In the first season finale of This Close, the groundbreaking Sundance TV series co-created by and starring Josh Feldman and Shoshannah Stern, Feldman’s character Michael gets hit by a car. Don’t worry, though — he recovers. This Close, which returned for an outstanding second season earlier this month, is a buddy comedy at heart about figuring out adulthood, in the vein of Looking or Broad City. The thing is, Michael doesn’t hear the car coming. Like Feldman and Stern, the characters they play are deaf.
The 2018 debut of This Close broke a lot of barriers, as the first series created by and starring deaf artists. For an openly gay writer and creator like Feldman to star as an openly gay character remains a rarity in Hollywood, too. By nature of being true-to-life, the series shows viewers everyday challenges inherent to being deaf. Some may seem obvious, like needing someone to face you in order to read their lips, or to retain use of both hands in order to sign effectively. Others, like public moments of social isolation or barriers faced to getting ahead at work, only come from spending some time in deaf characters’ shoes.
But Michael and Kate (played by Stern) are of course much more than the sum of their differences. They’re best friends who know each other inside out, make highly questionable relationship choices, and are still working out what they want to be when they grow up. (Michael is a writer and graphic artist; Kate’s in PR.) Being deaf — and in Michael’s case, both deaf and gay — isn’t the source of the Big Problems they face over the course of the series. It’s being naive and hopeful and horny and confused and tired, like any other young person on the planet (and maybe especially a young person in L.A.) that gets them into trouble.
Yes, Michael gets run over because he can’t hear the car coming. But the inner demons that lead him to pop pain meds and slug white wine from the bottle reach far deeper than his being deaf or gay. In season 2, back on his feet but quickly spiraling toward rock bottom, Michael is the one who has to realize that for himself in order to grow up.
“That was really important,” Feldman tells them. over email, “the realization that Michael has been leaning on his differences as a crutch.” When he ultimately seeks help at a rehab center, Michael doesn’t consider himself anything like the other addicts. Even after an interpreter arrives to facilitate his communication with the group, Michael is obstinate that no one there would be able to understand him. It’s a common mindset reflected in addiction narratives among abled people as well; Michael is pretty much serving us his best Sandra Bullock in 28 Days. A tough counselor calls it “unicorn syndrome” — the idea that Michael’s experience is so unique it inoculates him from connection or rebuke — and urges him to snap out of it.
“As deaf people, we often can be treated a particular way by others because of our disability,” Feldman says. “But we thought it was important to acknowledge that sometimes we can use that as a crutch to get away with certain things.” In Micheal’s case, he tries to use his differences as a shield against opening up to recovery, when the series has done little to suggest that Michael’s addiction has anything to do with them. He has a lot going for him, including a hunky, rich, and eagerly supportive partner (played by Colt Prattes). As viewers, we’re also in a position to recognize that Michael needs to snap out of it.
