Half Man: super discomfort (review)

Richard Gadd pushes the psychological violence of My Little Reindeer even further, and signs an incandescent dive into a toxic fraternity. A grueling, magnetic series, impossible to forget.

Being as twisted as My Little Reindeer was not a foregone conclusion. But Richard Gadd has outdone himself.

The Scottish author has once again created the most disturbing work you will see this year. The uneasiness is total, from the first to the last episode, and yet, a form of brutal euphoria emerges. As if emotional violence ends up becoming exhilarating.

With Half Man, Richard Gadd delivers a sharp dissection of masculinity. A mini-series that acts as both a poisonous tender embrace and an invigorating punch in the face. If My Little Reindeer made you uncomfortable, Half Man will make you squint more than once, while sensitive Niall and angry Ruben provoke each other, from their traumatic childhood to adulthood. Their respective mothers discover a lesbian love affair late in life. And here they are, having to share a room in this small house in the poor suburbs of Glasgow. Niall is not very popular at school. Intelligent but introverted, he is the target of bullying which his new “step-brother” will put an end to in a deluge of punches. Ruben is inhabited by this permanent rage, a thirst for violence which only asks to be quenched. Niall quickly understands that he is operating in a minefield with this new roommate, the polar opposite of his fearful personality. Fascinated as much as terrified, he will spend his life gravitating around this destructive force. To feed her, sometimes. To endure it, often.

Over thirty years, Half Man dissects the slow contamination of this relationship. A dizzying character study, built in constant back and forth, where trajectories cross, collide, then move away to better meet again. Niall and Ruben continue to influence each other, admire each other, envy each other, to the point of poisoning each other.

And it gives scenes of rare intensity. Electric face-to-faces. Eye-to-eye confrontations, long, stifling, where the threat of chaos cruelly hovers above their heads. Richard Gadd and Jamie Bell, in the adult roles, are impressive in their accuracy and contained brutality. A work which finds a disturbing echo in their young versions, played by Stuart Campbell and Mitchell Robertson. The mirror is chilling.

Half Man is a television event. A series that gets worse as it progresses, which refuses any easy catharsis. Like My Little Reindeer, she asks questions without ever trying to reassure. But she does so with a narrative power and a fury of interpretation that sweeps away everything in its path. Its representation of toxic male relationships overwhelms us, while we become passionate about these two shattered trajectories, shaped by years of violence, lack, emotional dependence.

We feel everything, from the slightest thrill of anger to the deepest pain. Even if these characters are locked in their flaws, almost impossible to understand and tame. This is perhaps why, ultimately – because we manage to put this distance – that the series remains watchable.

Like My Little Reindeer, Half Man is the kind of series that will be difficult to forget.

Half Man, mini-series in 6 episodes, to watch on HBO Max in France.