Can ‘Queer Eye’ Rediscover Its Mojo By Moving To Texas?

Five entire seasons, a Japanese spin-off and Aussie special. Cameos in everything from Taylor Swift promos to Joe Biden’s presidential campaign. All the autobiographies, other reality show appearances and relentless thirst traps (hello Antoni). By the time the Queer Eye gang took a long overdue, if enforced, break from our screens last year, it felt as though they’d been around for as long as the original Fab Five. In fact, they’d only been advocating such life-changing life hacks as the French tuck and “Spray, delay, walk away” since 2018.

It would be difficult for any show that had screened 47 hour-long episodes in just two years to avoid a sense of fatigue, let alone one that stuck to such a rigid formula. Indeed, even Jonathan Van Ness, the series’ permanently excitable breakout star, appeared to be simply going through the motions, his signature “Yass Queen” calls sounding more and more like “Meh.”

The jewel in Netflix’s reality crown would have stayed on the treadmill had it not been for the small matter of a worldwide pandemic – its sixth season opener was already pretty much in the can before lockdown gave the quintet no other option but to finally get off. But after an 18-month absence (bar a YouTube-only special in the summer), a refreshed Karamo, Bobby, Antoni, Tan and JVN are now staging their comeback and, rather aptly, at a time synonymous with change.

Ushering in the New Year, Queer Eye‘s latest batch of ten episodes was initially supposed to center on the move to Austin, Texas: even its “Keeps Getting Better” theme tune has been banjo-fied just to hammer the point home. And while participants such as Terri, a Daisy Dukes-wearing line-dancer who provides the season’s best home makeover reaction (“Well, slap my butt”), and Josh, a Matthew McConaughey soundalike cattle rancher who lives almost entirely on Wagyu beef, certainly fit the brief, it’s inevitably the response to the coronavirus that gives this season its true USP.

The gang work their magic on several individuals whose lives have revolved around, or been heavily affected, by the virus. Jereka, a proud workaholic doctor who founded a COVID-19 testing center for her underprivileged community, may well be one of the show’s most awe-inspiring heroes to date: it’s little wonder Jonathan suggests she should follow in the footsteps of her own idols, the Obamas, and run for president.

There’s also the beret-clad Sarah who had the misfortune to open her own Asian bakery just a week before the disease took hold. And then there’s the charming Juan P. Navarro High School class of 2021 who, after spending their final year studying at home over Zoom, are determined to stage the prom night of all prom nights. You’d need a heart of stone not to shed at least one tear watching them dance all their cares away while dressed up to the nines.

Of course, turning on the waterworks has never been a problem for the Queer Eye lot. Yet in recent seasons, the constant weeping has felt contrived. Even Tan, who’d previously admitted that as a Brit he was the most repressed of them all, seemed determined to well up at every opportune moment. The stories here, though, don’t require any emotional manipulation, and that goes for those that aren’t strongly connected with the pandemic, too.

The episode starring the exhausted owner of a special needs animal shelter (be prepared for the blind goat who follows its furry friend around via a bell) which provides therapy for special needs kids is so naturally heart-warming it could be prescribed as an anti-depressant. And although Karamo’s meddling can sometimes verge on the exploitative (did season 4’s Wes really need to meet the man who shot and paralyzed him?), the family reunion he facilitates for trans woman Angel is genuinely life-affirming television.

After a year away pursuing various solo ventures (it’s a toss-up between Bobby posing as a caterpillar in The Masked Singer and Jonathan writing a children’s book about a non-binary guinea pig for the most surreal) the five experts themselves also appear re-energized and happy to be in each other’s company again.

Admittedly, their roles haven’t changed that much in the interim. Bobby still gets the short shrift by doing 95 percent of the hard labor (you can now add building a barn from scratch to his resume) yet receiving only five percent of the screentime. Tan still hasn’t learned that half-tucking a shirt in is a terrible look, Jonathan still steals the show as a confidence-boosting quote machine and Karamo is still determined to shoehorn in countless self-help platitudes (broken crayons still color, anyone?) with each tête-à-tête.

However, Antoni (by far the member least surplus to requirements) gets a rare chance to justify his place in the group, with his twist on gumbo bringing together a widowed Crayfish restaurant owner and his heir apparent daughter (further proving that kindly but grizzly old men are bizarrely the gang’s forte).

Not every transformation reaps the same rewards. The hyper-masculine Josh (a man who believes eating chicken is a sign of weakness) is an amiable figure, yet his obvious discomfort with the whole experience means he doesn’t make for the most compelling of candidates. While BlackLight, a rapper who’s simply lost his creative spark, seems like an odd choice to conclude a series that’s otherwise defined by acts of genuine heroism or hardship.

Queer Eye hasn’t always been so successful when bringing grand real-life issues into its happy, ‘henny’ world – remember that misjudged All Lives Matter convo between Karamo and the MAGA cop? Thankfully, there’s little tone-deaf about its handling of the most universal issue of them all in a return-to-form which proves the Fab Five can still make the TV equivalent of a much-needed big warm hug. But, and this is meant with the utmost respect, let’s hope we don’t see them again until this time next year.

Queer Eye Season 6 will debut on Netflix on Friday, December 31, 2021.

Jon O’Brien (@jonobrien81) is a freelance entertainment and sports writer from the North West of England. His work has appeared in the likes of Vulture, Esquire, Billboard, Paste, i-D and The Guardian. 

Watch Queer Eye Season 6 on Netflix