The eight-part miniseries benefits from its fairly novel (and thematically complex) historical backdrop, but it develops into one of the year’s best dramas through its rich characterizations. The casting of the leads is a particular achievement.

A complex, intimate, captivating and visually stunning portrait of anguish and desire.

The limited series works best in the ’50s and the ’80s, when the writers decide to strip away any unnecessary minor characters and, instead, keep the focus on Hawk and Tim’s inextricable connection. But all in all, this is the kind of devastating love story for the ages, brought to life with the undeniable talents of Bomer and Bailey, that will stay with you long after the end credits roll.

It’s not particularly groundbreaking in terms of the story it’s telling, but that doesn’t make it feel any less necessary.

Mainly, though, Bomer and Bailey are the drawing cards. They can’t entirely overcome some of the fundamental issues with how Fellow Travelers has attempted to move through time, and to mix fact with fiction, but they make the fictional part feel real, and poignant.

Yet as good as "Travelers" often is — the performances of Bomer and Bailey in particular — something is missing. There are no female characters of any particular substance or depth. A few arrive, then go, while Williams' Lucy is mostly a sketch of the "long-suffering" variety over too many of these hours.

The messier and more contradictory Nyswaner lets these characters be, the more real they become. Unfortunately, Fellow Travelers drifts in the opposite direction, toward smoothness and bland palatability.