TharnType: The Series

 
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“I have a hugely problematic fave, and that fave is BL.”


Title: TharnType: The Series
Episodes Reviewed: Season 1
Creator: MAME 👩🏻🇹🇭
Writer: MAME 👩🏻🇹🇭
Director: Tee Sintanaparadee 👨🏻🇹🇭

Reviewed by Li 👩🏻🇺🇸

—MILD SPOILERS AHEAD—

Technical: 4/5

I have a hugely problematic fave, and that fave is BL.

For the uninitiated, BL stands for “boys love,” a category of Asian dramas featuring gay romances whose popularity has skyrocketed in recent years. Its origins, however, have been around for decades. In the early ‘70s, a cohort of mostly female fans envisioned romance between Star Trek’s Captain Kirk and Commander Spock. Their written stories coined the term “slash,” named after the way the pairing was written as Kirk/Spock, and would go on to encompass more pairings and fandoms until the word itself became synonymous with any fanfiction that featured same-sex romance.

Across the globe, Japan was experiencing its own BL origins through yaoi comics, which also featured love stories between men created primarily by and for women. But no matter the medium or geography, what these stories had in common were themes of dramatic longing and wish fulfillment—romance staples that will never go out of style. It’s not surprising, then, that such tropes have found fertile ground in East and Southeast Asian dramas today.

One of such dramas includes TharnType, a Thai series based on the book by prolific writer MAME featuring two college roommates who fall in love. The twist: One is gay and proudly out, while the other is cussingly homophobic. What ensues would feel right at home on any soap opera or telenovela. Jealousy, misunderstandings, betrayal, and of course, fade-to-black love scenes all pack into the show’s 12 episodes.

But how does one grade a soap opera on technical prowess, anyway? BL dramas are rudimentary by the standards of American television, operating on a fraction of the budget. In addition, spotty acting comes with the territory as the genre voraciously seeks out young male talent, many in their teens or early twenties who may be using the trendy nature of BL to kickstart their acting careers. On this front, the stars of TharnType fare pretty well, especially impressive for newbie Gulf Kanawut as the homophobic character of Type. But Viola Davis, these actors are not.

If we’re judging by sheer magnetism, however, TharnType has it in spades. For one, the series tantalisingly reveals a doorway to a much larger narrative universe. With a multi-pronged attack not unlike that of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, MAME’s fictional world currently spans 12 novels, two television series—each with a sequel in the works—and an upcoming film. Together, these cross-referential works piece together a dizzying array of intertwined romances.

That alone proves incredibly addictive. And as someone who has spent her quarantine committing emotional vampirism through her television set, TharnType stands out due to its comprehensive, almost meta immersion into the relationship between not just the characters of the lovestruck musician Tharn and his roommate Type, but the actors who play them: Mew Suppasit and the aforementioned Gulf. While other BL stars don’t usually play coy about their heterosexuality, Mew and Gulf gamely refrain from breaking the fourth wall, using social media to publicly flirt and host cozy livestreams together. More than just an enjoyable drama full of fun tropes and good-looking actors, it’s this function as a gateway to a broader fantasy, of pretty boys in epic love, that holds the true allure of TharnType.

Gender: 2/5
Does it pass the Bechdel Test? NOPE

Unfortunately, there’s a reason why BL is a problematic fave. A huge discomfort arrives through the sheer gender inequality endorsed by the entire BL machine. It’s not just boys love: It’s boys cast, boys directors, boys-basically-everything. Even though MAME works as the master puppeteer of TharnType, her creation features not a single female character who appears in anything more than a tenuous supporting role. Type’s friends are all dudes, many of them paired off in BL narratives of their own. Among Tharn’s network, the only women we see include his mother, younger sister, and older friend Mai (Ice Penkawin) who co-owns a bar with her husband. Their roles are positive, but minor and entirely one-dimensional. 

Tellingly, the most we see of any woman comes through Tharn’s competition, Puifai (Eye Siwapohn). She stands in the way of Tharn’s courtship, but ultimately proves collateral damage as the reluctant Type undergoes his sexual awakening. After a heart wrenching bait-and-switch, on the day of Puifai’s birthday no less, she’s tossed out of the series the moment she’s outlasted her use. While the role of a shunned prospect can still be an interesting one, as seen in Love, Victor’s Mia Brooks (Rachel Hilson), Puifai enjoys no such depth. 

This flippant handling of female characters pervades BL, where shows regularly cast women as the token in a male group of friends; creeper fangirls who provide comedic relief; or as manipulative and jealous harpies. TharnType thankfully avoids the worst of such caricatures, but neither does it bother with women much at all. In one single show, this lopsidedness could be begrudgingly overlooked. But as an entire industry that churns out male-dominated dramas, my heart hurts for all the actresses who may be increasingly out of work thanks to a trend that unapologetically excludes women from the screen.

