By now, you’ve probably either heard of or watched HBO’s latest hit show Our Flag Means Death, created by David Jenkins. After seeing tons of buzz, fanart, and general discussion about the show online, I already knew it was a show I’d enjoy, especially since many were applauding its queer characters and narratives. And though I was a bit late to the game in watching it (the finale premiered at the end of March 2022), I finally binged it this past weekend.
My thoughts about this hilarious, quirky, and undeniably heartfelt show may not be very different from other rave reviews – particularly due to its incredible LGBTQIA+ representation, stellar cast, and compelling premise about pirates – but I think it important for shows like this one to receive as much glowing praise as possible. Series like Our Flag Means Death remind me of how necessary it is to see proper representation onscreen. So without further ado, here are all the many reasons I loved this show!
Spoilers for Our Flag Means Death below!
The Intersectionality
First, a shoutout must go to the truly stellar ensemble cast, including Rhys Darby, Taika Waititi, Vico Ortiz, Joel Fry, Kristian Nairn, Ewen Bremner, Samson Kayo, Nathan Foad, Matthew Maher, Con O’Neill, Nat Faxon, and Samba Schutte (with notable guest stars like Leslie Jones, Fred Armisen, Will Arnett, and Nick Kroll). Aside from the two main characters played by Darby and Waititi, I was surprised at how effectively each character made their mark, which can be a difficult task with a larger cast.
It needs to be said that while I’ve only ever seen him in strictly comedic roles, and primarily as a side character, I loved seeing Rhys Darby in a leading role. He’s an actor I’ve found to be deliriously funny in anything I’ve seen him in, whether it was in Flight of the Conchords, Yes Man, What We Do in the Shadows, the new Jumanji films, or the variety of other media projects he’s popped up in. To see him play main character Stede Bonnet, which allowed him to show off his more dynamic acting capabilities – still funny, and silly, but also wildly endearing and empathetic – was a delight. Taika Waititi excels as he always does, because what else is new? Waititi is a renaissance man who has continued to showcase his boundless range of talent through various directing, producing, acting, and writing projects. In this show, which he is also executive producer for, Waititi gives us a quippy, chaotic, and remarkably layered portrayal of the legendary pirate Blackbeard.
It’s important to note that Our Flag Means Death is officially classified as a romantic comedy. Over the course of ten episodes, we see how this plays out in various forms. The best part? All of the romances in the show are queer. Overlapping representation is seen through BIPOC characters, a non-binary character (played by non-binary actor Vico Ortiz), and queer characters. Not only that, but the main romance that unfolds is between the show’s two middle-aged male characters, Stede Bonnet and Edward “Ed” Teach/Blackbeard.
What is perhaps the most beautiful thing about the show is the way queer identities and sexualities are portrayed. Though Our Flag Means Death does incorporate some of the historical precedent of sexism, racism, and homophobia at the time, it simultaneously showcases a progressive level of modern acceptance. It reminds me of how Schitt’s Creek did it: by actively not creating dramatization around being queer, non-binary, trans, or any other hurdle related to sexual identity. Instead, the drama comes from the characters simply being human, and the inherently emotional and dramatic events which unfold in their lives. Though questions of identity are a recurring theme in this show, characters’ personal traumas are almost never related to their sexuality.
Something I realized after watching the show is how rare it is to see so many layers of intersectionality in one series. And though it is first and foremost a romantic comedy, Our Flag Means Death incorporates more drama into it than one may think. Themes of trauma and heartbreak run deep, and the result is an extremely well-rounded narrative with loads of potential for future seasons.
The Historical Elements
Let’s be clear: Our Flag Means Death is not a historically accurate period piece, nor is it trying to be! The show both does and doesn’t take itself too seriously, blending elements of periodic accuracy with blatantly modern components. New Zealand-style humour mixes with North American “workplace comedy” to create a delightfully bizarre, cheesy, and borderline nonsensical show, one that ultimately grounds itself through its many emotional moments.
