When Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams made their Golden Globes debut on Sunday, walking onstage to the tune of Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club,” they were met with a roar of applause so enthusiastic, you’d think they were Oscar frontrunners from a recent blockbuster.
“You think everyone in the audience has seen ‘Heated Rivalry?'” Williams asked his costar in a lighthearted bit.
“That’s a maybe,” Storrie replied with mock stoicism. “But their trainers have, and their moms have, and their daughters have.”
If you didn’t know who Storrie and Williams were before they were tapped as presenters at the awards ceremony — and, indeed, if you still don’t — there’s no need to be ashamed. The two actors were largely unknown before they were cast in the Canadian import “Heated Rivalry,” a romance drama that HBO head Casey Bloys recently called “a word-of-mouth sensation” after its first season debuted on the streamer in late November. The data bears this out: according to data from Luminate, viewership increased tenfold between the premiere and the finale, and the show has continued to accumulate hundreds of millions of viewing minutes even after the season ended in December.
The show, based on a book series by Rachel Reid, follows Ilya Rozanov (Storrie) and Shane Hollander (Williams), two professional hockey players who embark upon a secret love affair. The series has quickly attracted a devoted following thanks to its steamy sex scenes and the onscreen chemistry between its co-leads.
I can personally vouch for the show’s addictive appeal. Before I compulsively binged all six episodes in a single Saturday evening, declining a friend’s invitation to go out because I wanted to keep watching, I’d been asked about the show by no fewer than six people. These questions were usually phrased as assumptions: “You’ve seen ‘Heated Rivalry,’ right?”
This success story is anomalous, not least because the show was made with a relatively scant budget (showrunner Jacob Tierney said production was “insanely cheap” by American standards) and no major star power to speak of. Unlike many of their peers at the Golden Globes, before being cast as on-ice rivals and off-ice lovers, Storrie and Williams didn’t have massive follower counts on Instagram, viral TikTok videos, or fan bases carried over from past projects — and I can confidently say their low profiles were blessings in disguise.
Sure, “Heated Rivalry” would’ve received a bigger marketing push had bigger names been on the poster, but it has delighted viewers and drawn attention regardless. The show’s popularity is a testament to the appetite for fresh faces in Hollywood.
Sabrina Lantos/HBO Max
These days, it can feel like the same group of celebrated actors is appearing in a never-ending rotation of blockbusters, regardless of how well they suit the role at hand. (A list of names probably just popped into your head as you read that sentence.)
I can’t help but think of last year’s announcement that Sam Mendes would make four interconnected Beatles biopics. Instead of trying to find promising newcomers who closely resembled and could embody the famous bandmates, the cast reveal reads like a standard response to the trivia question, “Which young male actors have the most critical buzz and fanfare right now?”
It’s not that Paul Mescal (“Hamnet,” “Gladiator II”), Harris Dickinson (“Babygirl,” “The Iron Claw”), Joseph Quinn (“Fantastic Four,” “Stranger Things”), and Barry Keoghan (“Saltburn,” Sabrina Carpenter’s ex-boyfriend) don’t have chops — it’s that name recognition almost certainly came into play in casting.
The most obvious actor missing from that list would be Timothée Chalamet, who helmed his own biopic as Bob Dylan in 2024. His latest release, “Marty Supreme,” is a top Oscar contender featuring a terrific lead performance — though one that I decisively associate with the actor’s fame, reputation, and enthusiastic marketing campaign. Chalamet is someone I’m very familiar with, even fond of, and I was impressed by his work in the film. Still, this familiarity kept me at arm’s length from the character, raising the barrier to suspend my disbelief. While watching, it was difficult for me to see the face of ping-pong player Marty Mauser, and not Chalamet wearing light facial prosthetics.
By contrast, I didn’t know the names of Storrie or Williams before watching “Heated Rivalry,” and I wouldn’t have wanted to. I was blessedly undistracted by recognition, making Ilya and Shane feel all the more real — as if I could flip the channel to ESPN and watch the pair skating after the puck, or delivering a joint press conference full of unspoken sexual tension.
Even now, after watching interviews and promotional videos of Storrie and Williams as themselves, it hasn’t colored my experience of the show. (I just finished my second rewatch.) Their characters exist in the pure realm of my brain’s pleasure center, untouched by Hollywood’s machinations. When I watch Ilya and Shane kiss on my screen, I don’t see two actors putting on a performance or vying for nominations; I see two people in love.
I would hope and assume that opportunities for Storrie and Williams are pouring into their agents’ inboxes, so they’ll soon have the recognition and buzz that will buoy them into being cast in other projects. Fame awaits them as surely as “Heated Rivalry” fans await season two. Still, let their unlikely fairytale inspire more casting agents to take a chance on actors without clout.
