So we can all agree that nobody was okay after episode 4, right? Like. All of us underwent a complete mental breakdown. Emails went unanswered, meals went uncooked, people with kids achieved Hayden Pike-levels of benign child neglect as “All the Things We Said” played on a loop in our heads.
And then episode 5 dropped. To Tierney’s credit, it absolutely healed me of episode 4 trauma. To his discredit, he did it by inventing gentler, sweeter ways of ripping out my still-beating heart from my chest.
Episode 5 picks up pretty much where episode 4 left off. We find out in the morning after that the hot-n-heavy action between Shane and Lily hadn’t exactly been hot or heavy, which cannot be a surprise to anyone, especially after the supremely awkward headpat Shane gave Rose at the end of last episode. Homeboy pats Rose’s head like she’s an anxious black lab who needs reassuring while they’re fucking.
But I digress. Anyway Shane is all, oops sorry I sucked in bed, I guess I’m really stressed ha ha. Rose makes noncommittal noises because she’s got work to do and this twunk having a crisis is not it, at least not right now.
But when they next have dinner alone, Rose accomplishes the impossible, putting her only one miracle (and a Catholic conversion?) away from candidacy for sainthood: she points out that Shane is gay. Really for real all the way gay. She went to theater school, okay! She’s learned to recognize the early warning signs of beardhood. She’s an expert on releasing herself and whatever comely twink has attached himself to her from the toils of performative heterosexuality.
Shane reveals some key facts about himself (he’d been with a guy and liked it, an admission that’s interspersed with scenes of him and Ilya kissing that made me scream and rend my garments; he likes being the hole, and truly, self-knowledge is so important). Rose is delighted by all this and pledges to remain besties with Shane.
It’s an incredible scene. My heart grew three sizes; anybody who’s made noises about Hudson Williams’ acting ability will hopefully shut up forever because his performance here is masterful—his palpable discomfort; his desperation to keep Rose because losing her would mean losing his last, best hope for lying to himself; the tears in his eyes; the vulnerability he displays.
It’s the gentlest, warmest scene we’ve seen all show, to be topped only by…all the rest of the episode. Rose, whose relationship stakes are completely different than Shane and Ilya’s, is unafraid to commit to speaking the truth, and by doing so, provides Shane with a model on how to do so.
This allows Shane to unlock some new nodes in his skill tree, which gives him a couple new spell slots and also the Communicate Feelings ability. He also earned the “Dated Certified Hottie Rose Landry but Couldn’t Quite Get It Up” achievement that, according to the Steam dashboard, is shared by 80% of Rose’s ex-boyfriends.
Cut to Ilya and Svetlana lounging on Ilya’s bed. Their conversation turns to the All-Star game in February. The schtick for this year is East vs. West, which means Shane and Ilya finally have a chance to play on the same line. It apparently becomes imperative to figure out who’s going to be the center in this configuration; Shane can’t play wing, but Svetlana suggests that Ilya can, which drives Ilya to his greatest crisis yet: could he possibly allow Shane Hollander to center him? Like, in front of God and everyone at All-Stars??
Nobody tops centers Ilya Rozanov! Nobody!!!
We move on to February 2017. All-Stars in Tampa Bay. Shane approaches the hotel bar, where Ilya sits alone; Shane looks the most relaxed he’s ever been, while Ilya is cool and guarded. Like the tuna melt episode, we see these two bathed in beautiful golden light, which induces a Pavlovian spike of anxiety, but Tierney is a kinder god this episode: Shane and Ilya quickly and subtly establish key facts. And by subtle I mean by these doofuses’ standards—never forget that their pseudonyms for each other are Jane, a name that rhymes with Shane, and Lily, which almost exactly sounds like Ilya backwards. Neither of them has brought romantic or sexual partners. Shane and Rose are no longer together.
Most crucially, Shane reveals he’s hired a personal stylist, which gives Ilya an infinite well of jokes he can make about Shane’s fashion sense while Shane basks in the attention. Look, Shane is my beautiful autistic son who wants nothing more than to be a hole and get lovingly shit-talked by his absolutely stacked husband, and I love that for him.