All that said, some quick googling made me realize the surprising way the show uses history — like the names of people and places who seem like they couldn’t possibly be real — and adapt them into the narrative. For instance, The Republic of Pirates was indeed a real place; Stede Bonnet really was nicknamed ‘The Gentleman Pirate’; and he and Blackbeard did in fact cross paths. The show is oddly historically relevant, bringing various factoids together to paint a picture of something that could be true if the right circumstances were met. Though timelines are certainly exaggerated, situations are stretched, and modern jargon is used, Our Flag Means Death has transformed real history into a wholly enjoyable fictionalized interpretation.
At the heart of it, Jenkins expertly applies the classic “opposites attract” trope to Stede and Blackbeard. Blackbeard is a character of no restraint, and we see how this takes a toll on him. He doesn’t always want to be root-less, or a force of chaos, or to live life with no friends and allies. Stede, on the other hand, is one of constant restraint, always trying to fit into a box that was never the right fit for him. Their only commonality is that they share a similar sense of ennui, and the result is an unconventional love story where both parties bring out the qualities in each other that they wish to see in themselves.
Comedians Creating Dramas
Many of the cast members in Our Flag Means Death are typically known as comedic actors, which is why I was so pleasantly surprised to see how many heartfelt, romantic, and downright poetic moments there were in the show. It has quickly become regarded as one of the best shows for queer representation, carrying so much weight and importance in the stories it delivers.
This made me realize that so many of the modern dramas we currently revere are helmed by comedians. Think of Barry written by Bill Hader; Ted Lasso by Jason Sudeikis; countless Marvel movies (Captain America: Winter Soldier and Avengers: Endgame were directed by Community and Arrested Development producers the Russo brothers, and of course the newer Thor films were taken over by Taika Waititi). The through thread of these comedic writers creating dramatic content is that they deliver things that are fun, aesthetically different, and tonally quirky. Yet, they never fail to tie it back to the drama in a hard-hitting and authentic way. Those who we thought were only good for giving us ‘ridiculous’ actually seem to be the best for digging into the nuances of the human condition. It’s amazing to see that so many dramas created by comedians are not outliers anymore. And it’s exactly this type of genre defying content that I’d love to see more of.
Queerbaiting, Who?
I’d be remiss if I didn’t talk about how canonical queer love in Our Flag Means Death defies everything about the frustrating practice of queerbaiting. I’ve talked about queerbaiting before and why this manipulative tactic needs to be abandoned. Showrunner and creator David Jenkins even discusses this in an interview, where he hits the nail on the head about how harmful and damaging queerbaiting can be: “It’s like, oh, you were made to feel stupid by a bunch of shows — unintentionally, by and large, I think — but made to feel like “maybe I’m going to be up there. Maybe that’ll be me in this story.” And then at the end of it feeling like, “Aw. No, it’s not me. I’m not in this one.” That f*cks with you at any age, I think, but especially when you’re young and impressionable. I know it would make me feel that I didn’t belong, and I think that’s part of where the response to [Our Flag Means Death] comes from.“
If you don’t yet believe in the traumatizing effects of queerbaiting, simply go on social media and see how many viewers are commenting that the show “doesn’t feel real,” or “feels like they’re in the twilight zone” because of how much it celebrates queer love. This article by the The Atlantic’s Emma Sarappo even states, “Our Flag Means Death features a queer love story, but many viewers still found themselves wondering if they were just imagining it.” This just goes to show that, though it’s incredible that Our Flag Means Death gives queer communities the content they’ve been wanting for years, the larger issue of lack of representation is exposed. One that can only be rectified with more media that loudly and proudly showcase its queerness.
Of course, viewers were left with a devastating cliffhanger in the season finale, the effects of which will be even more devastating if HBO fails to renew the show. (Seriously, what’s taking them so long? High ratings, high demand, popular actors, and overwhelmingly positive feedback… what’s there to think about?) While it’s truly anxiety-inducing waiting for a renewal announcement that holds so much importance for many of us, I’m choosing to stay optimistic. Plus, I’d like to think that even in the worst-case scenario, Jenkins, Waititi, and the dedicated cast and crew will simply take their story to another network.
No matter what happens with Our Flag Means Death, it has truly made its mark and legacy as a series that has broken barriers, made a hugely positive impact on people around the globe, and shown us what it would be like to live in a world where our sexualities are not the only defining factors of our lives.
~ Z ~
Feature images sourced from TV Insider and Medium
