Morality, Violence, Justice: Re-evaluating Not Me 3 years Later
[Not Me aired from December 2021 – March 2022. This review was written in April 2025. Spoilers should be few; however, the review assumes most readers have prior familiarity with this series and its characters. Accordingly, it omits any detailed explanation of the plot. A goal of the writing is to explain why the series remains fresh three years after its broadcast run concluded.]
When Not Me debuted in December ’21, it instantly became the most unusual BL series in the GMMTV catalog. Three years on, it retains that distinction. Edgy, dark, and violent, its vibe represented a stark departure from the light, fluffy romantic fare the company usually peddled. Prickly, stubborn, and hot-headed, its anti-hero protagonists represented an equally stark departure from the typical BL lead characters who ooze sweetness and light. In the customary GMMTV BL formula, the romance of the lead couple anchors the entire storyline, but I cannot say Sean-White fulfill this obligation. The couple is not a failure per se, but it is also not entirely convincing. Could have been stronger. Two other plot elements overshadow the Sean-White romance. First, White’s masquerade as Black, trying to solve the mystery behind his twin’s near-murder. Second, the gang’s crusade against entrenched social injustice. In fact, I think the Sean-White romance subplot feels forced. Yes, the duo do spend a lot of time sharing close quarters--and, yes, those scenes deliver the usual BL mushy moments. Even so, it feels like their relationship progresses because the writers understand many viewers came to see the actors: they want Off and Gun fall for each other. (Again.) Thus the flirtatious scenes begin to pile up in middle of the series even though the first part of the series has made perfectly clear these mismatched personalities have many layers of conflict. (Yes, I know enemies-to-lovers is a viable trope. But I'm not sure this series fully earned the transition from enemies to lovers, so much as the whole audience just accepted it by habit. I mean, it's Off and Gun, so of course!) Put another way, BL romance trades in sweet moments, but the passion between Sean-White reeks of a more combustible hate-love. The attraction of the bodies is clear. The attraction of personality, less so. One wishes the meeting of the minds had benefited from a deeper investment into character development in the earlier episodes. Aside from Sean's rage at the world and White's struggle to connect with a twin he no longer understands, we do not know enough about either character for their sudden coupling to make sense beyond youthful randyness: namely, forced proximity + young horny men + tension = lust. By contrast, the Dan-Yok relationship feels far more organic amidst the detailed worldbuilding. The furtive romance between would-be revolutionary Yok and Dan, a renegade cop with a secret alter ego that itself flirts with illegality, is a clever match of character types. Their story provides a sweet emotional center to the series that the Sean-White relationship never quite supplies. The Yok-Dan pairing strikes me as a natural outgrowth of the story. It never felt forced. This devaluation of the Sean-White BL arc does not diminish the series because Sean and White themselves are more focused on The Mission than each other (until the last two episodes, anyway). Only if the viewer arrived at the production expecting the usual romance-centric BL plot will the shortcomings of the Sean-White relationship rankle. Perhaps “BL” is not even the best way to classify this complex work, as the characters’ absorption in their self-appointed crusade to right the wrongs embedded into the Thai social structure always overshadows their interest in romance. Not Me may be better understood as a social commentary wrapped in BL packaging. But its masquerade succeeds on both level, social critique and romance alike.
That success owes to detailed worldbuilding by the writers and the director. This worldbuilding includes a rich array of support characters and a willingness to explore multiple sides to many issues. In particular, the series uses its university setting to good effect. Various episodes present legal theory and economic theory to set the stakes, delivered in the guise of the classroom. The power of the arts to effect change is also showcased here, with both dance and street art marshaled to articulate the message of protest. Speaking of protest, the legendary scene where White dances in jubilation under a giant rainbow flag remains one of the most iconic moments in the entire BL genre. Also, that scene provides one of the very few where explicit symbols of queer power work their way into this genre all about same-sex romance. My remaining concerns can be easily dismissed. Aside from a central romance overshadowed by the side couple, one might also fairly criticize the presentation of the fight scenes. Some of the action set pieces implausibly favor our anti-heroes, who by rights ought to be overmatched in direct conflict. They are after all, amateur vigilantes who train for battle in between classes. That they can repeatedly best professionals with years of experience is far-fetched. Nevertheless, providential victories in battle for main characters in action films is so routine this largesse can be overlooked.
One test of a classic is whether it holds up to repeat viewing years after the initial enthusiasm for its arrival has faded. This series aces that test. Indeed, Not Me improved with age. This time, knowing in advance not to expect the typical light, fluffy BL made me more receptive to the social criticism baked into the story. The lads in Black's gang see themselves as heroes crusading on behalf of the overlooked, the downtrodden, the forgotten. But the script also overtly questions that premise. In the face of the gang’s self-image as heroic, other characters question their assumptions. That they have chosen illegal (and violent) tactics to achieve their ends is not simply dismissed. In fact, the series carefully offers counterpoints to nearly every grievance the lads claim to fight against. This nuance forces viewers and characters alike to reckon with the gray areas of morality. Life, the script seems to insist, cannot be boiled down to black and white. And both Black and White seem to grasp this point. Eventually. It is this balanced approach to the issues that helps Not Me to withstand the test of time.
