News

‘Deal with the Devil’: Harvard Medical School Faculty Grapple with Increased Industry Research Funding

News

As Dean Long’s Departure Looms, Harvard President Garber To Appoint Interim HGSE Dean

News

Harvard Students Rally in Solidarity with Pro-Palestine MIT Encampment Amid National Campus Turmoil

News

Attorneys Present Closing Arguments in Wrongful Death Trial Against CAMHS Employee

News

Harvard President Garber Declines To Rule Out Police Response To Campus Protests

A Modern Retelling of ‘High Fidelity’ Raises the Bar for Romantic Comedies

Zoë Kravitz as protagonist Rob Brooks in the new Hulu television show, "High Fidelity."
Zoë Kravitz as protagonist Rob Brooks in the new Hulu television show, "High Fidelity." By Courtesy of Phillip Caruso/Hulu
By Jaden S. Thompson, Crimson Staff Writer

Hulu’s new series “High Fidelity” is the latest adaptation of Nick Hornby’s novel of the same name, which, since its 1995 publication, has inspired a film starring John Cusack in 2000 and a Broadway musical in 2006. This latest interpretation, a series of 10 half-hour episodes, is a revitalizing gender-swapped version of the story. It stars Zoë Kravitz as Rob, the self-absorbed yet likable owner of a Brooklyn record shop called Championship Vinyl, where the only other employees are her two best friends, Simon (David H. Holmes) and Cherise (Da’vine Joy Randolph). Feeling introspective after another failed relationship — her recent breakup with boyfriend Russell “Mac” McCormack (Kingsley Ben-Adir) is particularly jarring — Rob is moved to contact everyone from her top five heartbreak list to find out why she’s so unlucky with love. While honoring the uniquely original premise of its source material, “High Fidelity” is a candid and modern rendition fit for 2020, complete with an evocative soundtrack — ranging from Fleetwood Mac to Prince to Frank Ocean — that underscores the timeless story of painful heartbreak and emotional maturation.

Rob is almost presented as an antihero to viewers. She has a penchant for abandoning dates by sneaking out of a restaurant mid-meal, and she tends to tune out her friends in conversations, forever preoccupied with her own issues. She’s often cold to the incessantly sweet Clyde, the new-in-town “nice guy” played by Jake Lacy. He’s obviously been typecast for the role, but who’s complaining? In a rather tender moment, straight-laced Clyde even steals a rare original pressing of a David Bowie record for her. For all her imperfections, however, Rob is still an everywoman, as Kravitz brings even more likability to the character than John Cusack before her. Zoë Kravitz is a magnetic and natural actress; perhaps she’s inherited some on-screen talent from parents Lenny Kravitz and Lisa Bonet (who, coincidentally, starred in the original film opposite Cusack), but she brings a down-to-earth coolness to the role that is definitively her own. She’s effortlessly relatable, perhaps not in spite of, but because of her own status as a 29-year-old with plenty of growing up to do.

By the end of episode four, Rob is already done confronting everyone on her heartbreak list, from the hilariously pseudo-intellectual Kat Monroe (Ivanna Sakhno) to seventh grade “boyfriend” Kevin Bannister (Clark Furlong). This leaves the series with ample time to follow Rob and her friends Simon and Cherise in their adventures across New York City, even as she continues to obsess over ex-boyfriend Mac, who’s just moved back to town with his new fiancée.

Rob wouldn’t be Rob without the updated versions of Championship Vinyl’s two dedicated employees, both of whom were originally white guys named Dick and Barry. Simon, number three on Rob’s top five heartbreak list, dated Rob until she caught him giving his number to a man at the laundromat (“I guess I’m gay,” he confesses to her in a flashback). Despite their messy breakup, Rob and Simon remain close friends because of their mutual love of music, and their endearing bond is made believable by the actors’ easy chemistry. Simon is a fully realized character who even gets an entire episode dedicated to his own Top Five heartbreak list, a quick but enjoyable divergence from Rob’s emotional turmoil. Cherise, another gender-swapped character, is played by the electric Da’Vine Joy Randolph, who puts the comedy in the show’s categorization of romantic-comedy. Randolph dishes out pithy one-liners with her hilarious mannerisms as a loyal and opinionated aspiring musician who doesn't seem to actually make music. Her character is infectiously effervescent, especially when she dances in the record shop to “Come on Eileen” by Dexys Midnight Runners.

With diversity clearly a priority in the casting and writing of the series, 2020’s “High Fidelity” is truly an adaptation for the current age. Even the arguments between the trio at Championship Vinyl have been smartly updated for the new decade. “This person who’s clearly never been on the Internet is trying to buy a Michael Jackson album for her boyfriend,” Cherise tells Rob with contempt as she tries to refuse the customer the record. Other modern touches include Rob impulsively texting a Spotify playlist to her ex and stalking his fiancée’s Instagram, humorously capturing the frustrating reality of breakups in the era of social media.

“High Fidelity” is a breezy watch, somehow lighthearted and funny while still maintaining the depth that makes it a story worth retelling in so many forms. Perhaps the most satisfying aspect of the show is Rob’s character development — she’s been selfish, and she knows it. Kravitz easily brings her dynamic character to life as she grows into a more self-aware and considerate person, showing refreshing accountability worth even more than the original pressing of a David Bowie record.

—Staff writer Jaden Thompson can be reached at jaden.thompson@thecrimson.com.

Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.

Tags
ArtsTV