I can understand how parts of Byron's experience may feel foreign to some viewers, but for anyone who came of age gay, trans, or queer around the turn of the millennium, this is a profound and often heartbreaking ride through our collective memory.
I saw myself in the gifted young gay boy who learned to wield wit as both armor and weapon, keeping me safe, pushing others away, and occasionally landing me in trouble. I was lucky enough to be more of a nerd, excelling in school early on and spared some of Byron's pain. But later in life, I too discovered how seductive the gay party scene can become.
So many of us have lived those questionable love affairs, those dizzying moments of clarity ("this is definitely not the room I want to be in") and yet also the euphoria of finding your people. A place where your femininity can finally exhale. Where a sharp tongue and a willingness to say yes to chaos feels like a skeleton key to every door.
The acting here is sublime: heart-wrenching and exquisitely funny. The settings are often bleak, rundown, almost depressing, yet pulsing with life. The glamour exists only in their heads, their hearts, and the chemical-fueled escapes from reality. The director and creative team captured every nuance.
I created an account just to write this review. I was that moved.
The only bad thing is that it's over in eight episodes.
