Well, it took eight episodes, but Queer As Folk made me cry. Not just cry. Bawl. There’s a chance, of course, that the two moments that made me wholly lose my composure triggered something that has little to do with the show itself (and, perhaps, plenty to do with me), but there’s no denying that Stephen Dunn, Jaclyn Moore, and the cast and crew of this gem of a show successfully pushed my buttons and turned me into a blubbering mess. In a cathartic way, of course. It may have been an ugly cry, but there was something beautiful about what first got me tearing up. Which, yes, had to do with Mingus. Of course it did.
The specter of HIV/AIDS looms large for a lot of us born in the 1980s. Mingus may not be of my generation (let us not try to do that math, please), but the detached anguish he nevertheless finds himself feeling upon needing to break the news to his mother is what broke me. Actually, Juliette Lewis’s pitch-perfect anxious laughter reaction and her utterance of ten simple words is what drove me over the edge: “I thought you were gonna tell me you were dying.”
Before then, the scene had felt all too familiar for those of us who have grown up on a steady diet of Longtime Companion and In the Gloaming, of The Normal Heart and Angels in America, of storylines on Melrose Place, Queer as Folk (Showtime, of course) and perhaps most recently, Pose. Breaking the news of an HIV-positive diagnosis has long been a dramatic showcase, a climax of unleashed cathartic emotions. Even as Mingus (Fin Argus) braces himself for the shame, guilt, or disappointment he expects to feel when he tells his mother the news, all he gets instead is laughter. And a sigh of relief. It felt like a gut punch because I knew what kind of scene I was in, but, as with the most thrilling and exciting moments in QAF’s first season, this moment swerved left enough to surprise me.
And if you’re wondering what the other moment that had me tearing up was, just know it was Mingus’ drag performance to the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s “Sacrilege” (“Fallen for a guy, fell down from the sky”), which also had me thinking of Tony Kushner’s brilliant magnum opus. Here was a fallen angel self-flagellating himself in front of a crowd asking for … penance? Forgiveness? More life, perhaps? It was beautiful and touching and made me forgive Mingus’ decision to forgo his wig at the end of the performance; high praise!
Let me back up a bit: The season finale of Queer As Folk ends where it all began (and I don’t just mean Brodie next to that BLM-tatted white boy whose screensaver looks suspiciously like the Showtime QAF opening credits). No, I mean at Babylon, which Bussey intends to refashion into the queer space NOLA deserves. A way to channel the Ghost Fag energy into a space that’s remained empty and perhaps somewhat haunted since the shooting all those months ago. All they need is Brodie’s help. Well, Brodie’s credit score. And even as Brodie threatens to leave New Orleans and start anew (in Manchester of all places!), it is clear he can’t well let go of all he has (and loves).
This brings us to that rain-soaked romcom moment that closes out the episode. Were you surprised? Were you thrilled? Were you awash in conflicting emotions yet already imagining the kind of blended Brady Bunch-kind of family Brodie, Ruthie, Brenda, and Shar (and Flo and Jet) could come to build together? We may not know what awaits the two longtime BFFs who now have professed their love, as inconvenient and ill-timed as it may be (Ruthie’s recently engaged!), but it is a lovely button of a moment that reminds us that Ruthie and Brodie have been the emotional anchor of the season — something that the “Bleep” episode really drove home. In fact, it all but set in motion and laid the groundwork for everything we needed so that this final scene could pay off.
The season ends in a moment of rebuilding. An attempt at rebuilding. At picking up the pieces of a broken mirror ball and hopefully making something equally as fabulous. Unsurprisingly, Queer As Folk squarely presented itself as a show about resilience. That may sound trite or overwrought in 2022 when we should expect and get queer stories that aren’t rooted (solely) in trauma. Yet the brilliance of Queer As Folk (2022) is that it feels like a glittering triumph when it’s keyed into the sense of joy and possibility that emerges against and because of hardship. A way of finding the light in the dark and uplifting it, in turn. Mingus’s drag artistry, Brodie’s Ghost Fag venue, Marvin’s sex party, Noah and Julian’s relationship — even Ruthie and Shar’s family — there’s no way to disentangle them from the challenges each of those characters have faced. And to do is to avoid grappling with the sheer breadth and beauty of the LGBTQ+ community. Because that’s what life is. That’s what queer life is.
Now let us hope we get to follow these folks for many more seasons to come!
Fun as F - - -
• Bussey’s OUTFIT! I can’t be the only one having Shea Coulée season nine ball flashbacks when admiring Bussey’s construction worker realness getup, right? I will say, the hard hat over the blue-haired updo is just divine. Though, can we talk about the lack of protective goggles during this demo?! Maybe I’ve watched too much HGTV (and have an inexplicable fear of anything lodging itself in my eyes), but oh my God, how were you destroying a MIRROR BALL without any kind of protection?! I mean, I love me a good demo-rave (and, also, any excuse to get the cast of this show sweatily and shirtless dancing in very flattering lighting), but, c’mon, let’s be safe about it!
• “Did you lose someone in the ::pew pew!::?” I waited an entire season for a Juliette Lewis/Kim Cattrall moment, and this fumbling meet-cute did not disappoint. More of them together next season, please?
• Speaking of Cattrall: OH. MY. GOD. That coming out scene? I’m still recovering over the level of cringe that she nevertheless sold as somehow melancholy though never pathetic? Truly masterful control of a scene that could and would have otherwise gone off the rails in the hands of a lesser actress.
• “Eating your ass isn’t self-care. It’s rock bottom.” Just a great read, no?
• When you have so many characters and subplots, you’re bound to have to wrap some up much more efficiently than others. It’s the only way to explain how JCJ’s scam gets barely a mention and barely any follow-through in this episode (on a semi-related note, I did enjoy seeing Ali and Marvin getting their sweet, if brief, moment together).
• Some final songs to add to our ongoing QAF Pride 2022 playlist: Moderat’s “Bad Kingdom,” Slayyter ft. Big Freedia’s “Stupid Boy,” and yes, Caveboy’s “Find Me.”
