who has suddenly had his heart and mind opened to the power of emotional honesty—to sincere and meaningful connection. Could he ever find this again, somewhere else?

That worry is wholly understandable, and it’s one I hope is further explored in season four. The trouble is, the likely end of this narrative is, well, a heartbreaker, which is not exactly territory that Oseman has seemed willing to traverse thus far. The question now is how long Heartstopper can maintain its dreamy spell, which has begun to feel like stasis.