Morally Complex Queer Characters Are Taking Over TV

Despite reports that LGBTQ+ representation in film and television is heading on a downward spiral, there are still pieces of media breaking through the never-ending static of moving images. From coming-of-age series’ like Heartstopper to stand-out bottle episodes found in shows like The Last of Us, queer characters are still being highlighted, but the archetypes that are allowed to exist usually all have a common denominator: they’re nearly perfect. 

There has always been a consistent lack of queer characters that actually feel like real people in mainstream media, and it feels as if the end of the 2010s ushered in more than a handful of saccharine depictions of queerness, from the aforementioned Heartstopper (and its distinct lack of conflict) to slightly-heteronormative couples like Modern Family’s Cam and Mitch. Along with these perfect products of queerness are characters that aren’t necessarily given a chance to be fleshed out, instead existing in the background as a diversity check-mark rather than a meaningful inclusion in these series. Despite this overwhelming commitment to “good” representation, there has been a small uptick in shows that are showcasing unapologetically problematic LGBTQ+ characters—to incredible results. 

Of course, bad queer characters on screen aren’t necessarily new, but it feels like television is almost catching up to cinema. From the films of Gregg Araki to Pedro Almodovar, queer characters on the big screen have, thankfully, long been given the grace of being messy. While it’s taken some time, we’re headed in a direction where queer characters on TV are finally allowed to be “bad,” if the first half of 2024 is anything to go by.

The first show of 2024 that has highlighted more than just a few dynamic queer characters is Season 2 of AMC’s Interview with the Vampire. At the heart of this series is a group of queer vampires whose stories are interwoven to the point of meshing with one another, incapable of letting each other go. Despite decades and sometimes centuries, the vampires at the helm of this series don’t learn with age, and continue to be messy, manipulative, and so enticing to watch. 

In Season 2, these characters become even more complicated, as does their queerness. While there are many relationships in the series, the one between Armand (Assad Zaman) and Louis (Jacob Anderson) is the standout from this season, and one that is so tangled it’s impossible not to love. At the core of their relationship is the desire to be something they’re not and forget their pasts, and it quickly unfolds into a sensual and shattering BDSM relationship. The past is inescapable in Interview with the Vampire, and the two’s decades-long relationship slowly begins to crumble under the weight of each of their harbored secrets. 

It ultimately results in a shattering revelation that Armand was more than just complicit in Claudia’s (Delainey Hayles) death. Yet, when their relationship ends in glass shattering and walls cracking, it gives way to two separate, and equally as messy, relationships with different people: Lestat (Sam Reid) and Daniel (Eric Bogosian). There’s an unapologetic nature to Anne Rice’s vampires and the messy relationships they cultivate, and, thankfully, Season 2 upped the ante. By allowing these characters to bask in the deceit and treachery that defines this messy and pointedly queer relationship, showrunner Rolin Jones has offered fans a world where queerness and vampirism are intrinsically linked; where neither state of being is inherently “good” nor “bad,” but rather simply as complicated as a queer existence is in our real world. And in doing so, these characters have quickly become some of the most important representations of queerness offered in this century of television.

Pretty Little Liars: Summer School is another second season that blows the first out of the water. This season was shocking, heartfelt, and filled with, of course, relationship drama. At the center of the show’s romantic issues is Noa (Maia Reficco) and her relationship with her boyfriend Shawn (Alex Aiono), which falls apart in tandem with her burgeoning relationship with Jen (Ava Capri). When she and Jen share the screen for the first time, the look they share suggests that there’s a secret shared history there. We learn that this history began in juvie, where the two weren’t only cell mates, but were also lovers.

After Jen lands herself in jail for stealing from her father, Noa seeks out Shawn’s help in paying Jen’s bail. He helps her, and when she’s talking with Jen about the incident and apologizing for encouraging it, the two kiss. While Noa’s cheating on Shawn was ripped to shreds by PLL fans on Twitter, it made her one of the most interesting characters on the show. Yes, cheating is bad, but watching as Noa juggles these two relationships is not only entertaining, but thrilling. It adds another level of deceit to a show where everyone, including the Liars and their love interests, is a suspect. 