In the end, all its daring departures from the norm work to distinguish Not Me from the pack of repetitive first love plots that comprise most genre stories about students. Tight writing, thoughtful and coherent, combined with powerhouse acting to meet the challenges of this difficult script. Not Me remains excellent today.
When Not Me debuted in December ’21, it instantly became the most unusual BL series in the GMMTV catalog. Three years on, it retains that distinction. Edgy, dark, and violent, its vibe represented a stark departure from the light, fluffy romantic fare the company usually peddled. Prickly, stubborn, and hot-headed, its anti-hero protagonists represented an equally stark departure from the typical BL lead characters who ooze sweetness and light. In the customary GMMTV BL formula, the romance of the lead couple anchors the entire storyline, but I cannot say Sean-White fulfill this obligation. The couple is not a failure per se, but it is also not entirely convincing. Could have been stronger. Two other plot elements overshadow the Sean-White romance. First, White’s masquerade as Black, trying to solve the mystery behind his twin’s near-murder. Second, the gang’s crusade against entrenched social injustice. In fact, I think the Sean-White romance subplot feels forced. Yes, the duo do spend a lot of time sharing close quarters--and, yes, those scenes deliver the usual BL mushy moments. Even so, it feels like their relationship progresses because the writers understand many viewers came to see the actors: they want Off and Gun fall for each other. (Again.) Thus the flirtatious scenes begin to pile up in middle of the series even though the first part of the series has made perfectly clear these mismatched personalities have many layers of conflict. (Yes, I know enemies-to-lovers is a viable trope. But I'm not sure this series fully earned the transition from enemies to lovers, so much as the whole audience just accepted it by habit. I mean, it's Off and Gun, so of course!) Put another way, BL romance trades in sweet moments, but the passion between Sean-White reeks of a more combustible hate-love. The attraction of the bodies is clear. The attraction of personality, less so. One wishes the meeting of the minds had benefited from a deeper investment into character development in the earlier episodes. Aside from Sean's rage at the world and White's struggle to connect with a twin he no longer understands, we do not know enough about either character for their sudden coupling to make sense beyond youthful randyness: namely, forced proximity + young horny men + tension = lust. By contrast, the Dan-Yok relationship feels far more organic amidst the detailed worldbuilding. The furtive romance between would-be revolutionary Yok and Dan, a renegade cop with a secret alter ego that itself flirts with illegality, is a clever match of character types. Their story provides a sweet emotional center to the series that the Sean-White relationship never quite supplies. The Yok-Dan pairing strikes me as a natural outgrowth of the story. It never felt forced. This devaluation of the Sean-White BL arc does not diminish the series because Sean and White themselves are more focused on The Mission than each other (until the last two episodes, anyway). Only if the viewer arrived at the production expecting the usual romance-centric BL plot will the shortcomings of the Sean-White relationship rankle. Perhaps “BL” is not even the best way to classify this complex work, as the characters’ absorption in their self-appointed crusade to right the wrongs embedded into the Thai social structure always overshadows their interest in romance. Not Me may be better understood as a social commentary wrapped in BL packaging. But its masquerade succeeds on both level, social critique and romance alike.
That success owes to detailed worldbuilding by the writers and the director. This worldbuilding includes a rich array of support characters and a willingness to explore multiple sides to many issues. In particular, the series uses its university setting to good effect. Various episodes present legal theory and economic theory to set the stakes, delivered in the guise of the classroom. The power of the arts to effect change is also showcased here, with both dance and street art marshaled to articulate the message of protest. Speaking of protest, the legendary scene where White dances in jubilation under a giant rainbow flag remains one of the most iconic moments in the entire BL genre. Also, that scene provides one of the very few where explicit symbols of queer power work their way into this genre all about same-sex romance. My remaining concerns can be easily dismissed. Aside from a central romance overshadowed by the side couple, one might also fairly criticize the presentation of the fight scenes. Some of the action set pieces implausibly favor our anti-heroes, who by rights ought to be overmatched in direct conflict. They are after all, amateur vigilantes who train for battle in between classes. That they can repeatedly best professionals with years of experience is far-fetched. Nevertheless, providential victories in battle for main characters in action films is so routine this largesse can be overlooked.
One test of a classic is whether it holds up to repeat viewing years after the initial enthusiasm for its arrival has faded. This series aces that test. Indeed, Not Me improved with age. This time, knowing in advance not to expect the typical light, fluffy BL made me more receptive to the social criticism baked into the story. The lads in Black's gang see themselves as heroes crusading on behalf of the overlooked, the downtrodden, the forgotten. But the script also overtly questions that premise. In the face of the gang’s self-image as heroic, other characters question their assumptions. That they have chosen illegal (and violent) tactics to achieve their ends is not simply dismissed. In fact, the series carefully offers counterpoints to nearly every grievance the lads claim to fight against. This nuance forces viewers and characters alike to reckon with the gray areas of morality. Life, the script seems to insist, cannot be boiled down to black and white. And both Black and White seem to grasp this point. Eventually. It is this balanced approach to the issues that helps Not Me to withstand the test of time.
In the end, all its daring departures from the norm work to distinguish Not Me from the pack of repetitive first love plots that comprise most genre stories about students. Tight writing, thoughtful and coherent, combined with powerhouse acting to meet the challenges of this difficult script. Not Me remains excellent today.
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