DTF St Louis: A Dark Comedy Exploring Dating Apps and Infidelity
Steve Conrad’s dark comedy is filled with twists and bittersweet humor. Regarding the fate of David Harbour’s character, one might ask: does Lily Allen have an alibi?
Last October, Lily Allen released a striking song addressing the sexual politics of her marriage to actor David Harbour. The musical piece was reportedly inspired by her personal investigation into Harbour’s long-term infidelities through the dating app Raya. This context makes the timing of DTF St Louis (premiering Monday 2 March, 9pm, Sky Atlantic) particularly compelling. In the series, Harbour portrays a man in a stagnant marriage who downloads a hookup app to pursue extramarital encounters—an intriguing premise for all except his publicist.
From the trailer, the show was difficult to categorize. Was it a dark comedy, a bedroom farce, or a police procedural? The answer is all of the above. Initially, one might suspect a return to the erotic thrillers of the 1990s, but while the show is sexually charged, it does not follow that genre.
Dating apps are widely regarded as challenging, yet many, including married individuals, continue to use them. They offer a seamless way to seek affairs, which is precisely what Harbour’s character, Floyd—a sign language interpreter—does. He is supported by his best friend Clark, portrayed by a similarly frustrated middle-aged weatherman. The Missouri area may be experiencing a cold front, but tensions are rising.
However, the situation quickly turns grim. Within 25 minutes, Harbour’s character is found dead, slumped against the wall of the “Kevin Kline Community Pool,” accompanied by a defaced, Indiana Jones-themed Playgirl centerfold and a lethal can of Bloody Mary. The seven episodes of this HBO miniseries unravel the mystery in classic whodunnit fashion. Clark is initially a suspect, but questions also surround Floyd’s alluring wife, Carol. Throughout the series, the viewer might suspect Lily Allen’s involvement, but her alibi is solid—she was performing in the West End at the time.
Written and directed with confidence by Steven Conrad, the series is beautifully shot and contemporary. The murder investigation is led by two engaging characters: Homer and Plumb, played by and Joy Sunday, respectively. Homer is a bald, white boomer, while Plumb is a young, Black woman. Their contrasting backgrounds create immediate tension—Plumb is a special crimes investigator, and Homer is a county sheriff’s detective with jurisdiction.
Reluctantly collaborating, Plumb educates Homer on niche topics such as sex-positive dating and the complex psychology behind modern sexual behavior. Homer’s bewilderment is humorously depicted when he scrawls initialisms like AP for “ass play” in his otherwise blank notebook. This moment resonates with anyone who has had to look up obscure internet acronyms, a humbling experience.
The show’s tone leans more toward ennui than explicit sexuality, though it contains dark, melancholic humor. To supplement the family income, Carol (Linda Cardellini) has taken up umpiring Little League baseball games despite her lack of knowledge about the sport. The bulky umpiring gear she wears at home has dampened Floyd’s libido.
“It’s the puffy chest guard and mask. That’s puffy too,”he confides to Clark. The two men share secretive conversations about their experiences with the fictional dating app, as if plotting an escape.
For those interested in seeing the urbane Bateman, known for hosting a popular podcast, in an unexpected scenario involving a hotel room, the show offers that as well.
The pacing and plot developments are unconventional. Floyd’s weight gain is a notable detail, with the camera emphasizing his prominent belly. Additionally, he suffers from Peyronie’s disease, which causes a severe curvature of his penis—a mystery gradually explored throughout the series. Despite these challenges, Floyd remains pure of spirit; even in death, his T-shirt rides over his stomach rather than anything else. Retrospective scenes depict him working as a deaf interpreter at hip-hop events, engaging in expressive choreography with remarkable grace, and teaching American Sign Language to his friend. These moments provide insight into why Harbour accepted the role and showcase an admirably unpretentious performance.
Having watched four episodes, the series increasingly captivates. Middle-aged marital dissatisfaction is a familiar theme, but DTF St Louis ventures into unusual territory with unpredictable twists, solid detective elements, suburban monotony, and dry humor. The main takeaway appears to be a cautionary tale: using dating apps might lead to a swift and fatal encounter by a swimming pool—and that’s if one is fortunate.
