Two years ago, Richard Gadd arrived with Baby Reindeer and delivered one of the rawest television experiences in recent memory.
That creates expectations, fair or not.
So coming into Half Man, I expected intensity, discomfort, and emotional excavation.
The season premiere has all of that. What I didn’t expect was to come away unsure of exactly what the show wants me to hold on to.
That uncertainty is the story of this first hour.
Half Man Season 1 Episode 1, “Pilot,” throws us into the lives of Ruben and Niall and immediately creates instability around them.
Their dynamic carries tension from the start, and the show mines that tension well. There is menace in it, attraction in it, dependence in it, cruelty in it.
It’s the MMA-level punching that welcomes you within the first several minutes, or the sexual undertones that are unsettling but invite curiosity.
That messiness and rawness are part of what makes the episode compelling and also slippery.
So much of the hour rests on the refusal to pick a lane and stick to it. Victim and aggressor blur, and so do brotherhood and desire, or protection and domination.
The show seems deeply interested in what happens when those boundaries are too thin to differentiate.
It’s a fascinating place to begin.
However, it is also a risky one because the episode withholds so much that this ambiguity starts to draw attention to itself.
I don’t expect immediate answers from a show, much less an HBO show, but I also need to know what I’m watching and why.
The relationship between Ruben and Niall is clearly the engine of the series, yet the pilot keeps it so undefined that I found myself spending more time trying to understand the terms and history of the relationship than engaging its emotional consequences.
That may be deliberate. It may be the point.
Ambiguity is fine, but it still has to point somewhere, and I’m not convinced the pilot gets there.
The same tension runs through the show’s treatment of masculinity and sexuality.
Gadd has explored those ideas before, and you can feel those concerns all over this material. Niall’s vulnerability, Ruben’s volatility, the way desire and violence seem to occupy the same emotional terrain — there is a lot happening underneath the surface.
Sometimes that feels intoxicating; sometimes it feels disorienting.
The hour keeps inviting difficult interpretations, which can make us miss the point.
And maybe that is intentional. Maybe the series wants the viewer to be disoriented.
But by the end, I wasn’t wrestling with difficult truths so much as wrestling with whether the show had given me enough to begin interpreting them.
That is a different kind of uncertainty.
What kept me invested, more than anything, was the performances.
Gadd commits fully, and whatever reservations I have about creators casting themselves in their own work, he earns the trust here. Ruben carries volatility that feels dangerous even in stillness.
But the true stars of the hour are the younger actors who knock it out of the park without feeling like they’re trying.
Stuart Campbell’s portrayal of teen Ruben differs from Gadd’s because, even when Ruben is an absolute menace, there is a softness to latch onto.
Gadd’s Ruben, on the other hand, is a beast that instills fear simply by existing. It’s an interesting development that teases some major turns in upcoming episodes.
Ironically, Niall doesn’t seem to change. He might be more assertive as an adult, but it feels half-assed. Why becomes the question.
That credibility matters because the ugly parts are unresolved.
There is so much packed into Ruben and Niall’s bond — love, resentment, damage, dependence — that it almost feels too much to saddle us with.
Which may be why the pilot left me with a strange reaction: It feels like it has already said everything and almost nothing.
Even the mothers, who seem to offer a softer emotional counterweight, are pushed to the margins. That feels like a missed opportunity.
That is intriguing and frustrating, but it’s why I’m still here for Episode 2.
There’s enough here to keep me watching, largely because the performances are so strong and the central relationship is so unsettling. But shock, violence, and sexual provocation alone won’t carry a limited series.
It needs more shape.
Gut Check
I had no idea what to expect from this show, and “Pilot” doesn’t do much to settle that.
Is this about love? Abuse? Masculinity? Desire? Family? All of it?
Maybe all of it. I just need the show to start arranging those pieces into something I can sink my teeth into.
Intrusive Thoughts
- I can’t stop thinking about this quote!
Niall: I was thinking about the exam tomorrow…
Ruben: Fuck off.
Niall: Right you are!
- How is anyone supposed to compete with Niall’s first time?
- Shame on me for finding some parts of this show so hot. Even worse, I found some parts funny.
- British secondary school bullying is so weird because your balls should not be involved.
- AIDS, huh? That’s how you know you’re in the ’80s.
What did you think of the Half Man premiere? Is Gadd rehashing the same themes without escalation or differentiation? What are your feelings about Ruben and Niall’s relationship and the avenues it might take in the future?
Let’s keep the conversation going — it’s the only way the good stuff survives.
Say something in the comments, share if you’re moved to do so, and keep reading. Independent voices need readers like you.
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