We move to Ilya goofing around with some kids in a pool while Shane watches from his deck chair, interspersed with shots of the two of them playing the All-Star game together. It’s so fucking wholesome and so fucking cute. They smile so much at each other, displaying a new ease and affection. I’m pretty sure Shane got pregnant watching Ilya with kids.
I don’t know if my heart can keep growing; Jacob Tierney, you’re giving me dilated cardiomyopathy.
Ilya finds Shane on the beach at sunset and they chat. They make small talk; Shane asks for Ilya’s hotel room number as their hands creep closer together on the sand until finally, finally their thumbs touch. This single point of contact has me howling and stamping my feet and bugging my eyes out like a Tex Avery wolf. Who needs dignity! Dignity is overrated!
Back in Ilya’s room, he dismisses a phone call from his brother, Alexei, just as Shane arrives. This isn’t important at all or an omen of Pain to Come 😇 you can one hundred percent trust Jacob Tierney to not destroy your feelings.
So, remember how I mentioned Shane unlocked a new skill post-conversation with Rose? I wasn’t kidding. Homeboy is finally able to open up to Ilya, not only about his sexuality, but about his feelings for Ilya. Ilya is, understandably, defensive and prickly; the last time he displayed vulnerability, Shane basically kicked him in the emotional goolies and ran away. Why would he trust Shane at this point?
Shane persists in the most heartbreakingly sincere way. He apologizes for his tuna meltdown, then admits that he likes Ilya more than he should. Ilya, in turn, opens up about his family situation and how having any kind of open relationship with Shane would preclude any possibility of returning to Russia. How his father is suffering from dementia.
At this last we see Ilya’s façade fully break: he looks off to the side, his face turning into a mask of grief, and Shane—Shane climbs into Ilya’s lap, and holds him while he quietly cries.
When Shane leaves some untold amount of time later, with Ilya reclining mostly-naked on a thoroughly disheveled hotel bed, Ilya says “Goodnight, Shane.”
And Shane laughs a little, and responds with “Goodnight, Ilya.”
We’re all fine here! We’re all totally fine! We’re not face-down on the carpet, sobbing at the two of them using first names again, deliberately and with affection.
Time passes. Boston and Montreal play against each other; Shane goes to Ilya’s house for an afternoon quickie, during which Ilya declines another call from Alexei (😅). The two of them are relaxed and open and affectionate; Shane is able to ask Ilya a thorny question (how’s your family?) and Ilya is able to assert a conversational boundary gently in a very Ilya-ish way (stop, you ask too many questions). The contrast between this and the last time Shane and Ilya were in that very same bed is marked. They’re now know some important (and painful!) parts of their lives; they’re unafraid to show interest.
At the game, we have another opportunity to see Ilya captain his team. This time he’s offering a $1000-per-goal bounty, and, look. I know nothing about hockey. I have no idea if what he does as a captain is good, or even plausible. But Ilya’s charisma and clear affection for his teammates makes it feel plausible, and every time I see him interacting with them, I remember him saying “I love you, I love you, I love you, good job, I love you” in episode 3 and I melt into puddle of goo topped by a giant pair of heart-eyes.
When the game ends, Alexei calls yet again. This time, Ilya answers.
The next morning, the Metros locker room buzzes with rumors: Ilya never made it to the Raiders away game in Nashville. Shane is immediately on high alert; he texts and tries to call, and we get to hear Ilya’s voicemail greeting (“Hi, this is Ilya, I will never listen to your voicemail”—real king shit).
Ilya does finally facetime Shane, while Shane is in bed with a book and his reading glasses on. Naturally, Ilya latches onto the most important thing: Shane Hollander wears glasses. New kink unlocked, at least for Ilya—audience members unlocked this kink in an episode 4 montage. Should’ve been facetiming your fuckfrenemy years ago, Ilya—think about all that slutty eyeglass time you missed out on.
The rest of the conversation confirms what everyone has guessed: Ilya’s father is dead, and Ilya is in Moscow, dealing with the funeral arrangements and the estate. This doesn’t stop them from having facetime sex, which we alas don’t get to see, but I ain’t even mad about it—it would’ve fucked the pacing of the episode, and we have so much more plot to get through.
