Queer As Folk New Series Better
You cannot make a better Queer as Folk without addressing the elephant in the room: the characters. The 2000s show had a perfect storm of casting. Gale Harold’s Brian was a masculine, emotionally unavailable icon; Randy Harrison’s Justin was the wide-eyed artist; Scott Lowell’s Ted was the desperate romantic; Peter Paige’s Emmett was the effervescent queen.
A new series cannot simply recast Brian Kinney. That character belongs to his era. Instead, a better show would create a new archetype: the "Apocalypse Queen." This character would be in their late 20s, having grown up with Grindr, PrEP, and Trump. They are not closeted at work but are deeply cynical about marriage equality because they see the rising tide of fascism. They are not a "sad queer" but a nihilistic party monster who uses sex and drugs to cope with climate change and political backlash. That is the 2020s Brian Kinney: not a corporate climber, but a survivor of a world that never got easier.
The original series (both UK and US) was revolutionary for its time, but looking back, it is undeniably narrow in its scope. It centered almost exclusively on affluent, cisgender, white gay men. Lesbians, bisexuals, and people of color were often relegated to the sidelines or used as plot devices.
The reboot fundamentally corrects this tunnel vision. queer as folk new series better
Rewatching the original is a nostalgic trip, but it looks and sounds like a soap opera shot on cheap digital video. The lighting is harsh, the editing is dated, and the club music—while fun—has aged poorly.
The new series is visually stunning. It utilizes cinematic lighting, intimate close-ups, and a soundtrack that actually reflects modern queer club culture (think Arca, Shygirl, and Dorian Electra). It feels expensive and intentional, giving the drama the weight it deserves.
In the original, a character like Emmett (flamboyant and effeminate) was often the punchline. In the new series, a character like Shar (a Black, non-binary diva) is the heart of the show. The new Queer as Folk understands that you can't separate queerness from race, disability, or class. When the characters argue about "who gets to be visible" or who is "queer enough," it’s actual dialogue happening in the community today. You cannot make a better Queer as Folk
In the pantheon of LGBTQ+ television, few titles carry the weight, the controversy, and the lasting legacy of Queer as Folk. Originally a blistering, groundbreaking UK series by Russell T. Davies in 1999, it was reinvented for North American audiences by Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman from 2000 to 2005. That US/Canadian co-production—set in Pittsburgh, filmed in Toronto, and starring Gale Harold, Randy Harrison, and Sharon Gless—became a cultural touchstone. It was raw, explicit, political, and unapologetically hedonistic.
Then came 2022. Peacock released a second Queer as Folk reboot, set in New Orleans, created by Stephen Dunn. Despite a diverse and talented cast, it was canceled after a single season. The reception was mixed; many felt it was trying too hard to be safe, polite, or "educational" in a post-Heartstopper world.
But here is the thesis of this article: A successful Queer as Folk for the 2020s is not only possible—it could be better than the original. The key is not to emulate the 2000s show’s specific aesthetic, but to revive its revolutionary spirit. The new series failed not because the concept is dated, but because it pulled its punches. Here is the blueprint for a new Queer as Folk series that would not just exist, but dominate. Best understood as complementary: The revival does not
The 2022 reboot had trans and nonbinary characters, which was a strength. But many critics noted they were often used as "wise sages" or vessels for trauma. A better iteration would give trans characters the same license to be flawed that cis gay men had in the 2000s.
Imagine a trans male character who is a total slut—not because he’s proving his masculinity, but because he loves sex. Imagine a nonbinary character who is selfish, ambitious, and neglects their friends. The original Queer as Folk was great because it showed gay men as bastards and saints. A new series needs to extend that same humanity to the full spectrum of the LGBTQ+ community. Let trans characters be unlikable. That’s equality.