The Lovers

From my favorite opening scene, throughout the seven episodes, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen. I tried to fold laundry like I usually do watching television, but every scene was so visually rich, I didn't want to miss any of it. I was surprised again and again at the way the creator used everyday intimacies to tell a new story about people whose lives I know so little about - sex workers. Set during the pandemic, it was very moving to remember some of the pains and very real struggles of that time that have been so easily brushed off as we have returned to "normal life." Also loved the way the story weaved past and present and honored each of the characters unique perspectives. I hope to see more from this director/creator!

Daviel Shy's The Lovers is a slow-burning, visually poetic meditation on queer intimacy, longing, and the stories we tell with our bodies. Gorgeously shot with a painter's eye for texture and movement, the film unfolds like a dream-delicate, sensual, and steeped in an emotional undercurrent that lingers long after the credits roll. In a world that often demands queer stories to be palatable or instructive, Daviel Shy offers us something richer: a love letter to queer ambiguity, sensuality, and self-determined expression. The Lovers is both a visual feast and a radical act of intimacy. It doesn't just show love-it lets us feel it.

The storyline and characters were enticing (and funny and interesting) but I was most blown away by how beautiful the series is- just gorgeous visuals that make you FEEL. I watched the first three episodes in one night and stopped so I could start over with my partner. Love to see queer people, desire, and sex represented in a real and dynamic way. Hope to see more like it.

This series is a gem with characters we so rarely get to see displayed on screen. One that honors and loves its cast of characters - always allowing them to be fully embodied and authentic. Daviel Shy - creator, director, star - has brought us a nuanced vision of psychic and embodied celebration and pain, and a work of art that is gorgeously shot, sometimes gauzy and sometimes stark. And there are bodies - coupling, parting, communicating erotically in unusual ways because of Covid, the era when the series takes place. The "Covidist" foregrounded presence adds a layer of complication and, while it limits movement, it also allows for expansive thinking about how to touch and be touched.

I was blown away by this series. It was so beautifully shot and so radical. If Luis Bunuel and Lizzie Borden had a baby, this would be it. It's really fresh and radical, funny and tender and, especially now, when the industry is homogenizing once again, we need independent film and TV like this. I can't wait for more form this filmmaker.