(Mild spoilers for the series ahead, by the way.)
It’s Pride month! Arguably the best month of the year, and we say that being completely unbiased. As GCSE students, we have plenty of time to procrastinate and watch TV instead of doing work and, oh boy, has ‘Our Flag Means Death’ (OFMD) been good way to do that.
For those of you unfamiliar with the show, it’s a romantic comedy set during the Golden Age of Piracy (read: 1650s-1730s), which follows the Gentleman Pirate, Stede Bonnet (played by Rhys Darby) and famed pirate Blackbeard (Taika Waititi). Similarly to Heartstopper, a Netflix series that has also become immensely popular over the last few weeks, OFMD has queer characters and storylines at its centre – something which the majority of mainstream modern media lacks.
The show was released in March and became an immediate hit. The Parrot, which collects analytics about TV shows in the US, reported OFMD to be the most in-demand show in the US for seven weeks, surpassing ‘Moon Knight’ (Marvel Studio’s new show) and unseating ‘the Book of Bobba Fett’ from the top spot (where it had been for three months prior). This is even more impressive considering the show didn’t have a huge budget, especially compared to what Marvel sank into its series.
‘Queerbaiting’ is a marketing technique where creators hint at, but don’t actually show LGBTQ+ representation. It has been a common trope in mainstream media for decades, drawing queer audiences in by getting them invested in characters and relationships that the creators themselves have no intention of making explicitly LGBTQ+, thus allowing them to conveniently sidestep any negative reactions that writing openly queer characters might have. Some good examples of ‘queerbaiting’ include BBC’s Sherlock (2010-2017) and Supernatural (2005-2020). Having to read between the lines for small hints of a character’s queerness is achingly familiar to LGBTQ+ audiences, and having actual genuine representation often feels like a far-off fantasy.
What makes OFMD so exceptional is that it both seems to acknowledge the frustrating trope, but then deliberately and explicitly follows through on all the hints and chemistry displayed in the earlier episodes. The initial set up seems like the familiar routine: creators handing out breadcrumbs of representation – enough to keep fans watching and hoping, but never following through – leaving it solely to the communities, the fandoms, to create their own works, and having to extrapolate from the original in order to feel represented and seen. We expected OFMD to be the same, at first; the possibility of explicit queer representation felt too good to be true, shown in a way that left absolutely no doubt to the viewer what it was but also didn’t focus the entire story around the characters’ queerness (there is so much more to life than sexuality and gender orientation…).
Despite our (understandable) fears, OFMD followed through, and it was beautiful. Watching the two main characters kiss was joyful, and a genuine relief, because the show delivered on its promises in a way that so many productions chicken out of. We were both grinning when the scene finished- it felt freeing to watch a show that didn’t make us hunt for the representation we wanted, but instead gifted it to us unapologetically, in a hilarious and heart-breaking parcel, straight to our screens. Seeing unfiltered queerness where the focus is on the joy, not the repression or fear that LGBTQ+ centred shows often revolve around, is incredible.
It’s happy – another thing that you don’t often see in LGBTQ+ portrayals in media. There are not one, not two, but three queer relationships in the show; and none of them centre exclusively around coming out, or oppression, or hurt. There’s also a Latine, knife-wielding, Spanish-speaking, non-binary character in the show (yes, they are as cool as they sound) who is consistently referred to with they/them pronouns. The cast are as wonderfully diverse as their characters, and OFMD has single-handedly raised the bar for what diversity in modern media can look like (Māori Blackbeard? Sign me up.)
The queerness of characters is not subtextual in OFMD, but the homophobia is. In an exact reversal of the usual dynamic, viewers have to actively search for the homophobia in interactions on screen, rather than the queerness. This is not to say that homophobia isn’t portrayed at all in this version of the 18th-century Caribbean, but rather it is just resigned to symbolism and subtext in the way that LGBTQ+ characters themselves often are. This switch was unbelievably cathartic to watch; the lack of melodramatic coming out scenes, equally so. We’re not denying that these have their place in media and are important, it’s just that they get a little repetitive when every single piece of queer-centric media places them front and centre in some sort of overdone cinematic climax. It is equally vital to see characters who don’t have to explain or label themselves in order to be understood and respected by those around them. You pick up on the identities of characters as you go along, and it doesn’t feel confusing, it feels natural. The series also shows older queer characters exploring their sexualities in queer relationships, a rarity, and it’s nice to see representation of queer characters who aren’t teens or young adults, reminding audiences that people can explore their identities whatever their age, and whoever they are.
In addition to providing the diverse representation we have all been starved of, the chemistry between the cast is superb: the relationships and their build-ups feel organic – contrasting to the inevitable and often slightly forced ‘male and female leads get together’ plotline in many straight-centric shows. Instead, we get to watch a beautiful and unconventional romance develop, and Darby and Waititi do it perfectly. The show isn’t full of puns and endless slapstick – it’s able to strike the balance between funny, sweet and moving, and explores complex topics like toxic masculinity and internalised misogyny at the same time.
To summarise: ‘Our Flag Means Death’ is here, it’s queer and we cannot wait for season 2.
