The first episode of Please Like Me—an Australian series created by and starring comedian Josh Thomas, as a barely fictionalized version of himself—observes Josh, a gay twentysomething, coming to terms with his sexuality. His girlfriend Claire (Caitlin Stasey) ends their relationship in the very first scene, bluntly explaining that he’s probably not attracted to women. Moments later, while visiting his friend Tom (Thomas Ward) at work to break the news, Josh meets the glance of the gorgeous new guy in the office, Geoffrey (Wade Briggs). (Geoffrey’s apparent interest is especially surprising to Josh, who describes his own physical appearance as that of a “50-year-old baby.”) It’s all very matter of fact. Indeed, there’s no frenzy or catharsis that comes with Josh’s coming out; it’s dryly funny, treated more as an amusingly casual self-reckoning than as a life-changing awakening.
Please Like Me’s rhythms are, in that sense, unconventional. As directed by Matthew Saville, its pace is gradual, its comedy found in conversation and circumstance rather than punchlines and set pieces. But these traits, however valuable and well-executed, don’t always appeal to major content distributors; while the low-key, naturalistic half-hour has become widespread enough to inspire an SNL parody, Please Like Me’s aversion to typical dramatic beats still feels defiantly noncommercial. And this is the predicament that the show finds itself in right now: It’s currently without a U.S. network to call home. The series aired on American TV for three years on Pivot, a millennial-oriented channel that was shut down in August after failing to break out with viewers. Its fourth season is completed and set to make a November debut in Australia, where the show has won countless major awards and acclaim. But Josh Thomas tweeted in August that Please Like Me is currently “homeless” stateside, and executive producer Kevin Whyte recently told me that while he’s in discussions and is “confident that Season 4 will find a home,” nothing has come through yet.
And that should change—fast. Please Like Me weaves an array of delicate topics into an expression that’s subtle but bold for TV. Josh’s sexual development is tracked alongside his mother Rose’s (Debra Lawrence) struggles with clinical depression, which are first indicated by her attempted suicide in the pilot. Both subjects are depicted unexpectedly, with sensitivity and the show’s distinctive brand of humor. Thomas destigmatizes characters we think we already know: the incapable mother, the distant father, the closeted son.
Fortunately, Please Like Me’s third season launched earlier this month for American audiences on Hulu. As it begins, Josh moves on from the hunky-but-empty Geoffrey—as well as Patrick (Charles Cottier), whose “straight guy” appeal plays right into Josh’s awkward stage of sexuality in Season 2—and falls hard for Arnold (Keegan Joyce), a rich kid with a history of psychiatric hospital visits not unlike Josh’s mother’s. Before long, they’re in a complicated, full-fledged relationship. The season meditates on love, commitment, and queer identity in a contemporary context, telling an intimately familiar story within a provocative frame.
The season finds Josh and Arnold contending with, among other things, modern debates over monogamy. “You know how when you were a kid, and you thought you had to grow up and marry a girl and have kids,” Arnold asks Josh before formally proposing an open relationship. “And then you slowly realized that was impossible and everything you’d imagined for your future just fell away?” It’s a wistful line of questioning. Arnold and Josh have been dating for a while; despite the bumps along the way, they share deep affection. But they don’t share perspective. Arnold firmly rebuffs Josh’s belief in exclusivity, arguing that successful monogamous partnerships aren’t exactly a dime-a-dozen, and that the institution is a tad “archaic,” anyway.
Their discussion is messy, quiet, aching—like an admission of imperfection—but also full of raw honesty. The show’s nuances can be credited to how richly drawn both characters are, particularly in scenes like this, even as its themes feel universal. Josh and Arnold have learned that who they can be and what they can do in life is suddenly not predetermined, and in many ways, that’s a good thing. But with less rigidity comes less clarity.
Please Like Me captures this tension from its very first episode, as Josh’s coming out leaves him not exiled or freed but somewhere in the middle, in the unknown. The show widens its lens from there. The episodes preceding Arnold’s “open” plea reveal that Mae (Renee Lim), the longtime girlfriend of Josh’s dad Alan (David Roberts), has cheated, and observe Rose and her former hospital-mate Hannah (Hannah Gadsby) try but fail to break out of their destructive habits. So much of Please Like Me is focused on that generational divide. Josh and his millennial circle realize that their parents and elders don’t know exactly what they’re doing either and that they never really did, and that, as a consequence, there’s no ideal model to work from. Accordingly, the show benefits from its relatively young creator’s intelligence, curiosity, and experience. It explores coming of age as well as being of age, functioning alternately as a family farce, a hangout spot for friends, and—particularly in Season 3—a wise and sometimes dark romantic comedy.
Please Like Me goes down easy, though; it’s so comfortable and lived-in that its depth can sneak up on you. The show doesn’t announce its ambitions so much as allow them to naturally play out, within its comic-realist aesthetic. It can feel radically ordinary. Much of Season 3—and the whole show, really—is about life not going exactly as planned and making up for those disappointments in small but potent ways: cheering up your heartbroken dad, reflecting comfortably with your old flame, supporting your close friend on what feels like one of the worst days of her life. Please Like Me is a warm series brimming with humor but also a smart one that embraces challenge and difficulty—that provides fresh, even vital gay stories and that is unafraid to expand as it ages. American audiences deserve a chance to continue watching it grow.
