Throughout its six-episode run, HBO's 'Half Man' has established itself as one of the year's most daring series. Focusing on the toxic bond between Niall Kennedy (Mitchell Robertson, Jamie Bell) and his pseudo-stepbrother Ruben Pallister (Stuart Campbell, Richard Gadd), the show takes bold risks while examining shame and queerness in ways many series avoid. Niall and Ruben are drawn to each other despite Niall's shrewdness and Ruben's violent tendencies, igniting a spark that quickly festers and begins to ruin both their lives. Gadd, the creator and star who won Emmys for Netflix's 'Baby Reindeer,' is fascinated by how toxic masculinity impacts male relationships. Yet the show has a glaring problem common to many series centered on white queer characters: 'Half Man' fails to reckon with the intersection of race and toxic masculinity and how it affects characters of color.
A Missed Opportunity
When Niall leaves for university, he meets Alby Safadi (Bilal Hasna, Charlie De Melo), a gay student of color who becomes one of the few people he can open up to. Their relationship slowly turns romantic, with Alby providing Niall space to finally admit his attraction to men. Repeatedly, Alby serves as a shoulder for Niall to cry on, often sidelining his own interests and safety. Just as Niall seems to have found a confidant, Alby's encouragement for Niall to come out leads Ruben to interpret this revelation as a personal attack, resulting in a brutal assault on Alby.
At this point, 'Half Man' asks its audience to believe that Ruben's targeting of Alby has nothing to do with race and everything to do with queerness. While the series centers on the tumultuous Niall-Ruben relationship, making Alby a man of color without engaging with how race shapes the narrative reveals a significant flaw. (The show never mentions Alby's nationality or ethnicity.) The assault leaves Alby comatose and permanently disfigured, and also destroys Niall and Ruben's already fragile relationship.
Alby's Marginalization
Alby's character is largely sidelined, even during a trial where Ruben claims the assault resulted from Alby groping him. Set from the late 1980s to the present day, it's laughable to suggest that Alby's race doesn't factor into how Ruben, his family, and the justice system perceive him. From then on, Alby's presence in the show—despite being revealed as Niall's husband in the present—is ghostlike. His existence has been irrevocably altered by the narrative, yet he is never given the space or screen time to significantly impact the story.
Except for 'Heated Rivalry,' 'Interview with the Vampire,' and a few others, queer television has long focused on white characters or ensembles, with queer characters of color often relegated to sidekick roles or love interests for white protagonists, like Alby. The issue isn't their secondary plot positioning but how they are treated within the narrative and by their creators. Alby's existence is a pillar of the 1990s conflict, yet only Niall's trauma from the assault is explored. Through harsh breaths, confusion, and horrified glances at Ruben, the impact of witnessing Alby's assault consumes Niall. Alby's reaction to his own assault is only visible through physical scars, with no regard for how it affected his education, career, or rekindled relationship with Niall. Being attacked to the point of a coma is significant, but the trauma endured by the series' sole character of color is never given the same weight as that of other characters.
A Troubling Trend
If Alby existed only in the past timeline, this exploration might be unnecessary. However, he and Niall marry in the present, where Ruben's presence at their wedding causes both men to panic. Alby's mental and physical scars are evident, so diminishing them feels like an ignorant dismissal. This follows a worrying trend in queer television. The series finale, instead of suggesting that Alby and Niall's relationship is as damaged or fascinating as Niall and Ruben's, portrays Alby as passive and nearly docile. When he and Niall reunite after Ruben is imprisoned in the late 2000s, Alby tells his partner to reconcile with the man who destroyed both their lives. In doing so, Gadd proves Alby is merely a pseudo-therapist for Niall, who has become a despondent addict consumed by shame and obsession. 'Half Man' is a story about how toxic masculinity shapes men and their relationships, yet there are many cracks in the narrative.
There's no denying the series is one of the year's best, but Gadd has proven himself a writer unwilling to tackle how toxic masculinity is directly linked to Ruben and Niall's whiteness. Since Alby's assault, vilification, and reappearance, 'Half Man' forces me to question why Alby was cast as a man of color if the creator wouldn't explore how violence impacts men of color around them. By using Alby as a therapist for the white protagonist and a punching bag for the white antagonist, the otherwise bold and tightly written series is softened by its disregard for racial politics, pointing to a larger problem in queer television. 'Half Man' is streaming on HBO Max.
