The show follows two hockey players, captains for rival pro teams, over the course of many years as they secretly pursue a sexual relationship. They remain unable or unwilling to express their feelings to each other through all manner of ups and downs: championship wins, public relationships with other people, setbacks, family drama, and more.
Heated Rivalry has the rote qualities of a Hallmark holiday movie. (The fact that these two play hockey matters about as much as a Hallmark heroine's "big city" job.) But the "will they/won't they" balance tips heavily toward "they will": the show is very Not Safe For Hallmark. If actual porn is a 10 out of 10, Heated Rivalry is pretty much a 9 -- everything but. (Or "everything butt." Ha!)
And yet, for this being such a simple formula, I have surprisingly complicated thoughts about the show. First, something I don't really care for: I've grown weary of "coming out" stories in LGBT+ entertainment. Well... specifically, I'm feeling done with romance stories where the major obstacle to the relationship is the closet. To give a contrasting recent example, I really enjoyed Boots -- a story where the main character being gay and hiding his identity is absolutely central to story, but it's not set up as thing standing between him and happiness.
Yet on the other hand, I'm certainly not saying that there's no added value in more coming out stories. In real life, despite any similarities, no two such stories are really exactly the same. And I must admit that some of Heated Rivalry's best dramatic moments come late in the season (in the last two episodes), when the coming out elements really take the stage. The finale in particular is just a sweet story and a solid episode of television.
But then... it's laughable to pretend that telling an emotional coming out story is foremost on Heated Rivalry's agenda. No, clearly the #1 line item is to titillate. (That's also the #2 item, #3, #4....) There's nothing wrong with that. However, I feel like sitting squarely at the intersection of titillation and "Hallmark-style plotting" is a very specific audience: straight women.
I really try to embrace the notion that not all entertainment is meant "for me." (Nor should it be.) But Heated Rivalry really challenges me in this. It's a show about gay men who also happen to play hockey -- the only professional sport I really take any interest in. That sure feels like it should be "for me." But when I watch it, I often feel like I'm watching a show for straight women who want to see two guys smash. (And possibly their reluctant husbands who might be roped into watching.)
But I feel like I have to take into consideration: it's gotta be a good thing for a story centered on LGBT characters to land so big in the pop culture zeitgeist. In the whole "two steps forward, one step back" march of social progress, we're very much in a "one step back" moment right now. If Heated Rivalry is the unexpected way to take a step forward again? Great! Word is the show has the actual NHL (which has definitely taken "one step back" in supporting LGBT players and fans in the last couple of years) suddenly scrambling to capture this surprising new audience that has taken interest in the sport.
To be real here, it's not like these thoughts were actually swimming through my head while I was watching an episode of Heated Rivalry. I was not immune to its intended effect, peddling the undeniable chemistry between its stars, Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie. In particular, Storrie really revealed himself to be a talented actor, able to convey deep feelings while nimbly handling a credible Russian accent.
Yet how do I reconcile all that into a letter grade, as I usually give at the end of these reviews? I'm not sure. Today, it feels like maybe a B? I feel I could easy balance out the "math" to a different answer on another day. If you want to see two guy smash (and not on the hockey rink nearly as much as you might think), maybe Heated Rivalry is for you.
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