That moment of sweetness aside, Moscow smothers Ilya. It’s evident in his flattened affect, in the jaw that he holds so tightly. Things come to a head with his family when Most Punchable Brother award-winner Alexei shows up, demanding Ilya make a plan (read: set up the family with enough money to live comfortably forever). They argue; Svetlana shows up to break it up. When Alexei calls her a whore, Ilya loses it and hits him, a moment we’ve probably all been rooting for since we’ve seen Alexei in episode 1.
Ilya offers Alexei his apartment and a trust for his niece on the condition that Alexei never contact him again. A stellar bargain all around! Alexei leaves, and Svetlana and Ilya have a moment of intimacy so tender and vulnerable that it hurts to watch: they affirm their love for each other, while Svetlana lets Ilya know that she’s figured out his secret of the last eight years by using “he” to refer to Jane.
If you guessed that this scene once again sent me to the floor, you would’ve guessed correctly. This show makes me feel a normal amount of emotion!
Speaking of scenes from the show that make me feel a normal amount emotion: after dinner, while walking under a deserted overpass, Ilya calls Shane. He’s desperate for warmth and an outlet for his feelings, but his English isn’t up to the task, especially after the stress of the past few hours.
Shane offers a solution: Ilya should say everything weighing on his mind, but do it in Russian. Shane can’t understand or respond, but he can at least offer a sympathetic ear.
And Ilya takes it up on it. Thus begins one of the most masterful on-screen performances I’ve ever seen.
I can’t speak to Connor Storrie’s Russian accent here; according to assorted Internet commentators, it’s excellent. The fact is, he performs a three-minute monologue written in Russian, a language he didn’t speak before the show began shooting, and does it in a way that’s genuinely moved people who speak it.
But beyond the mechanics of speaking Russian, which is no easy feat, he sells us on every ounce of emotion Ilya feels: his anguish, his exhaustion, his guilt over being unable to care for his father in his final days. His love for Shane.
He declares his love for Shane, in a language Shane has no chance of understanding. It precludes Ilya’s desires from being seen and reciprocated, but it’s exactly that cover that allows him to finally express himself fully and honestly.
Give Storrie any role he wants. He is extraordinary; he takes lines that could so easily tip over into cheesiness (“I’m so in love with you and I don’t know what to do about it”), and makes them sing.
One week later, the Metros and the Raiders are once again playing each other, this time in Montreal. Shane skates up to Ilya during warmups and offers…drumroll…the front door code to his actual house. Ilya responds with his default love language, shit-talking (“Front door? Brave”), but it’s pretty clear the two of them are continuing on their trajectory of increased intimacy. Their face-off this time is playful—joyful, even—and Shane skates away with the puck—
Only to be checked so brutally that he passes out on the ice.
The show uses a clever combination of broadcast footage and close-ups on the rink to track the action here. A fight immediately breaks out between Hayden and Marleau, the Raider who checked Shane (more on how much I love Hayden in a bit). Meanwhile, Ilya hovers anxiously over Shane’s inert body in the broadcast footage, which then immediately cuts to a close-up of the medics lifting Shane onto the bodyboard while Ilya demands to know whether Shane is OK as the ref threatens Ilya with a penalty if he doesn’t get off the ice.
By keeping the focus on Shane, the show throws the viewers into the same state of uncertainty as all the characters in the show, and pulls our gaze where it belongs: the most boring and now also the most concussed man in Canada. A lesser director would’ve resorted to endless close-up reaction shots—from the attendees, from the players, from Ilya. Maybe Shane’s parents watching at home. And while the cast, especially Storrie, are good enough to pull it off, it would’ve slowed the narrative momentum to a crawl while adding nothing to the tension.
(Remember what I’m saying here about reaction shots, because this is going to be relevant later.)
Tierney’s approach works, and it’s decisions like these that give the high-stakes emotions room to breathe without sacrificing momentum. His sense of dramatic timing is flawless. It’s why the jokes on Letterkenny and Shoresy land. It’s why this show is as good as it is.
Cut to Ilya visiting Shane in the hospital. The most boring but concussed man in Canada is somewhat less boring because he’s off his fucking gourd on painkillers. He also has a broken collarbone, and he knows he got off easy. Mostly, he’s mad Marleau fucked up the date because he was going to ask Ilya to come to his cottage. Spend a week or two there in the summer. Fuck Russia! (This Tumblr post perfectly conveys Shane’s affect).
