There are many wonderful and enthralling aspects of Heartstopper, from the cast, to the music, to the positive vibes and perfect romance. But one of those elements that makes the show so completely lovely and watchable is the visual aesthetic.
From the filter effects creating a rosy glow, to the cartoon animations, and so much of the dialogue taking place over Instagram DMs, the show demands to be looked at. Every shot of this eight-episode series is impeccably lit, gorgeously colourful, and carefully composed. The attention to detail in the set design, creates a world so rich in imagery and imagination. Character bedrooms compliment what we know about them, offering visual references to emphasize who these people are (Charlie is the musical one, obviously, he has a drum kit and band posters, and a giant neon sign that says “Music,” while Tao is the film nerd, with polaroids and film posters covering his walls.) They are over-the-top and no teenager’s bedroom has ever been quite so aesthetically satisfying, no classroom’s decor ever so cohesive and pleasing to the eye, but it doesn’t matter. It tells the story. Each new set is like a carefully drawn image, which, of course, it was originally.
By leaning into the visual essence of the source material, a comic book that by nature of the drawn page, must carefully choose everything that is put in front of the readers’ eye, Heartstopper succeeds in creating an unparalleled visual storytelling aesthetic. The animation effects, that highlight characters’ inner emotions, combined with light filters, and lens flash rainbows paint a warm glow over everything. The look of the show sets a mood, and creates a whole new love language in itself. Combine that with the highly effective music cues, and my heart is pounding.
Which is to say nothing, yet, of the fantastic deployment of texting on screen. For years, figuring out how to include text conversations into film and television has been more of a nuisance, or a challenge. It’s extremely common, and necessary, for contemporary stories to include contemporary ways of communicating, of which texting is king.
But Heartstopper here sets a new bar, for not only masterfully including texting in the visual storytelling aesthetic, but leaning in to the dramatic potential of this highly specific method of communicating. Shots of phones cradled by a thoughtful thumb, or franticly typing are not merely ancillary to the relationships on screen, but intrinsic to them.
It’s an extremely effective way to communicate both what is said and unsaid between characters. Where once we might have relied on voiceover narration or maybe montage to tell us what characters are thinking about, now we can peak at their phones and watch them react as they scroll their crush’s Instagram feed. We see them use their phones to process their inner thoughts, and we see with the transparency that comes from texting someone from your bedroom with the door closed, the face and body language that tells the truth, even if the text sent might cover up those feelings a smidge.
We see the messages that people choose to send to one another, along with the deleted drafts which do more to clue us in to their inner turmoil than their faces can only hint at. We see the timestamps, and the gaps that speak volumes when characters stop talking to one another, reminders of the last (sometimes harsh) words that were shared. Texting (or in this case Instagram DMing) is a whole language in its own right, a method that weaves context and subtext and timing and punctuation and emoji together to offer way more than information.
The meaning of texts can be so loaded, shaped by the tone one wants to express in just the right way. We see characters wrestle with how best to initiate a conversation. We see them fail to come up with the right words, and let 10 agonizing minutes go by without a response. We see the totally serious and anxious face that accompanies a “haha” or an “lol” while feeling out where the other person is at. We see the satisfaction that comes at crafting the right message that hits just the right tone (thank you x).
In this way, texting is not a stop-gap to fill in the plot between the scenes where characters talk in person, it is an intrinsic and essential part of the story. On par with all the rest of the dialogue.
Heartstopper masterfully weaves both shots of the phones themselves with shots of characters reading and writing on their phones, as the text boxes appear on screen. It raises the bar, not only in engaging texting as an essential method of communication in modern storytelling, but as the new version of “phone acting.” To act, against a phone, scrolling Instagram, or a chat history. To react to the messages that pop up, and take a moment (or more) to craft a response. These actors are stunning, and their phone acting is incredible.
The tension is built around these quiet moments, as story and emotion unfold visually on screen. Unlike the (up to now) conventional approach, to avoid filming screens and typing because it slows down the action, Heartstopper gets comfy in its slower moments. Letting that tension and the body language do the talking. The story does not “pause” to include phones, because phones and Instagram and texting are unapologetically part of the story, and part of how these characters relate to one another.
And it is all done within this context of a visually stunning aesthetic. It forces eyes on the screen, not only to read what is being said, but to see the looks, the glow, and the sparks fly.
I cannot get enough of this gorgeous, beautiful show.
