At the Halfway Point, ‘Half Man’ is the One to Beat

In 2024, Richard Gadd came seemingly from out of nowhere to deliver one of the most well-received (and disturbing) limited series in recent years: Baby Reindeer. Gadd, who created, wrote, and starred in the series, was a 35-year-old actor with little to no cache. That changed quickly with Baby Reindeer, a semi-autobiographical story about a failed comedian who embraces a stalker and attempts to come to terms with his sexuality and the abuse he suffered at the hands of a would-be mentor. The series was hailed by critics and won six Emmys (three for Gadd in the categories of writing, lead actor, and producer of a limited series).

Since Baby Reindeer completed its seven-episode run, Gadd had only been seen in a 21-minute short film called Truth Serum. On April 23, 2026, Gadd returned with his newest series, which he once again created, wrote, and stars in. As impressive as Baby Reindeer is, Gadd’s newest entry, Half Man, is even more so. I haven’t seen a series so troubling, nerve-jangling, and brilliant since Stephen Graham’s Adolescence. 

Half Man covers some of the same thematic territory as Baby Reindeer, in that it showcases a toxic relationship of two people who need each other, but at least one of them would be far better off without the co-dependency. The six-episode series begins with two boys in a Scottish high school moving on two very different tracks. Niall (a delicate Mitchell Robertson) and Ruben (played in a star-making turn by Stuart Campbell), a charismatic brute who is often intoxicatingly hilarious, but ultimately terrifying. 

Niall is a slight, closeted young man who is easily bullied. That is, until Ruben, the son of his mother’s best friend (and lover), joins his school. When a classmate hurls insults at Niall, the receiver passes it off as “banter.” That banter ends the next day when the bully calls his fellow louts off of Niall in the school hallway. He does so through fearful eyes, both of them blackened. 

What Ruben offers Niall is not just a protector, but everything Niall isn’t: bold, dangerous, and impulsive. For Ruben, Niall’s fearful worship, loyalty, and companionship give him purpose and meaning. Ruben is an antihero with a faithful sidekick. The lads become so close that they refer to each other as their “brother from another lover.”

Both boys are troubled in ways that aren’t entirely obvious, but are connected. Niall hides his attraction for other young men, while Ruben wears his masculinity like a coat of armor. Niall’s struggles are easier to understand (the high school sequences take place in the highly homophobic ‘80s), but what is the strapping Ruben trying to prove? 

Raised by single mothers with questionable parenting skills, the two boys have their fair share of troubles at home. Niall’s mother (an outstanding Neve McIntosh) is controlling and demeaning in equal measure, and often displays more care for Ruben than for her own son. Ruben’s mother (Marianne McIvor) is devoted to Ruben in a way that seems as if she’s trying to make up for something. She excuses his violent outbursts and expects Niall to defend Ruben after he savagely beats a classmate named Alby (Bilal Hasna), whom Niall (unbeknownst to Ruben) has feelings for. The subsequent court case creates a rift between Niall and Ruben that becomes the linchpin upon which the story turns.

Over the course of the show’s six episodes, Half Man rotates through parts of five decades (the late ‘80s to the present day), with undeniable stealth. Gadd’s writing is so crisp that there’s rarely more than a second or two of screen time where you don’t know exactly what era of their long-term, on-again/off-again you are in. The back half of Half Man becomes dominated by the adult Niall (Jamie Bell) and Ruben (an almost unrecognizable Richard Gadd). 

Robertson and Campbell are so outstanding as the youthful Niall and Ruben that one could be forgiven for doubting whether Bell and Gadd can match their counterparts. They do, and in spades. The adult Niall is a writer with genuine talent, but so full of self-loathing and lack of direction that he buries his gifts in drugs and promiscuity, using a library bathroom and a bathhouse as a place to have sex with other men, even while managing a heterosexual relationship with a woman who surely deserves better. Bell plays Niall fearlessly, never shying away from the pathetic behavior that comes to define his adulthood.

As good as Bell is, Gadd is a revelation. Gadd’s physical transformation from his reedy, unimposing Donny Dunn in Baby Reindeer to Ruben’s hulking beast of a man is astonishing. More significantly, Ruben’s trigger-switch brute is as terrifying as Donny was pitiable. Gadd is never less than completely believable. 

Ruben’s rage-fueled assaults place him in and out of prison, creating gaps in his relationship with Niall. More than a decade goes by before the two men reconnect, although it’s clear they linger in each other’s psyches during the extended gap. Ruben briefly appears to be getting his life together as an oil rigger, with a home and a wife to boot. The grudge Ruben holds against Niall unveils itself slowly, even diabolically. Yet, the same moth to the inferno pull remains between the two, and plays out in ways that defy expectation. 

In the fifth episode, after Niall commits an act of vandalism against Ruben’s car and then promptly crashes his own vehicle, ending up in a hospital bed, with Ruben awaiting his first waking moment. The intensity and brutality of their confrontation pack an almost surreal punch. The clang and clatter of Ruben’s attack on Niall is so roaring that I wondered if Niall is insane and that Ruben is a figment of his imagination—an alter-ego id in a mold not so dissimilar from that of Edward Norton and Brad Pitt in Fight Club (of all things). 

However extraordinary the hospital room sequence is, a twin-confession scene tops it in the sixth and final episode. Ruben, once again incarcerated, receives Niall as a visitor at the prison where Ruben is now housed. The initial tension of their meeting gives way as Niall and Ruben share their darkest secrets, and the mood swings to a jovial, even warmhearted one. That is to say, until Niall reveals a betrayal of Ruben that the troubled manchild cannot forgive. The change in Gadd’s expression has to be seen to be believed. But before that, when Ruben exposes not only the meaning behind the name of the series, but also a long-buried trauma that explains the source of his explosive anger. Without giving too much away, I’ll just say that the words, “Sometimes my body would respond,” that Gadd chokes out of his throat are not ones I will soon forget. 

That the series ends in tragedy is hardly a surprise. Half Man is uncompromising, bleak, and (like Adolescence) has the courage of its convictions. There are so many films and shows about characters overcoming adversity and finding a way forward in life. Half Man is the other kind. Half Man is about the broken things that don’t get fixed. At least not in this life. 

It’s also the best show of this half-year, and it’s going to be awfully hard to top. 

Half Man is a competitor for Emmys in the categories of Limited Series, Lead Actor, Supporting Actor, Supporting Actress, Writing, and Direction. All episodes of Hlaf Man are available to stream now on HBO.