The MVP: Jordan Kristine Seamón’s Authentic Vulnerability in We Are Who We Are

Editor’s Note: Welcome to The MVP, a column where we celebrate the best performances TV has to offer. Whether it be through heart-wrenching outbursts, powerful looks, or perfectly-timed comedy, TV’s most memorable moments are made by the medium’s greatest players—top-billed or otherwise. Join us as we dive deep on our favorite TV performances, past and present:

Back in 2020, the television landscape was dominated by flashy, bingeable shows like Tiger King and The Queen’s Gambit that captured online discourse and attention. Feel-good series such as Schitt’s Creek and Ted Lasso provided audiences with comfort amidst a dire time for public health. Meanwhile, network shows attempted—mostly unsuccessfully—to address issues like the pandemic, anti-Black racism, and police brutality, striving to remain relevant in a rapidly changing world. Amidst this sea of commanding programming, however, was We Are Who We Are, an HBO original series from Luca Guadagnino that defies easy categorization, eschewing binge-ability, feel-good narratives, and contemporary themes (the series is set in 2016) in favor of a more contemplative exploration of identity.

The series premiered in October of 2020, following the success of Guadanigno’s visually stunning but ethically disturbing Call Me By Your Name. In We Are Who We Are, Guadagnino once again immerses viewers in the beauty of Italian landscapes, crafting a narrative that explores the coming-of-age journeys of Fraser Wilson (played by Jack Dylan Grazer) and Harper Poythress (played by Jordan Kristine Seamón). Set against the backdrop of a military base, the series poignantly examines their evolving identities as they navigate the complexities of sexuality and gender identity while living next door to each other with their families.

Fraser is an erratic, rebellious, and artistic teenager, embodying the privilege of a white youth endowed with ample opportunities and resources to explore and define his identity. In stark contrast, Harper is raised in a Black MAGA household, where family members vocally denounce Queerness and scold Harper for their gender expression. This series captures the joy and turmoil of identity exploration, particularly in adolescence, emphasizing the profound beauty of being genuinely seen and accepted by someone who loves you.

Despite delivering a breathtaking performance as Harper, Seamón had never acted professionally before the series. In an era where loud, maximalist performances receive the most recognition and buzz, Seamón’s understated and reactive performance feels intentionally subdued and authentic. Harper experiences the visceral emotion of adolescence—jarring moments of pain and heartbreak, wondrous moments of joy and triumph. Throughout each emotional beat, Seamón injects an aching curiosity and a desire to explore, feelings synonymous with both teenhood and Queer self-discovery. 

Seamón, who identifies as genderfluid, cites the show for helping them discover what pronouns and identity labels felt best for them. In a television landscape where straight actors are celebrated for playing Queer characters, it is refreshing to watch the convergence of identity and performance intersect to shape and mold an authenticity that is near impossible to fabricate. The softness and natural curiosity Seamón brings to the role meaningfully improves each narrative moment.

Capturing the essence of a character amid an identity journey is no simple task; it necessitates a delicate balance of revealing the character’s true self while navigating the nuances of the “self” they portray to others. Seamón tows this line nimbly, letting the audience peek behind the curtain of Harper’s facade, while still allowing the character to discover themselves naturally. Seamón suffuses Harper with a quiet rebelliousness, capturing the delicate balance between vulnerability and strength as they confront familial rejection and the intricate layers of pain they endure on the quest for self-acceptance. Seamón’s ability to fill dialogue-free moments with emotion transforms slower narrative beats into poignant moments of self-discovery. Each glance towards the horizon, each silent pause, echoes the universal search for identity and belonging, transcending and complimenting the specificity of the character.

In contrast to Grazer’s bombastic performance as Fraser, Seamón prioritizes reflectiveness, imbuing Harper with a soft, quiet skepticism that holds Fraser accountable and tempers his frivolity. With Britney, played by Francesca Scorcese, Seamón gives Harper a light-hearted freedom, illuminating a more playful aspect of the character. Opposite Scott Mescudi (known to many as the rapper Kid Cudi) who plays Richard Polythress, Harper’s dad, Seamón imbues their character with a youthful vulnerability, capturing the essence of a child attempting to emulate their father. As Harper yearns for masculinity, the admiration they feel for their dad becomes more heartbreaking. When their relationship darkens, Seamón holds both the pain and admiration Harper feels for Richard with equal weight. This delicate interplay elevates the series, providing viewers with memorable, moving moments that linger long after the artistically unique credits roll.

However, while some aspects of the show’s exploration of weighty themes are profound, many others fall disappointingly flat. We Are Who We Are touches on significant issues such as imperialism and race, yet fails to delve into or meaningfully engage with either. Notably, it neglects to fully examine the intersection of Blackness and Queerness, particularly the queerphobia that Harper endures from their family. The show’s emphasis on Fraser often overshadows its characters of color, suggesting that the predominantly white creative team may lack the perspective necessary to address these complexities adequately.

Furthermore, akin to Guadagnino’s Call Me By Your Name, the series portrays troubling dynamics between children and adults that raise ethical concerns. While it acknowledges these dynamics, it fails to provide consequences for the adult characters’ behavior or the harm they inflict, leaving these issues largely unexamined. While I would like to believe that the creatives intentionally left these dynamics unexamined to comment on how in real life these situations often lack accountability for the adults involved, this interpretation becomes challenging to accept in light of Guadagnino’s continued support for Armie Hammer amidst serious allegations and his romanticization of predatory relationships in Call Me By Your Name. As a result, We Are Who We Are feels occasionally uncomfortable and problematic. Nonetheless, Seamón’s nuanced performance shines through the murkiness, consistently elevating the material and offering a counterbalance to the series’ shortcomings.

In the sixth episode of We Are Who We Are, an unexpected dance scene beautifully encapsulates Harper’s desire for liberation; Seamón’s free physicality stands in direct contrast to the creatively uncomfortable teenager we see at the beginning of the season. Later, in the final episode, this urgency for independence and joy intensifies as Harper reflects on the fleeting nature of their time on the military base and their relationship with Fraser. Seamón captures this drive, showcasing a character finally confident in their true identity despite the constraints imposed by their environment. These moments create a powerful narrative arc that underscores embracing one’s identity, even amid uncertainty and adversity.

Ultimately, it is Seamón’s remarkable performance that elevates We Are Who We Are into a touching showcase of youth and identity. Seamón’s portrayal has lingered in my mind since I first watched the series four years ago; their unique authenticity brings a rare depth to the role that remains unmatched in today’s television landscape. By immersing viewers in Harper’s journey, they created a character who feels deeply relatable and irreproducible. Seamón’s ability to convey a subtle performance of vulnerability and identity resonates deeply, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of those who watch.

Joshua Harris (he/him) is a lover of television, independent film, and his two dogs. His work has appeared in Awards Radar, mxdwnTELEVISION, and more. He is an African-American Film Critics Association (AAFCA) member.

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