Ilya, in the meantime, is keeping his shit together by a thread. We have never seen him so terrified—not when his father died, not when his shitty brother confronted him. The closest thing we’ve seen to this expression is, in fact, during Shane’s tuna meltdown, when Shane climbs off Ilya and stutters how he can’t do it anymore. When Ilya brushes Shane’s bruised little face…indescribable. This is what every romance novel reader lives for! The yearning. The tenderness.
Ilya’s visit is interrupted by a nurse; Shane’s soft, childlike “oh no” is one of the funniest, most understated comic flourishes I’ve seen all year. Shane is such a buttoned-up character, which means he doesn’t get the dynamic range that the more volatile Ilya gets to express—and I’m talking about character traits here, not actor performances, because Hudson Williams has plenty of dynamic range—that seeing him loose like this is especially charming.
Time passes. Shane recovers at his parents’ house in Lanaudière; they watch a Boston vs. New York match in which New York knocks the Raiders out of the playoffs. Yuna predicts that this year, it’ll be Scott Hunter’s turn to hoist the cup.
(Total side note: can I just say that I appreciate how the show—which gets this from the book—has not one, but two women who are passionate and knowledgeable about hockey? The two most competent and incisive commentators are Svetlana and Yuna. You don’t see this kind of rep very often!)
And then we move to the championship game, which happens weirdly fast after the Raiders lose—one week later, really? (I still know nothing about hockey, but I’ve absolutely memorized the major events of the hockey season because of this fucking show. Absolute clown behavior.) The New York Admirals, as prophesied by Hockey Witch Yuna Hollander, win the championship. The crowd goes wild; the Admirals pile onto the ice to form the biggest sweatiest red jersey-est victory huddle. Shane and Ilya are texting their way through it from their respective homes—Shane at his parents’ house, Ilya in Boston.
So remember the mad shit I talked about reaction shots up above? Here’s the thing: they’re just a tool in a filmmaker’s arsenal, and like any tool, can be wielded clumsily or well. And Tierney provides us with a masterclass on how to do reaction shots in this ending sequence.
We cut between Scott Hunter and the Admirals celebrating on the ice, Temu Stanley Cup hoisted proudly above their heads, and shots of Ilya and Shane watching at home. We cut to Kip watching in the stands crying a little as he witnesses his ex-lover’s victory.
And then, as the rink opens up to allow family members and loved ones of the Admirals onto the ice, Wolf Parade’s “I’ll Believe in Anything” begins to play. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this show, it’s that once the music kicks in, it’s time to fling yourself on the floor. Do you still have bruises from last time? TOO BAD! Oh, you been crying off and on throughout this episode? Drop and give me another 20 (minutes of crying).
As Dan Boeckner warbles “Give me your eyes, I need sunshine,” Scott remains an island in a sea of cheering players being embraced by their loved ones. He eventually breaks away and starts skating towards the stands; the talking heads are confused—is he trying to acknowledge his fans?
Nope. If Shane is the most boring man in Canada, then Scott is the loneliest man in New York, especially right now. Parents: dead. Close friends: non-existent. Lover: left after you ask him to stuff himself back into the closet for a few years.
A change comes over his face as he decides—fuck it. He’s just captained his team to a Temu Stanley Cup victory. What can they do to him—fire him? So he looks right at Kip, and gestures at him to come down.
“I’ll believe in anything, if you’ll believe anything,” sings Wolf Parade.
We now rapidly alternate between Kip clumsily making his way down, Ilya’s thoughtful frown as he watches from home, and Shane’s bewildered face. The camera doesn’t linger for a second longer than it needs to: its job is to establish where the characters are in space—especially Scott and Kip in the arena—and where our two couples are emotionally. When it moves in for the reaction shots from Ilya and Shane, it zooms in to keep it dynamic.
Kip finally makes it out onto the ice, and then they finally do it. The climactic moment of this episode. Kip and Scott kiss. They say I love you. The music crests and crashes. The crowd goes crazy. The camera starts spinning—not just around Scott and Kip, but around Ilya and Shane as well. Heads are whirling, so the cameras do, too.
This. This is how you do reaction shots. Do you hear me, Netflix? God.
