System of Sapphires

Gay representation in Spies Are Forever: It’s complicated.

First of all, as a queer person, this musical has lodged itself into my heart and become a part of my identity. Specifically the characters of Curt and Owen have become what I affectionately refer to as my “brain parasites.” They haunt my brain every moment of every day and night, conscious and subconscious. I can make anything into a Spies reference.

That being said, a piece of media does not have to be perfect for me to love it and embed it into my soul. I am sure the creators themselves would acknowledge that there are some problems in the original production, based on the fact that they changed certain lines and lyrics in later concert versions of the show. The song “We Love the Prince!” is a large example of that, with nearly all of the insults directed towards the Prince being changed to be less ableist and body-shaming. Not to mention the original use of “homeless” as an insult to one’s appearance in the song “Pay Attention!”

But what about the gay representation? What about that is problematic?

The thing is, even if there was nothing wrong with it in the story individually, we always have to consider media within a larger context of representation, stereotypes, and tropes. As a parody of the action genre as a whole, Spies is not necessarily attempting to be revolutionary. Still, that doesn’t mean that we can’t approach it with a more critical lens when analyzing its impact.

I wouldn’t say that there’s anything necessarily wrong with the way the representation is done. There are nuances and gray areas, but nothing egregious. For example, both of the main gay characters in Spies are played by non-gay men. I don’t know if they are queer or cishet, and I’m not trying to speculate on that. However, one of the three writers is a gay man. Also, one of the problems in movies and television with having straight actors play gay characters is that gay actors are often not given as many roles and opportunities, so having roles that should be guaranteed for them handed to someone else who doesn’t have any lived experience with being in that minority is... not great. It’s also the case that straight actors tend to lean on stereotype, and even if they try their best, there’s always the chance it comes across as mocking. None of that really applies to Spies, since these are not big casting directors, and this is a group that pretty much always casts all their friends. And personally, the performances do not come across as mocking in any way. This might have something to do with the gay writer, but that doesn’t take away from it.

I’m not an expert by any means on queer media in the 2010s. In 2016 when Spies was released I was 9-10 years old and didn’t even know that I was queer. I don’t know that much about the history of cinema or theater or anything like that. I do know there is a trope about burying your gays, which applies to Spies in an interesting way. The main character of the show is gay, and he does not die. However, one of the other main characters, who is also gay, does. Owen, who might be seen as a bit more effeminate, a bit more flamboyant, is the one who dies. The one who acts less straight and heteronormative. The one who feels burned by the world, wants revenge, and is killed for it. The one who wants change and revolution, who isn’t satisfied with being used as a weapon rather than being seen as a person. The one who refuses to conform.

I’m going to be honest and say I don’t know how I feel about that. I do know that Owen dying crushes my soul and gives me physical pain to think about due to the amount of emotional distress it causes. This has less to do with gays being buried and more to due with my hyper-empathy and my preference for happy endings. Still, I truly hate the fact that Owen dies. He was the original victim, and I understand that oftentimes villains are formed by taking their victimization too far and twisting themselves so far into revenge that they’re unrecognizable. But to me, I see a man who wronged his partner, and later kills him because he doesn’t want to deal with what his own actions have caused. With what his partner has become because of him. I also know that my a) fucked up relationship with guilt; b) low self-worth; and c) deep-down obsessive need to be a ‘good person’ mean that if I were in Curt’s position, I would far sooner kill myself than even think about moving on from the person who’s life I’ve ruined. And due to the aforementioned hyper-empathy, I find it fully impossible to separate my strong feelings about what I would do from the musical itself. I cannot appreciate the writing decisions to have Curt grow from being stuck in his guilt and ultimately move forward and move on. I cannot see why they would make this choice instead of having the lovers reconcile in some way and move forward together. I cannot see why Owen deserved to die when his ultimate crime was anger at what had been done to him.

