(Major Spoiler Alert)
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that queer characters in possession of a chance at a happy ending, must be few-and-far-between, or that’s how cinema’s history of queer representation would make you feel.
The ‘Bury the Gays’ trope isn’t new but people have come to expect less of it especially from certain shows that seem to check all the other boxes— so it did feel like betrayal when Killing Eve ended with Villanelle (Jodie Comer)...dying.
A main character death is almost inevitable in the genre Killing Eve is in but, for so long, lesbian characters have either been murdered for dramatic effect or been the murderers. The ending of Killing Eve was underwhelming at best owing mostly to the fact that both the queer leads got their ‘happy ending’ for mere minutes.
This is not new— there’s Root from Person of Interest, Tara from Buffy the Vampire, Denise from The Walking Dead, Lexa from The 100 (one of the most popular examples of the trope) and more recently Castiel from Supernatural…the list is endless.
Seeing queer characters repeatedly killed off, especially when they either finally confess their feelings or have sex with a same-sex partner or get married, propagates the idea that queer people don’t deserve a happy ending— something the world already tells queer kids. There are shows and films that attempt to subvert this trope and give their characters a shot at happiness and fans expected Killing Eve to be one of those shows.
Why? The show normalised queer lives— several characters on the show were queer in a matter-of-fact way. Villanelle’s sexuality was there for all to see and her storyline wasn’t all about ‘coming out’ or traumatic self-discovery but instead, the show created an environment where Villanelle was free to be who she wants without seeming like a pariah— and that’s rare.
The first two seasons, featuring Phoebe Waller-Bridge and Emerald Fennell as head writers, created an equation between Eve Polastri (Sandra Oh) and Villanelle that was at its core, romantic (obsessive, yes) and sexual.
There was not much to read between the lines since they would both tell each other, and the audience, how they felt— blurring the lines between romance and obsession in a manner that’s delightfully sinister.
Both seasons had audience and critics raving about the show and especially about Sandra Oh and Jodie Comer’s on-screen chemistry. The show also won brownie points for showing the more complicated aspects of a queer relationship and for the way it drew out Eve and Villanelle’s journeys in relation to each other.
Let’s address this— their relationship isn’t an ideal relationship; it’s toxic and obsessive and is not the idea of a relationship that anyone should glorify or propagate. The killing of Villanelle isn’t the ‘problem’ with the show, it’s the way it was done and how quickly after the two leads finally kissed. Fans had theorised that one or both would die in the finale and showrunner Laura Neal confirms those are possibilities they considered.
Neal adds that Villanelle tried to change but reverted back to her ‘old ways’ but that has never been her arc with Eve. Villanelle has constantly put herself in danger to save Eve and has rarely come out unscathed. In the first few seasons, Konstantin Vasiliev tells Eve that Villanelle gets obsessed with someone and the only way to escape that is death but that, too, isn’t true for Eve.
Eve and Villanelle were both “bad” for each other and they both needed to escape the toxic relationship they were in— pinning that blame too on the canonically queer character seems messy.
Let's be honest, season 3 and 4 had gone off the rails already since they chose to keep the leads separate almost the entire time and focused instead on half-baked (and often convoluted) subplots. Many reviews of the two seasons were mixed and often still appreciating Sandra and Jodie's chemistry.
Oh, and the fact that Eve and Villanelle end up together in the book series Codename Villanelle the show is based on doesn’t help matters either.
Here are a few reactions from fans:
The literary tool of ‘Bury the Gays’ was once a refuge— back in the 19th century or even earlier, the trope was used so people could tell queer stories without breaking any laws or ‘codes’ or ‘obscenity laws’ since any form of endorsement of a queer storyline could have adverse repercussions on the author or the filmmaker. But this is 2022 and the trope is no longer a ‘refuge’ and is instead an easy way out or oversight.
I’ll leave you with a quote from Waller-Bridge to Variety, "Every moment in this show exists so the two women can end up alone in a room together. Really it would have been a betrayal to the audience if they didn't come together in the end."
(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)