It’s a testament to Storrie and Williams’ acting chops that their looks of incredulity are so good. Ilya’s frown of concentration tells me he’s calculating a million different variables in light of what this kiss means, both for the NHL I mean MLH in general, and for his relationship with Shane in particular. Shane’s shocked Pikachu face, on the other hand, indicates that there’s nothing but Wii music playing in his head right now; I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone bluescreen this hard.
Ilya jumps up from his chair and calls Shane. “I’m coming to the cottage,” he says.
“Urk?” says Shane.
Roll credits!
At time of writing, “I’ll Believe in Anything” is tied with Breaking Bad’s “Ozymandias” for highest-rated TV show episode of all time. And you know what? I’m gonna give it to them. Are there small craft nitpicks I could make here and there? Absolutely. Are there other shows that have managed to pull off technical and storytelling tricks that are flashier? Yeah, of course—the first season of Severance immediately comes to mind, and “Fishes” from season 2 of The Bear.
But none of them have managed to burrow so thoroughly under my skin. Heated Rivalry is tailor-made to be a target of mockery by a certain type of critic who’s convinced they’re better than all that jejune lowbrow romance slop—look ha ha it’s about closeted queer hockey players who play for rival teams and have a lot of sex about it, isn’t that so silly. Why would anyone with half a braincell and a modicum of taste subject themselves to this?
And god knows a lot of big media outlets have taken exactly this tack, leveling accusations as bizarre as “this show desexes the men in order to make them safer for consumption by the straight women who are its primary consumers” (which: what) to “this show doesn’t do enough to focus on the ambient homophobia that permeates our culture” (which: W H A T).
Here’s what I have to say to these critics: Heated Rivalry is a skillfully-written, tightly-made show with some of the best acting talent I’ve ever seen. It’s sincere, it’s about big feelings, it’s about people from different cultures falling in love despite immense obstacles. It’s about the systems that suffocate and strangle everything they deem deviant and disgusting and unworthy, and how people refuse to be suffocated anyway.
It works because it’s a romance, and because it sticks to the romance beats.
As always, the episode is littered with a wealth of Easter eggs that reward re-watching. I can’t and won’t name all of them, but the two I’ll mention are:
1. How when Shane closes his eyes during Ilya’s Russian monologue, Ilya’s voice begins to sound as if he’s right there next to Shane instead of through the phone; and
2. How Shane’s heartrate on the heartrate monitor in the hospital spikes to 110 when he first sees Ilya, then drops gradually as Ilya gets closer and holds his hand. Right before Ilya leaves, we see that Shane’s heartrate is 81—Ilya’s jersey number.
There’s so much thought into every single little thing in this show! It’s made with so much thought and care! How did we get something so good, and made specifically for us? I’m so used to dreck that I can’t quite believe we’ve been gifted this incredible gem.
One last thing before I wrap up this absolute unit of a recap: the side characters in this show are so very good. Svetlana and Rose are utterly delightful; the show expands on their characters and presence in a way the book doesn’t, and gives them some much-needed depth. In particular, making Svetlana an old friend of Ilya’s from Russia vs. a random recurring hookup who lives in Boston was a genius move. It gives Ilya an anchor; it softens his isolation without lessening the impact of the abuse he’s suffered.
But I gotta give a special shout-out to my boy Hayden. Hayden in the book is…fine. His main character trait is loyalty to Shane. Callan Porter, however, manages to imbue him with the perfect amount of golden retriever himbo energy, and his cheery sunshiney acceptance of Shane (“I don’t care! Get laid, you weirdo!”) is a wonderful foil for Svetlana, in all her intelligence, feline beauty, and fierce loyalty for Ilya.
Anyway. Can’t wait for the final episode. It’s truly sadistic that it’s airing Christmas night at 9 PM Pacific Time; I, like I’m sure many people in my time zone, will be quietly vibrating in a corner after Christmas dinner until we can settle down to watch the show.
See y’all at the cottage!
Big massive thanks to Candy for yet another wallbanger (lol). You can stream Heated Rivalry on HBO Max and on Crave.
The review I have been waiting for! Great recap. Thank you.
I love everything about this recap.
Assuming show Svetlana has indeed figured everything out, I wonder what this will do to Ilya’s storyline in S2/The Long Game.