Queer as Folk (US) - pondering Brian Kinney
We finished the final season of Queer as Folk (US) last night. I'm sad. I know I shouldn't be, beyond just the fact that the series is over. I mean, Michael and Ben have each other and Hunter, Debbie has Carl, Mel and Lindsey are back together with their kids, Ted's found Blake, and Emmett has a pretty boy following him around plus the possibility of Drew in the future, not to mention Justin having a solid art career ahead of him and Brian still reigning as the king of Babylon. I should feel good about them.
Yet I'm sad, not for most of them but for Brian. You have to understand that I love Brian Kinney. I don't want to be friends with him, I don't often agree with him, and I frequently don't even like him, but I love him so much. I love his attitude, his vulnerability, and his spark. I love him when he's an ass, I love him when he's stoned, and I love him when he's being surprisingly sweet. Gale doesn't play him; he inhabits him. As much as I love the other characters, too, I love Brian the most.
I've never ventured into QAF fandom because I hear very frightening things about the wars between Brian/Justin 'shippers and Brian/Michael 'shippers. I can easily 'ship him with either of them and have no interest in getting caught in the cross-fire. Right now, though, I'm contemplating lurking a bit, because I'm so sad for Brian.
The image of Brian dancing alone in Babylon was supposed to reassure us that the thumpa-thumpa goes on, and I completely understand why the writers chose to end with him being the untouchable (but very fuckable) Brian Kinney. He's the icon of the show. Still, in many ways the end of the series is a tragedy for him. As much as he's changed and let people in, from his son to his friends to Justin, he's left alone. His BFF, Michael, has a life that Brian doesn't understand and can't truly be a part of (which is partially his own fault), his almost-sister Lindsey has moved to another country, taking his son with her, and the one person whom he loves despite himself, Justin, has gone to New York. No matter how much they spin that they'll all see each other and be in each other's lives, Brian's the odd man out. He's the one who doesn't have his son in his life now that he's finally thawing enough to show him he cares. He's the one who will be obviously alone at gatherings of their impromptu family, if he can get over his ego and go. He's the one who will be dancing at Babylon late into the night, stoned and empty, surrounded by people who don't care about him, while the rest of his friends experience some sort of love. Even Ted and Emmett have each other as friends in a way that Brian doesn't have with Michael because of Ben. Over the span of the series he's let himself be open and be more than the hot club boy he was, and he ends up with little to show for it but loss.
I know that he's in many ways the embodiment of the vibrant club scene and that lots of men and women, gay or straight, choose that life over one of domesticity. I'm not saying that they shouldn't or that they'll be less fulfilled in their lives than anyone else. If they're happy, they should do it. Brian, however, is unhappy. You can see it in his face, in his body. He wants to be loved. He doesn't know how to accept it or even quite how to give it, but he needs it. It's clear how crushed he is by the rift with Michael and by losing Justin over and over again. His reactions to the bomb at Babylon only make it clearer how deeply he feels about them and what lengths he's willing to go to help them. He might repress his emotions and put on his infuriatingly bland face when faced with loss, but he still feels the pain, even if he won't admit it to them or to himself. If he were happy, I wouldn't mind the ending, but I simply can't believe that he is. He wants more, but he doesn't know quite how to reach for it; he's still the unloved child he once was when it comes to that sort of thing. When he has tried in his own inimitable Brian Kinney way, he's lost it.
I'm hopeful that he and Justin will drift back together, since it's clear that they're not splitting apart entirely. They still love each other, and even Brian admits it. I have this vision of Justin getting fed up with the art world and moving back home or of Brian moving to Manhattan and taking over the advertising world there. Debbie and Michael won't let Brian slip from their family, even if he tries. Michael will make Brian unthaw enough to go visit Mel and Linds, and Brian will be a complete jerk but still light up with Gus. There's hope for him.
But still. I can't help but be sad at Brian's arc. I don't see him dancing alone in Babylon as his happy ending. Sure, life isn't all happy endings, but everyone else sort of got one. They may have been trying to give him one, too, but it's all smoke and mirrors, unreal. Just like Babylon, it loses its magic in the light of day, and it has to close eventually. He can't go on as a club boy forever, dancing 'til he's old and grey. The extra clip on the DVD of the new boy coming to Liberty Avenue at the end, showing that the thumpa-thumpa constantly draws in fresh blood and gives them a new life, only makes me feel worse; people will come and go, but Brian's trapped there, unable for a variety of reasons, some of them his own issues, to get out. He's seen more, he's done more, he's felt more, but he's still there.
