Judging from my social media feeds, Heated Rivalry still has the girlies in a chokehold nearly five months after its debut. I’ve only watched the surprise hit show once, but I absolutely understand why it captivated people so thoroughly. The word that keeps coming to mind is “beautiful”; its cinematography, its emotional depth, and its stars, Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams. These two men are currently riding the kind of wave of “overnight” fame and success that every actor must dream of. They’re attending Milan Fashion Week with Ricky Martin, presenting together at the Golden Globes, and being really charming while hosting SNL. It’s been really lovely to see.

Connor and Hunter have also been part of an increasingly annoying and off-base conversation about the female gaze. That conversation crash-landed into another of my high-interest objects, Peloton, when Hudson starred in their latest (and absolute best) ad.

Ten million views and counting. He simply is the moment.

I know that language evolves. I know that. And I know that it’s unreasonable to expect people to care about the film theory origins of phrases they use online, especially when we’re in a golden age of misused psychology terms.¹ But I’ve let myself stay annoyed at how “the female gaze” gets used, because I think its original meaning is so much more interesting.

Colloquially, “the female gaze” has come to mean something that was created with a straight female audience in mind, or someone that straight women find attractive, often in spite of what straight men think straight women find attractive. My favourite example of this is a 2022 tweet from @tacticaldipshit that reads, “it's incredibly funny to me that incels are like "you have to be a Uber Chad to get women because of hypergamy" when every single hot girl I know is like "I would let Matt Berry hit raw no questions asked".”² My least favourite example of this is TikTok chefs like this guy. You cannot subvert objectification with more objectification. Women objectifying men is not dismantling the patriarchy so much as just trying the patriarchy on for a moment to see how it feels.

But, women yelling “THIS is the female gaze!” online about famously chiseled movie star Ryan Gosling wearing an ugly sweater, while technically incorrect, is getting us closer to what the female gaze is really about.

The male gaze uses the camera to depict female subjects as objects—objects of desire, yes, but even more specifically, objects to be controlled and commodified. With the male gaze, the camera frames women in a way that demands their submission to a male audience, often reducing them to their body parts in order to diminish their humanity and emphasize their vulnerability.

At its most basic level, the female gaze is a rejection of the male gaze. It’s a gaze based in empathy, that allows its subjects their full humanity. Joey Soloway was not the first person to define this term, but their keynote speech at the 2016 Toronto International Film Festival is the most comprehensive and applicable exploration that I’ve come to know:

But we’re talking about visuals, so let me give a visual example: the difference in how directors Patty Jenkins and Joss Whedon film Wonder Woman, aka Diana.

In Jenkins’s Wonder Woman, Diana’s humanity is always centered. It’s a superhero movie, so it’s not a terribly complicated humanity; we can boil it down to her physical strength and her childlike earnestness. Every shot Diana is in frames her to reinforce at least one of those things. Even when the camera is focused on her body, it’s to show off her strength, not to turn her into a sexual object. The camera is in awe of her.

In Whedon’s Justice League, Diana is part of a bro’d out ensemble. She’s no longer the star; she’s now The Token Female Member In An Action-Adventure Team, and her job is to kick. And so, the camera is no longer in awe of her, let alone humanizing her; it’s too busy objectifying her “as a joke.”

Ryan Gosling in Project Hail Mary appears female gaze-coded because he is affectionate, approachable, and openly emotional. Shawn Hatosy reading chef-related smut appears female gaze-coded because the smut is written with straight female pleasure in mind. Neither of these is a proper example of the female gaze, but they are examples of healthy masculinity that de-centers patriarchal tropes and values. So I grudgingly understand why it all gets folded into the same “female gaze” category.

So now, back to Hudson’s Peloton ad. Is this piece of marketing something that was made with a straight female consumer in mind, or is it an example of the true female gaze? Actually, both!

Director Bethany Vargas, who directed last summer’s viral (and awesome) KATSEYE Gap ad, has a great way with horny and personality-forward choreography. This ad opens with a montage of objectification: a shot of Hudson’s ass in little white shorts. A close-up on his sweaty jaw and neck. A shot looking slightly down at his chest and shoulders. A shot parallel with his torso as his lifts his tank top to show off his abs and wipe his face, which is above the frame. When we finally get a full body shot, it’s of Hudson spinning rapturously on his treadmill as the camera swirls down to meet him.

And that’s the moment when Hudson goes from object to subject, because that’s the moment that the ad stops being about his body and starts being about his experience of his body. The rest of the 60-second spot shows Hudson dance, jog, lift weights (with Peloton star Tunde Oyeneyin!), and generally exult in his physicality.

And the final shot before the ad copy rolls is of Hudson looking straight at the camera, exhausted, confident, satisfied. He sees us, seeing him. And he welcomes it.

The camera does reduce Hudson to his body parts quite often, especially in the opening montage. But for the most part, the shots and framing are meant to emphasize his personality, his enjoyment of his own body, and his willing, active participation in being sexualized.

For a counterpoint, let’s check out Connor’s delightfully silly Verizon ad “Look Behind You.” Director Nia DaCosta has a lot of fun bringing tank top horror back, and putting Connor’s ass in the Final Girl seat.

As befits the tank top horror genre, here the camera moves to emphasize Connor’s beauty and vulnerability. He is uneasy, and constantly menaced by loud noises, spooky phone calls, and an overall lack of control. We get a lot of shots showing his tight tank top failing to reach the waistband of his tight jeans, and a LOT of shots pushing in on his famous ass. Which winds up being the joke—his phone is in his back pocket (LEFT CHEEK!), and the phone rubbing against his ass has been causing all the spooky disruptions. He actually was in control all along!

This is a female director using the male gaze on a male subject, and it’s all very cheeky. I mean, tongue-in-cheek. I mean, RELAX. Anyway, it’s not the female gaze, is my point.

This kind of masculinity is so refreshing right now, against the backdrop of the manosphere-addled administration full of men who use their pregnant wives as human shields against potential gunfire and who generally look like the guys who trigger your instinct to cover your drink. Men like Hudson and Connor, who wears their masculinity so lightly, feel very special. So, too, do female directors riffing on the male gaze and using the female gaze, making their subjects’ sexuality something human-based to participate in, rather than to own. It feels like the kind of energy that actually could help dismantle the patriarchy.