Noa, like her friends, isn’t perfect, and her relationship with both Shawn and Jen showcases this. She spends more time worrying about her budding relationship with Jen and her strained relationship with Shawn than she does worrying about Bloody Rose—this season’s new killer—which is the amount of ridiculousness that teen television is in desperate need of. Noa is allowed to be messy, and in doing so, the writers have cultivated one of the most interesting relationship dynamics in a series where well-plotted romance is otherwise lacking. 

Unlike Pretty Little Liars: Summer School, romance (and sex!) is the focus on Starz’s Mary & George. It could have been lost in the shuffle of the handful of period pieces to be released this year, but it was clear from its first episode that there was something special about this miniseries. At its core, it’s a story about a mother and son using their bodies to gain prominence in the court of King James VI and I (Tony Curran), and they’ll do whatever it takes to stay there. 

While the relationship is initially spearheaded by George’s (Nicholas Galitzine) mother, Mary (Julianne Moore), after she’s widowed and left penniless, his relationship with the king grows more fascinating as the series goes on. What started as a ploy to gain power quickly becomes a relationship that the two are both completely dependent on. James’ love for George is so authentic that it’s disarming to not only George, but the audience as well. It begins with heady gazes, oftentimes initiated after some violent acts, but quickly these glances morph from strictly lust to affection. 

Each sex scene doesn’t just depict two characters who are simply using sex to get what they want, but, rather, they convey a clear sense of all-consuming longing. The way their relationship unfolds makes it one of the most dynamic pairings on television this year, and it’s sparked by an initial seedy ploy. Both George and James have a penchant for the dramatics, and equally seem to be propelled by violence—inside the bedroom and outside of it. They’re a match made in freak-heaven, and watching as they slowly succumb to their nastiness in each other’s company is one of the finest delights of the year. 

Like Mary & George, Netflix’s Ripley is another stunning example of an adaptation done right. Unlike the bright cinematography that accompanied the 1999 film rendition of Patricia Highsmith’s novel, Ripley is set to a stark black-and-white exterior, enveloping its protagonist in a hypnotic darkness. This darkness fully exudes from Andrew Scott’s phenomenal rendition of the character, shedding the school-boy act for an older and meaner version of this iconic fictional figure that has captured readers and viewers for decades.

Despite Tom Ripley never having sex with a man in the series, this is perhaps one of the most textually queer examples of the character yet. Ripley’s fascination with Richard “Dickie” Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn) is given more space to breathe across eight episodes compared to its film counterpart, and the show is all the better for it. Here, Scott is able to not only delve deeper into Ripley’s queerness, but his villainess as well. The Ripley of  2024 is a man propelled by desire but a sense of longing as well. He wants to not only be Dickie, but wants to consume him and his likeness as well. 

Scott plays this multifaceted relationship with a charm perfectly fit for a villain like Ripley, and it aids in this knockout portrayal of a man determined to make it in life. Whether it be out of the fear of his sexuality or the fear of being inconsequential in life, Ripley is a desperate man making desperate decisions. While calculated at first, the ghosts of his past slowly come back to haunt him, further pushing him to the edge. And what a beautiful edge it is: eyes straining under the weight of a fake smile, and voice trembling even for only a moment. From Scott’s reverence to the sizzling writing, Ripley undeniably outshines its predecessors. 

And most importantly? None of these characters are punished for their evil deeds. Instead, they are given the space to bask in them, which is a reward in and of itself. It’s clear that queer audiences want more than just simply “good” or “positive” representation when it comes to seeing themselves on screen, and while the demand has always been there, Hollywood is finally catching up. Aforementioned series like Interview with the Vampire, Mary & George, Ripley, Pretty Little Liars, and so many more are breaking new ground for how queer people are portrayed on screen—and it also helps that they’re some of the most well-crafted shows on air. 

If this year is anything to go by, the future of queer television is not only bright but thankfully changing. With so many positive LGBTQ+ characters visible on TV, there needs to be room made for queers who are bad, messy, and even straight-up evil. The times where queer people had to fight for positive representation are over, and what we really need is more characters who aren’t afraid to bask in their meanness. Though it’s taken some time, it feels like television is finally taking this in stride, and the medium is undoubtedly better for it. 

Kaiya Shunyata is a freelance pop culture writer and academic based in Toronto. They have written for Rogerebert.com, Xtra, The Daily Dot, and more. You can follow them on Twitter, where they gab about film, queer subtext, and television.

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