By Maya Mabern

When Hulu’s “High Fidelity” premiered, I actually squealed out loud.  

As a fan of the 2000 film starring John Cusack, I was ecstatic for Zoe Kravitz to retell the story of the pretentious music nerd who realizes she’s the common denominator in all of her failed relationships.  

Similar to the original film, Kravitz’s character Robyn “Rob” Brooks is a too-cool-for-school, deeply flawed record store owner with two best friends who are just as nerdy as she is.

Neither version of the story is perfect: they both rely heavily on their “cool” factor, especially the Hulu series, which is set against the backdrop of gentrified Crown Heights, Brooklyn and is a bit too reverent of music tropes that may have made sense in 2000, but not in 2020 — I’m sorry, but what average person today is making a mixtape, on an actual tape, for their crush?

Even still, the series is well written, has strong performances from Kravitz, David Holmes and Da’Vine Randolph — playing Rob’s friends Simon and Cherise, respectively — contained a great amount of genuine laughs and even had a dreamy “Nice Guy” to fawn over, played by the ever-typecasted Jake Lacy.  

Sure, the show is great, but more importantly, it’s fun. I binged all 10 episodes in a single day about a week into quarantine in March, and it provided me with a way to escape the four walls of my room — which, at that point, I didn’t know I would be stuck in for the next five months. I so desperately wanted to exist in the world of “High Fidelity,” if only for Rob’s unrealistically massive apartment.

Unfortunately, Hulu axed the show after one season, further proving that streaming services don’t care about my feelings.

Fans and cast members alike were shocked by the news. I, personally, was furious. 

For one thing, there are absolutely way worse shows on Hulu that have lasted longer than this one, but what really hurt is how badly I and so many others needed a show like “High Fidelity.”  

There are, to reference Kravitz’s pointed tweet, very few original shows on Hulu that star Black women or women of color as a whole. I got to see myself reflected in Rob — as much as I hate to admit because, as I mentioned, she is pretentious and deeply flawed. And for a while during quarantine, I was able to envision a normal post-grad life, in which I abandon my degree, own a record store and make playlists for men I’ve met only once.