When I think about this, I get even more distressed because I cannot tell if the writers intended this to be seen as a horrible tragedy or a triumphant happy ending. I do know that Curt’s speech about men being superior to computers is meant to be ironic, since we are, of course, living in the real world, in which theoretically Chimera must have won. He clearly ended up failing in his mission to stop digital surveillance from eliminating privacy and the need for spies. Does this mean that the entire ending is meant to be dramatically ironic? That we are meant to see his decision to murder Owen as the wrong one? I doubt this, considering other small comments I have heard from the writers that make me think we are meant to be glad that Curt is moving on, rather than upset. That we are meant to cheer for him to move on, even while we mourn Owen. I cannot see a world in which that could ever be the case for me. I would rather he killed himself than Owen. I would rather he wallow in misery forever than move on. I know that’s probably because I’m fucked up and not necessarily a good opinion to have, but I really don’t think I can change this about myself. Maybe someday when I’ve built up a sense of self-worth, worked through all of my guilt issues, and no longer feel like if I’m not a perfectly wonderful person then I should just die, I will feel differently. It’s hard for me to imagine that future.

At the end of the day, I think Curt’s ending is meant to be at least somewhat happy. He has stopped wallowing in guilt. He is back at his job that he loves. Even though he seems to have learned no lessons. Even though he has returned to alcoholism, to isolating himself and refusing to work with others, to recklessness and lack of self-preservation. Even though he doesn’t seem really at all upset about having killed Owen, which implies that he is heavily repressing his emotions and refusing to truly process his grief. Even though he refuses to lean on the support of his friends even when they offer it. Even though he has not really grown at all, even though he’s exactly back where he started but now he’s murdered his partner.

But Owen doesn’t get a happy ending. He was the wrong kind of gay. He felt things too strongly, he was too theatrical, and he didn’t pass as straight well enough to get to live. He can be a fun character to watch, we can laugh at his dramatics, we can cry at his death. But he doesn’t get to live. He doesn’t get to love. He doesn’t get resolution at all. He dies still telling himself that he wants Curt dead. He never addresses his own internal conflict between love and hate. While Curt refuses to grow, Owen doesn’t get the chance to. He is killed, and therefore immortalized as the monster. Frozen in time as the villain. The twisted monstrosity who let revenge and passion consume him until the only thing to do was to put him down. He is not given the chance to be a person again. He becomes a caricature, his only depth being his past and his history with the protagonist. He becomes a vessel, a means to an end, whose purpose is to allow Curt to move on. He is no longer Owen Carvour, Curt’s partner in crime and heart. He is now a villainous corpse to bury. Something to learn from. If he were a woman, we’d call that fridging. It seems wrong to apply that term to a man, but gay men have been aligned with women historically in many ways. I don’t think it’s that much of a stretch to link them here.

Curt, at the end of the day, is the masculine ideal, regardless of his homosexuality. Whereas Owen can never bury himself enough to pass as straight. So he had to be buried by someone else.

Now that I’ve put it that way, it does bother me. Something that impacts me so heavily was only actually meant to be a tool for Curt to grow. Curt the coward, the selfish misogynist, the straight-passing masculine ideal. That doesn’t feel good to me. That doesn’t feel right. Owen Carvour is the only person I have ever actually grieved. And he’s not real. But his death was only meant to be a catalyst for change. He was never meant to be mourned. Curt’s grief for him originally was shown to be bad for him. Sure, one can take anything too far, but in the end, Owen isn’t allowed to be truly mourned. Curt moves on once he’s actually dead. And so, Owen was only ever mourned when he was still alive. That’s fucked up. That feels fucked up to me.

Spies doesn’t bury all its gays; only the ones that take being gay too far. Who aren’t satisfied with their lot in life, who don’t settle for being stuck in a role they don’t want, who advocate for change and stand up for themselves. The ones who are hurting, who have been hurt, and deep down need someone to understand. But no one does. No one reaches out, and they die. And this is the triumphant moment for the protagonist. This is the happy ending. Where only the gays who conform are allowed to survive, and only selfishness gets you ahead in life.

