I have watched most of this series, but at times I found it hard to keep going, mainly because I do not particularly like the looks of its two leads. Of course, there are reasons on other levels as well: I think the original novel’s portrayal of a same-sex relationship is closer to a certain model of gay romance imagined by women. Compared with looks, this is an even more important reason, but I will not expand on it here.
Let us return to the third episode. I like this episode more, perhaps because Scott and Kip’s relationship not only presents a standard and complete narrative arc, but also contains a great deal within just over forty minutes. This is not to say that it has many layers or perspectives; rather, their relationship gives the feeling that the positions of offense and defense have been reversed.
At first, Scott lives in a glamorous, dazzling world. He appears nearly perfect: a reliable team captain with a regal presence. Kip, by contrast, is a student of ordinary means who works at a milkshake shop. But once the two truly fall in love, the distance between them gradually narrows and their relationship becomes increasingly equal.
Kip has neither enormous wealth nor a life of indulgence, attention, and getting anything he wants, but he is able to face himself honestly. Only later does he realize that being with Scott is not as simple as spending a night with the country’s most handsome football player; it has cost him many things.
Scott looks powerful, but in reality he cannot even visit a museum without wearing sunglasses and a hat. In public he remains anxious at every moment, afraid that appearing with Kip will become news and afraid of being seen. Therefore, in the first half of their relationship, Scott seems to occupy the higher position and Kip the lower one, because Scott’s life is more glamorous. Only in the second half do we discover that Scott actually asks more of Kip, forcing Kip to abandon his former life in order to accompany him. Their feelings reverse their positions and make Scott appear especially helpless.
Kip eventually awakens, understands what he truly needs, and makes the right choice. That choice also causes him pain. More interestingly, Scott may have foreseen how things would develop very early on, yet still could not stop himself from making this mistake. Kip did not think that far ahead at first, but as he becomes increasingly cut off from his previous life, he begins to understand what he has given up. He then painfully decides to end the relationship, or at least press pause on it.
It is precisely because both men truly fell for each other that they each made the wrong choice. Scott brought Kip into his life from the beginning without deciding how he would answer for their relationship. Halfway through, Kip already sensed that the relationship might lead nowhere, yet still could not let go. He thought he did not care, but in fact he had fallen deeply into it. He tells his friend, “Just be happy for me. I’m really happy. Really.” But in reality, the more someone insists that they are happy, the more it often shows that they are not.
Beyond the subtle emotional changes, the episode also has many classic lines. I am not sure whether the credit belongs to the original author or the screenwriter, because I did not pay particular attention to these details when reading the novel. But the dialogue in the series is indeed concise and often captures the central point in just a few sentences.
For example, when Scott and Kip meet in the bedroom for the first time, Scott asks whether Kip wants a complete tour of the house or the other option, and Kip chooses “or” without hesitation. Then Elena challenges Scott: “You love him, but do you know that he’s hurting?” “Kip is wonderful. He deserves the best. He deserves to live in the light. I believe you do too.” In only a few lines, she expresses her clear-eyed judgment of Kip and Scott separately while directly identifying the problems and needs in their relationship. Elena’s lines here are very well written.
When Kip finally confronts Scott, his dialogue is quite restrained. He says, “I know they’re your family. Your teammates are your family. But I have my own family too, and I miss them. I’ve been lying to them, and it makes me feel like I’m getting farther and farther away from them.” The series does not want to intensify the conflict, and its limited runtime also matters, so the scene is handled with restraint.
The original novel’s wording cuts deeper. Kip tells Scott, “Every day at home I don’t know whether you’re coming back, and I can’t go out to dinner with you. This isn’t the life of a boyfriend; it’s the life of a mistress.” The emotion in the novel is clearly stronger and more destructive. In the novel, Scott and Kip reconcile before Scott formally comes out; in the series, they truly reunite only after Scott decides to bring him onto the stage.
These choices show that the screenwriter is skilled. When Scott accepts his award, Kip sheds tears. Kip first says that he is not sad, and she repeats, “You’re allowed to be sad.” This part also left a deep impression on me.
All in all, I really like this episode’s self-contained story and even consider it better than the main plot. This is not the first time I have thought a side story was better than the main one; the first season of Mythic Quest gave me a similar feeling. Sometimes I cannot help rewatching this episode, and one important reason is that its lines are so memorable.
