Episode three of HBO’s “The Last of Us” features an introductory sequence of a man in a dark bunker, lit only by the security cam footage of military operations outside his house. Hearing thumps from inside his home, he clutches his firearm until he hears confirmation that the military thinks his house is empty. With the grizzled bass of an alternate timeline Ron Swanson, he whispers, “Not today, you New World Order jackboot fucks.” What follows is the most devastating gay love story — no, any love story — no, any story — that I have ever bore witness to in a television episode.
Of course, this response isn’t entirely universal, despite massive critical praise. In a show centered on the cross-country trek of its two protagonists — Joel (Pedro Pascal, “The Mandalorian”) and Ellie (Bella Ramsey, “Hilda”) — during a zombie apocalypse, cries of “filler” rang out over the decision to dedicate most of episode three to the love story of hyper-survivalist Bill (Nick Offerman, “Parks and Recreation”), and Frank (Murray Bartlett, “The White Lotus”), the man Bill survives for. Even worse (and even more predictably), many of these negative reactions were steeped in homophobia, especially when Queerness came up again in Episode six, this time involving the protagonist Ellie. This backlash has always existed for the franchise, stemming from the initial reveal of Ellie’s lesbian identity in the game series the show is adapted from: “The Last of Us: Part II” and the “Left Behind” DLC for the original “The Last of Us.” This response has been dismissed ad infinitum, but for this article, I’d like to address them in earnest. Please, if you’ve clicked on this article with the views I’ve just mentioned, I’d love the chance for us to talk — because episodes three and six do elevate HBO’s “The Last of Us” with their Queer choices.
Let’s touch on elevation first. The inclusion of these two stories are dismissed as filler because they’re not directly included in the first two games, and they focus on much more mundane activities, like Bill and Frank’s homemaking or Ellie and her best friend Riley (Storm Reid, “Euphoria”) hanging out in a mall, when compared to the zombie shoot-and-stealth action of the games. The principle of adaptation requires communication of a story between different formats, but it doesn’t require one-to-one translation. The games feature action heavily as a mechanism to keep their chosen format engaging, but television allows us to slow down. It can divert when necessary into much slower stories where it feels like the stakes are much lower (although they’re still living in a zombie apocalypse, so that danger’s always present). What goes beyond communication in the adaptive process however is elevation, using the format’s strengths to enhance the art. Stories focusing on different characters that aren’t the protagonists aren’t meant to waste your time, but to flesh out the world and its characters even further — and these have always been the franchise’s priorities. I mean, it’s not called “The Last of Joel,” but “The Last of Us,” right?
And so who are these remaining few after everything the apocalypse has put them through? Well, there’s Bill — the Gadsden flag-waving, New World Order resisting, 9/11 truther — and the love of his life, Frank — a musician, a painter, a homemaker. Their dynamic as a man who knows how to survive and a man who knows how to live may clash at times, but they ultimately complete each other. Then there’s Ellie and Riley: teenage best friends diverting to different sides of a post-apocalyptic power struggle but realizing that their love for each other is stronger than either. Also, they’re all gay. This Queerness is interwoven into their identities, their character struggles and how they connect with the world around them.
Back to Bill and Frank for a second, to these men so clearly worn by the world. Bill offers a different perspective on the apocalypse, one of merry misanthropy from his clear ecstasy at the world’s end, gathering up all the supplies he can after his town’s evacuation for his solitary survivalist Elysium. Years pass and Frank comes by, and after charming his way into Bill’s home, they find themselves at a piano. Frank correctly guesses Bill’s favorite song — “Long Long Time” by Linda Ronstadt — and drums up a cheery, if not amateurish, rendition of the piece and reflective of his experience with love. Bill stops him, then plays his version at Frank’s request — slower, sadder, the toll of the lonely life he’s been forced to live. There’s a moment of silence and Frank asks, “So, who’s the girl? Girl you’re singing about?” With the choked-up and surprising vulnerability only Nick Offerman can produce, he whispers, “There is no girl.” After Bill’s hesitation and heart battle it out, what follows is one of the most tender gay kisses — no, any kiss — no, any moment I’ve ever bore witness to in a television episode.
But that hesitation is more than just shyness, right? The show’s apocalypse started in 2003 when the Supreme Court had just ruled the criminalization of gayness unconstitutional, much less accept or legalize gay marriage. Bill’s town — Lincoln, Massachusetts — would be in the first state to legalize gay marriage a year later, but that doesn’t happen in the show’s alternative history. Instead, Bill — an already graying man when the world ends — has spent decades in this lonesome life. Of course, that hesitation melts away when he realizes the forces subjugating him ended with the rest of the world. If those who opposed these characters’ identities are still with us, can I ask you if you know where that disdain for seeing these two men kiss came from? Is it your politics? Is it your religious beliefs? Well, that’s what this episode is asking you: When the governments and gods fail us, what will we have besides each other — besides love, in whatever form it could possibly take?
“The Last of Us” is a cruel, cruel world. It is dark and vicious and unforgiving, but that’s where these bright spots of tenderness shine through the most. It’s also a world covered with greenery, where the human impact on the environment is decreasing and where Bill and Frank can love each other without obstacles at the end of the world, not in a New World Order, but certainly a kinder one. In that last way, it’s certainly doing better than ours, where people want to end the Queer world: when Queer culture is being outlawed, when Conservative Political Action Conference speakers can say “transgenderism must be eradicated,” when gay marriage is legalized in only 16% of the world’s countries — it makes the world of “The Last of Us” that much more special, where love and identity are able to be cherished.
The episode leaves us with the simple heart-struck words only Bill can muster, “I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong, because there was one person worth saving.” It’s still a world worth dying for — no, worth living for — no, worth loving for.
Digital Culture Beat Editor Saarthak Johri can be reached at sjohri@umich.edu.