He had to be crushed for them to kill him. He had to be reduced to a two-dimensional version of himself, he had to be evil. But he doesn’t read as evil to me. He doesn’t read as too far gone. He reads as someone that could very easily be saved, if only anyone cared enough to try. Curt tried a little, but gave up rather quickly, all things considered. This man he’s supposedly been hung up on for four fucking years tortures him and threatens to replace spies with computers and it only takes a little bit of arguing before Curt decides the only option is to murder him.

But was Curt ever actually mourning him, or was he just that bothered by the idea that he wasn’t the best? After all, if he was the best spy in the world, he wouldn’t have been the sole cause of his partner’s death like that. Was he consumed by embarrassment and shame from his actions? Or was it actually grief for the man he supposedly loved? Because if he really loved him, I don’t understand how he wouldn’t keep trying to save him. Maybe that’s what’s been bothering me. What I thought was my own fucked-up mental shit was also the fact that you don’t do that to someone you love. I can see how you might get so arrogant and careless that you cause an accident, that you walk away from someone you love. I don’t see how you would shoot them between the eyes for becoming a villain and seeking revenge after that. Not if you really loved them. Not if you had an ounce of bravery in your body, rather than just the hunger for adrenaline and action.

And I don’t know if I even love anyone. On the one hand, I love everyone, and I would sacrifice my life for a stranger’s very easily. On the other hand, I see my close friends 2-3 times a year, or not at all. I don’t love my parents because they don’t love me. I want to love my sibling but I don’t really know who they are as a person. I love my online friends but I worry I’m nothing to them. I hate hurting people. I hate saying something that might hurt on accident. It makes me feel like the worst person in the world. If I were the sole cause of the death of someone I loved, I would kill myself. I’m not suicidal. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself in that scenario. And if they came back to life, I would feel like I am obligated to make sure they have a good life. I’m responsible for ruining their life, so their happiness is now my responsibility. My only purpose in life would be to support them. That’s because I’m fucked up in the head, but is it also because I’m more genuine in my love for people? And I’m aromantic, too. I don’t need to love anyone romantically to know that you don’t do that to someone you love.

I started out this essay because I was thinking about representation, the historical importance/significance of happy endings in queer media, and burying your gays. I suddenly had too many thoughts about Curt living while Owen dies, so I decided writing an essay would be the best way to sort everything out. I have since become angry, and now just... a resigned sort of sad. Nothing has changed from writing this. Curt and Owen will continue to be my brain parasites, making me write fanfiction where they’re happy and together otherwise they will eat my brain. I will continue thinking about them in the back of my mind, asleep and awake, at all times. But now maybe I feel a little more justified and a little less completely crazy in how and how much Owen’s death affects me. After all, it’s faster to list things that don’t cause me physical pain than things that do. Strong emotions often make my chest hurt. Feeling grief for the first time and not knowing how to handle it makes sense that it might manifest in that way.

So. The representation: good, bad? Yes. Good in a lot of ways, something to think more deeply about in others. It resonates with a lot of queer people, which is always good, but doesn’t necessarily always mean that the representation is actually good quality. Like I said: It’s complicated.

I know everyone is affected by Owen’s death. I know everyone is not normal about Spies. Doesn’t change the fact that I feel completely alone in this specific experience of physical pain and brain parasites and the first time with grief. Other people are capable of writing angst without happy endings. I cannot physically do that. It’s like when I try to breathe through my diaphragm and it just doesn’t expand properly. People talking about how they’re similarly fucked up about Spies just makes me feel more alone because it’s never genuinely the same but then that just makes me feel like an asshole who doesn’t appreciate people trying to empathize. Maybe it’s just because being misunderstood bothers me. And people saying they understand when they clearly don’t is upsetting and isolating. Feels like I’ll never be understood, no matter how I explain it. I guess in this case I prefer sympathy to attempted empathy.