Hulu’s High Fidelity Is a Universal Valentine’s Day Watch For Both Hopeless Romantics and Cynics

Valentine’s Day: you either love it or hate it, or maybe you’re indifferent towards it. Every February 14th, this holiday never fails to stir up some form of debate between the lovers and the skeptics. For some, it’s a day full of sweet gestures and heart-shaped decor, a celebration of love in all its forms, romantic or otherwise; for others, it’s more of an eye-roll-inducing affair, an over-commercialized Hallmark event with little substance. It seems rather obvious that, on the designated day of love, audiences would maybe lean towards an ooey-gooey romantic comedy to try and get in the mood. But unfortunately, those can sometimes feel excessively saccharine. 

Enter Hulu’s High Fidelity, a television remake of both Nick Hornby’s 1995 novel and Stephen Frears’ 2000 film of the same name. In an era where almost everything nowadays is IP, reboots tread a precarious path, often relying too heavily on nostalgia to really break through the mold. However, while most others falter, High Fidelity thrives because it not only reimagines but also enhances the original source material. Adapted by Veronica West and Sarah Kucserka, the one-season series effortlessly straddles the line between traditional rom-com and heartfelt dramedy. It’s a show that simultaneously captures the giddiness of falling in love as well as the feeling of post-breakup misery while lonely in the city, making it the perfect middle ground for hopeless romantics and cynics alike. 

The overarching premise of both the film and the show are pretty much the same: in the aftermath of a brutal breakup, a pretentious record store owner named Rob dwells over their “Desert Island, All-Time, Top Five Most Memorable Heartbreaks” in search for answers about why they feel doomed to always be left. In both renditions, Rob remains the same insufferably narcissistic asshole who can’t handle commitment. The biggest and most crucial difference is that whereas Movie Rob (played by John Cusack) was a straight white man, TV Rob (short for Robin and played by Zöe Kravitz) is in the body of a biracial, sexually fluid, millennial woman. 

Like in the film, Rob spends an excessive amount of time reminiscing over her recent ex, Mac (Kingsley Ben-Adir). It’s been a year since the breakup, but the wound remains fresh. She texts him a meticulously curated heartbreak playlist, heavily spirals over his new fiancée (“WHAT F*CKING LILY GIRL?!”), and even goes as far as showing up at his apartment in hopes of rehashing the past. Talk about messy!

High Fidelity is, of course, so much more than a gender-swapped reboot. The series places an emphasis on fleshing out Rob’s platonic relationships alongside her romantic ones. In contrast to the film, where characters like Dick (Todd Louiso) and Barry (Jack Black) were mostly defined by Movie Rob’s tolerance towards them, the long-form storytelling structure of episodic television provides space for a more nuanced exploration into characters like Simon (David Holmes) and Cherise (Da’Vine Joy Randolph). Episode 8 (“Ballad of the Lonesome Loser”) is a welcome interlude away from Rob’s inner monologue of woe. Instead, it follows Simon recounting his own top five heartbreaks, all of which contributed to his jaded outlook on love and were administered by the same guy—a lawyer named Ben. Meanwhile, Cherise hides her insecurities about her musical aspirations with an over-the-top, no f*cks given attitude. It’s disappointing that she didn’t receive her own episode considering that, had the show not been canceled back in 2020, Season 2 would have been centered completely on Cherise, her past loves, and her family background.

The episodic format also enhances the show’s romance greatly, as viewers are given more time to grow attached to the characters. That same logic applies to why so many sitcom and teen drama couples have remained such a fixture within online discourse—think New Girl’s Nick/Jess, The O.C.’s Seth/Summer, or Gilmore Girls’ Luke/Lorelai, just to name a few. Since we’re able to experience their relationships develop alongside the characters themselves, each of these duos boast a slow burn, will-they/won’t-they dynamic that makes their eventual romance all the more worthwhile. 

Rob’s quasi-relationship with nice guy Clyde (Jake Lacy) is the closest the show veers into rom-com territory. In Episode 5, Rob ropes Clyde into chauffeuring her to the Upper West Side, where the duo meet Noreen (Parker Posey), an eccentric artist looking to sell her cheating husband’s prized record collection for a crisp $20. However, Rob can’t stomach the idea of taking hundreds of pristine vinyls from a fellow music lover due to her own guilt over her past mistakes. Even after she and Clyde confirm with their own eyes (and ears) that Noreen’s husband is a mansplaining, misogynistic creep, Rob is unable to shake her existential crisis and—to her own dismay—frustratingly sides with the bad guy. While it starts off as a free ride from one borough to another, the trip turns out to be a lovely impromptu date, with Clyde even “stealing” a rare Bowie record for her. Soon after, the two develop an easy, flirty friendship. 

With Clyde, Rob can’t rely on the notion that shared interests are the most important part of a relationship, especially considering the fact that they have practically nothing in common (he listens to Phish, for Christ’s sake!). Instead, Clyde is simple, kind, and most importantly, he likes Rob. But Rob, too caught up in her own self-pitying bullshit, can’t stop obsessing over Mac, and is ultimately unable to see how her actions hurt the people around her. By the end of the season, after some heavy introspection and a truly terrible 30th birthday, Rob finally relinquishes Mac’s control over her heart and even attempts to pursue a real friendship with poor, sweet Clyde. While he’s firm in his rejection, he eventually relents that they have about a 9% chance of reconciling. Despite the low odds, the series concludes with Rob remaining optimistic about her chances, and it’s the first (and last) time we see her actively choosing to grow up. 

High Fidelity stands as a universal series that defies categorization. The series paints a realistic portrait of a flawed woman still in the process of mastering the art of love and grappling with her own shortcomings. It’s not just a love story, nor is it a straightforward breakup tale. Rather, it’s a rich character study about learning to navigate heartbreak, intimacy, and the general chaos that comes with saying goodbye to your twenties. What’s more romantic than that? 

Dianna Shen is an entertainment writer based in New York. Her writing has appeared in Paste Magazine, Primetimer, Consequence, and Decider, among other publications. When she’s not crying over a rom-com, she can be found @ddiannashen. 

For all the latest TV news, reviews, lists and features, follow @Paste_TV.