Whether or not it's what the writers intended, I've seen Brian Kinney change in profound ways, but I haven't yet seen him reap the rewards. I want that for him. And so I am sad.
Yet I'm sad, not for most of them but for Brian. You have to understand that I love Brian Kinney. I don't want to be friends with him, I don't often agree with him, and I frequently don't even like him, but I love him so much. I love his attitude, his vulnerability, and his spark. I love him when he's an ass, I love him when he's stoned, and I love him when he's being surprisingly sweet. Gale doesn't play him; he inhabits him. As much as I love the other characters, too, I love Brian the most.
I've never ventured into QAF fandom because I hear very frightening things about the wars between Brian/Justin 'shippers and Brian/Michael 'shippers. I can easily 'ship him with either of them and have no interest in getting caught in the cross-fire. Right now, though, I'm contemplating lurking a bit, because I'm so sad for Brian.
The image of Brian dancing alone in Babylon was supposed to reassure us that the thumpa-thumpa goes on, and I completely understand why the writers chose to end with him being the untouchable (but very fuckable) Brian Kinney. He's the icon of the show. Still, in many ways the end of the series is a tragedy for him. As much as he's changed and let people in, from his son to his friends to Justin, he's left alone. His BFF, Michael, has a life that Brian doesn't understand and can't truly be a part of (which is partially his own fault), his almost-sister Lindsey has moved to another country, taking his son with her, and the one person whom he loves despite himself, Justin, has gone to New York. No matter how much they spin that they'll all see each other and be in each other's lives, Brian's the odd man out. He's the one who doesn't have his son in his life now that he's finally thawing enough to show him he cares. He's the one who will be obviously alone at gatherings of their impromptu family, if he can get over his ego and go. He's the one who will be dancing at Babylon late into the night, stoned and empty, surrounded by people who don't care about him, while the rest of his friends experience some sort of love. Even Ted and Emmett have each other as friends in a way that Brian doesn't have with Michael because of Ben. Over the span of the series he's let himself be open and be more than the hot club boy he was, and he ends up with little to show for it but loss.
I know that he's in many ways the embodiment of the vibrant club scene and that lots of men and women, gay or straight, choose that life over one of domesticity. I'm not saying that they shouldn't or that they'll be less fulfilled in their lives than anyone else. If they're happy, they should do it. Brian, however, is unhappy. You can see it in his face, in his body. He wants to be loved. He doesn't know how to accept it or even quite how to give it, but he needs it. It's clear how crushed he is by the rift with Michael and by losing Justin over and over again. His reactions to the bomb at Babylon only make it clearer how deeply he feels about them and what lengths he's willing to go to help them. He might repress his emotions and put on his infuriatingly bland face when faced with loss, but he still feels the pain, even if he won't admit it to them or to himself. If he were happy, I wouldn't mind the ending, but I simply can't believe that he is. He wants more, but he doesn't know quite how to reach for it; he's still the unloved child he once was when it comes to that sort of thing. When he has tried in his own inimitable Brian Kinney way, he's lost it.
I'm hopeful that he and Justin will drift back together, since it's clear that they're not splitting apart entirely. They still love each other, and even Brian admits it. I have this vision of Justin getting fed up with the art world and moving back home or of Brian moving to Manhattan and taking over the advertising world there. Debbie and Michael won't let Brian slip from their family, even if he tries. Michael will make Brian unthaw enough to go visit Mel and Linds, and Brian will be a complete jerk but still light up with Gus. There's hope for him.
But still. I can't help but be sad at Brian's arc. I don't see him dancing alone in Babylon as his happy ending. Sure, life isn't all happy endings, but everyone else sort of got one. They may have been trying to give him one, too, but it's all smoke and mirrors, unreal. Just like Babylon, it loses its magic in the light of day, and it has to close eventually. He can't go on as a club boy forever, dancing 'til he's old and grey. The extra clip on the DVD of the new boy coming to Liberty Avenue at the end, showing that the thumpa-thumpa constantly draws in fresh blood and gives them a new life, only makes me feel worse; people will come and go, but Brian's trapped there, unable for a variety of reasons, some of them his own issues, to get out. He's seen more, he's done more, he's felt more, but he's still there.
Whether or not it's what the writers intended, I've seen Brian Kinney change in profound ways, but I haven't yet seen him reap the rewards. I want that for him. And so I am sad.