Race: 4/5

I’m sure TharnType and similar shows have sanitized and packaged Thai culture for global consumption. But like any good cultural export, whether it’s K-pop or Hollywood films or Japanese anime, TharnType may be the hook that inevitably piques curiosity about the country it originates from. Since many of these dramas are being translated and subtitled by fans with varying degrees of English language skills, extra context learned on one’s own enriches the experience. A world of difference separates the understanding of “P’Tharn” versus its translation of “Brother Tharn,” for example. Throughout this summer, I’ve casually read up on Thai language and customs, as well as its more sobering current events, if mostly to augment my BL viewings.

This isn’t to say all the cultural findings are good. Colorism, one of the world’s unifying obsessions, remains blithely unchecked in these dramas. If you found Indian Matchmaking’s voiced preferences for fair skin cringeworthy, well, gird your loins. Whether it’s TharnType, where Tharn’s American Thai family is associated with being rich and progressive, to protagonists in other series who explicitly praise pale skin and red lips (see: Pete from Love by Chance or Love Sick’s Noh), colorism runs rampant. The internalized racism is unfortunately part and parcel of Thai entertainment, and proves a rabbit hole for viewers interested in learning more about how events like the Vietnam War or Chinese wealth in Thailand all contribute to the status quo of skewed standards of beauty.

LGBTQ: 2/5

The theory that BL stories increase exposure to same-sex love and therefore normalize the LGBTQ community sounds wonderful. But by that logic, shouldn’t Japan, a country with decades of queer-friendly cartoons and comics, be further along than it is

I simply don’t buy that romances about men in love will make a dent when LGBTQ actors are actively discouraged from participating in their own stories. Rumors of homophobic practices in Thailand’s BL industry regularly surface, further distancing that idealized goal. In 2017, the producer of 2 Moons put out a casting call for straight actors, despite the gay roles being auditioned. Last year, a leading BL actor addressed fans’ questions about his sexuality by calling himself “a real man” in Turkic, for which his agency issued an apology

Thankfully, no such gaffes have marred the making of TharnType. In fact, the series has edged out its peers in one key way: by having actual representation in its main pairing. In 2018, Mew’s public outing by a previous co-star exploded in dramatic fashion. Though it’s not the way any person should be outed, as a result, it’s generally accepted knowledge now that Mew is either queer or at least open-minded about it. But before you get too excited, the series still has a long way to go before considering itself an agent of LGBTQ progress.

Issues of consent and poor handling of sexual assault are standard for the genre, and TharnType bends to these unsavory trends like a sapling whipped by a tornado. The eye-wincing setups begin early: Type’s backstory unfolds through flashbacks to his abduction and molestation as an 11-year-old boy, which the story posits as the reason why he verbally vomits hate speech. However, TharnType never critiques him on this behavior, and instead uses his trauma to excuse it. 

The big denouement of this subplot involves Type breaking down and sharing the sordid tale of his abuse in Episode 4, a confession that seems to exist solely for the purpose of giving Tharn the chance to hold and comfort a sobbing Type. While I love a good hurt/comfort scene, the dubious foundation upon which this one’s built feels conflicting to watch.

 
Type: “I hate people like you.”

Type: “I hate people like you.”

Tharn: “It’s okay to hate me.”

Tharn: “It’s okay to hate me.”

 

No, Tharn—it’s not okay for Type to hate gay people! Not even when it’s because of childhood trauma!

This hardly constitutes the worst of it. I could detail every mishandling of consent, like how this kiss does not inspire the warm and fuzzies, or how the show tenderly humanizes someone who hired a bunch of men to gang rape a high schooler. But that’s another essay for another day because truly, I lack the strength.

Ultimately, it’s hard to see how the practice of almost always hiring straight (or closeted) actors for gay roles in BL constitutes anything but a fetishization of queerness. Until dramas can take a cue from more inclusive titles, like 2018’s Bangkok Love Stories: Innocence—which has its own flaws but does buck norms by featuring a love interest who isn’t lily-white and includes a positive supporting role for a trans male actor—I have a hard time seeing how the current crop of BL dramas translates to anything positive for LGBTQ communities on the ground.

Mediaversity Grade: C 3.00/5

As someone who’s been following slash fandom since declaring Harry/Draco her OTP in the early aughts, I have few qualms about people daydreaming about cute gay ships. And let’s be clear, the MewGulf ship from TharnType is cute AF

But when it comes to the more concrete world of systemic inequality—and when jobs and economic opportunities for marginalized communities are at stake—the daydream comes with some major caveats that I’d love to see BL creators address. 

I know change is possible. I’ve seen it happen in fanfiction, which has largely excised, or at least thrown behind trigger warnings, the misogyny and abuse that used to underpin much of slash in the name of “romance.” A lot more awareness simply exists among writers today. If BL sticks around, let’s hope creators like MAME and others follow suit.


Like TharnType? Try these other gay romances.

Love, Victor - Season 1

Love, Victor - Season 1

Call Me By Your Name (2017)

Call Me By Your Name (2017)

I Carry You With Me (2020)

I Carry You With Me (2020)