With a title like Special, celebrating just how unique Ryan O’Connell’s new Netflix series is feels a bit on the nose. But it’s honestly where you have to start. When it comes to tone and tropes, Special might feel familiar, but they’re all filtered through a lens we’ve never seen before. As a gay man with cerebral palsy, O’Connell uses his platform as a writer to share the roles his disability and sexuality play in his life, offering a queer narrative that truly feels unique to the television landscape.
Playing a fictionalized version of himself, the story begins with Ryan getting an internship at a Buzzfeed-esque site, his first real chance to exist outside of his house, which he still shares with his caring but overbearing mother (Jessica Hecht). After a misunderstanding, Ryan decides to lie to his co-workers and new boss, blaming his limp on a car accident, thus hiding the fact that he has cerebral palsy. This little lie propels him forward into his new life, where he attempts to date, form friendships, and build self-confidence… something that might not be possible until he learns to accept his disability.
Special is at its best when it focuses on the intersection between Ryan’s queerness and his disability, with several beautiful moments that concisely explain issues within the LGBTQ+ community that straight audiences can’t seem to figure out, without ever comprising on authenticity or explicitness. Queer dating apps can feel overwhelming, and living in suburbia while gay can be truly stifling. But for Ryan, these problems come with additional worries about having sex while disabled, an act that would require him to fully put his trust in someone else and reveal parts of his body he may be self conscious about. An early episode in the series mixes a fun, body-positivity with the bitter realism of awkward hookups and the intense emotions that come with rejection, all explored tenderly.
But the real highlight of the series comes in the third episode, one in which Ryan decides he wants to finally lose his virginity. He decides to seek the services of a sex worker, played by YouTube star Brian Jordan Alvarez. This episode showcases one of the very best depictions of sex between two men I’ve ever seen in any medium – it’s explicitly detailed and sexy, but in a way that emphasizes realism above all else. It highlights the importance of lubrication, foreplay, and protection with an almost clinical approach, but also feels sweet and oddly wholesome in the way it depicts sex as something beautiful. Both actors deserve tremendous credit for quite literally baring all in the emotional scene, which instantly affirms the series’ status as an important must-watch in 2019.
The rest of the series bounces joyfully back and forth between classic sitcom subplots that are filled with a sort of warm nostalgia, but never forget the POV its being told from. Some of these subplots really work; the show features a terrific will they/won’t they storyline, while another episode uses a traditional blind date storyline as a means to explore Ryan’s self-hate and internal biases. When it comes to humor, some of the jokes fall flat, with a few too many cloying one-liners. But the show has energy to spare, and keeps things moving, so you can’t harp on bad jokes for too long.
And it’s easy to forgive any bad jokes when the last few episodes give Jessica Hecht one hell of a subplot. Hecht is best known for her supporting work in Friends as Susan, or her turn in Breaking Bad where she was sadly underutilized. Here, O’Connell and his writers give her a full meal of dramatic material, as Ryan’s mom starts to step out of her shell and try dating again, something we’re lead to believe she hasn’t done since before Ryan was born. It’s a beautiful, sensitive portrait of a mother who literally put her life on hold to work as a caretaker for her son, and while there are some heart wrenching moments near the end of the season, the show never feels schmaltzy or clichéd. This is a flat-out terrific performance, and absolutely warrants Emmy conversation, even in this crowded landscape of great performers.
And I didn’t even get to the best part of the series: every episode is 15 minutes long. It’s an unusual turn from Netflix, and makes the series bingeable in under two hours. But it works, and before long it’s almost too-easy to just let autoplay do it’s thing as you burn through the episodes. True, it makes pacing the episodes out somewhat difficult – a 15 minute episode by itself isn’t all that thrilling, no matter how good the show is. But, in an age where new must-watch series start almost every week, an easy binge is a blessing.
Special ends on a surprisingly dark note, with a quasi-cliffhanger that will be deeply unsatisfying if the show doesn’t get renewed for a second season. Netflix has been getting stingier with renewals, and it’s genuinely nerve-wracking to think the series might go unresolved. But, on its own, this first season does work. It’s not perfect, but it’s funny, sweet, and genuinely offers something new to viewers. It’s great that so many shows have begun diversifying their supporting characters, but what we really need is a diversity in storytellers. This show truly stands out.
Overall rating: 8 out of 10
