An Introduction to HBO’s, Looking

First and foremost, HBO’s Looking, is very much aware of the popularity and acceptance of gay characters within mainstream American television. Depicting the lives and love interests of three gay men drifting their way through San Francisco, the opening moments follow the protagonist, Patrick (Jonathan Groff), nervously roaming through the bushes. A sudden stop and a meeting of eyes, we discover he is in-fact hooking up with another chap on a gay cruising ground. Belt buckles swiftly undone and the question of a name ignored, whatever thrill-in-the-chase that was associated with this hand-job is completely killed off once an abrupt phone call prompts Patrick to bail out. That and the fact that he wasn’t even enjoying it anyway (cold hands!).

Evidently harking back towards the more provocative and up-front representations of gay sexuality within the likes of Queer as Folk and Tales of the City, the opening moments of Looking would have you believe the series to be a just another typical story that attempts to embrace and update what being gay means. However, dropping in on conversations between Patrick and his two friends, Dom (Murray Bartlett) and Augustine (Frankie J. Álvarez), its focus actually takes a different direction. Discussing the short-lived fumble, Patrick admits to leaving the scene out of fear that his mother was calling, presuming he was ‘one of those gays who hooks up with people in the park.’ Later, it also seems that the frustration at working within the straight-male dominated world of computer game design, combined with the dissatisfaction at experiencing one short-term relationship, has started to actively trouble Patrick. In still adhering to what he thinks a gay man should be, muddled against the accomplishments of those around him, Patrick’s idea of emotional fulfilment has been warped. The series writers, Michael Lannan and Andrew Haigh, use this idea to create a striking conflict with their main character. With such tension on the surface, Patrick’s motivations and desires for seeking stability within his life suddenly adds an enigmatic depth to him, preventing him merely being passed off as a type. Although being gay is an important attribute to Patrick and his friends, Looking would rather move it down the itinerary of what it’s pre-occupied with, focussing more towards how these characters individually attempt (or even struggle) to achieve their own idea of satisfaction within their lives.

What ultimately gives these characters a convincing edge comes down to the relaxed pacing of the programme. Shot with a hand-held camera, the framing and longer takes implies the audience as a voyeur, eavesdropping on conversations. The thoughtful and observant writing allows dialogue to feel improvised, providing distinctly subtle characteristic shadings between the three leads. As the opening episodes unfold, the individual desires and anxieties these characters posses may feel specific and focussed purely on their own experiences, but beyond that they have a universal appeal. Jonathan Groff is confident in his role of the 29 year old Patrick, providing his character with charisma and likeable wit. Still, being stuck within this idea of a dominant culture that promotes the ease of ‘hooking-up’ online, alongside the assumption of having to settle down by your late 20s, it puts Patrick’s desires to be seen as a thoughtful and warm person at odds. Scrolling through dating website profiles, picking and choosing who he thinks is a good match purely based on Instagram filtered photographs, his approach to dating puts him in various mental conundrums. Wondering if there’s any point in finding emotional contact with somebody he wants to have sex with first, his first dates unsurprisingly end up a flop. On top of that, he does come across as snobbish when seeking out human connection. In keeping the company of those who are, or were, in long-term relationships, Patrick can’t help but see commitment as the platform in which everything else about him will be measured against by others. Gratification through how others perceive you provides Patrick with a basic idea of what he wants in life, but whether or not it’s best for him remains dubious. Perhaps there is truth in what Dom explains to him after a disastrous date with a pompous doctor; ‘maybe you should stop giving a shit of what your Mom thinks…actually stop giving a shit about what anyone thinks’.

Though, this is not to say that his close friends are the best examples for Patrick to emulate. Still working as a waiter, and on the cusp of reaching 40, Dom finds comfort in acting upon sexual urges with the younger generation, purely for self-assurance over the dread that he may no longer be appealing because of his age. Still holding distain towards commitment after a torturous break-up that left him both heart broken and penniless, he’s trying to build himself back up through a restaurant business plan. With a semi-professional partnership with fifty-something Lynn (Scott Bakula), they are certainly characterised by nostalgia. Conversing over the generational gap of sexual promiscuity and the changed perception of San Francisco, it’s almost as if their youth were the good ol’ days. Yet, does that necessarily make their experiences any better? Augustine, moreover, is in the middle of a serious long-term relationship. The most overshadowed character of the series, he’s anxious about leaving the city to move in with his boyfriend, fearing that committing to settling down will deem him seriously uncool. A scene where he and his boyfriend have a cuddle session on the sofa, considering whether or not they should go out, may tap into the fears couples face about cutting themselves off to socialising, but they overcome this by engaging in threesomes. Being an out of work artist, Augustine looks over the complications this could spur, by passing it off as either a way of gaining artistic inspiration, or broadening their sexual fervour, which seems, to him, the only logical route to follow.

Although the topic of sex seems to drive a lot of the character’s conversations and motivations, the approach the series actually takes to the topic is one which doesn’t seek to provide liberation or titillation. Unlike the portrayal of going to bars and nightclubs, which is seen as a somewhat mandatory way of showing you’re not dead or dying, sex is just part of the experience of living every day. Brief and filmed without grace, it allows these characters to develop, discover and discuss certain attributes about themselves and others, regardless if they find the outcome rewarding or not. By encouraging you to follow the development and neuroses of these three men first, their sex lives and relationships don’t fall into the danger of feeling forced or crass. Instead, it tosses aside the sense of wish-fulfilment behind having centralised gay characters, creating a casually carefree and unassuming nature that obliterates any expectations of an audience divide. The fact that the series doesn’t want – or even have – to get caught up with the idea of making a progressive portrayal of gay identities (which can be seen as progress within itself), it seamlessly places it within an honest and believable contemporary narrative framework. Although the journey through one of America’s ‘hippest’ cities may come off as unremarkable at first, you’ll find there’s plenty to talk about along the ride.

David Darley