Iconic villain is out of the closet in final ‘Saul’ season

ABOVE: Giancarlo Esposito in ‘Better Call Saul.’ Photo courtesy AMC.

When “Better Call Saul” aired its finale last month, it was the end of an era.

The critically lauded prequel series to “Breaking Bad” had amassed a loyal following by offering fans a chance to return for a deeper dive into the morally ambiguous universe Vince Gilligan had created around teacher-turned-meth-kingpin Walter White (Bryan Cranston) nearly 15 years ago.

Meticulously unfolding the saga of deceptively clownish strip mall lawyer Saul Goodman (Bob Odenkirk), it was elegantly cinematic, inscrutably layered, and impeccably crafted, proving itself every bit the equal of its predecessor. If “Breaking Bad” was a slow-burn crime thriller with the scope and dimension of a Shakespeare tragedy, “Better Call Saul” was a character-driven neo-noir meditation on the inevitability of corruption – yet they were unmistakably tied together by a signature note of irony and a relish for Hitchcockian suspense. They were also populated by a memorable cast of characters that viewers grew to love, despite their moral ambiguities – and among them, as “Saul” revealed at last, is one of the richest and most well-drawn queer characters in television history.

If you’ve never watched either show, you might be understandably surprised to learn that Gilligan’s blood-spattered mythos contained any significant LGBTQ presence. Indeed, even those who’ve seen both might not have realized it, though clues were planted all along the way; before we say more, however, it’s only fair to warn that there are spoilers for both “Breaking Bad” and “Better Call Saul” beyond this point.

We first meet Gustavo “Gus” Fring (Giancarlo Esposito) in “Breaking Bad” as the dapper and polite owner of fast-food chicken franchise Los Pollos Hermanos, though we quickly learn he runs a much more ambitious business, too. As a high-level meth distributor for a Mexican drug cartel with ambitions to capture the market for himself, he becomes Walter White’s principal rival, and the two men wage an escalating war of manipulation and dominance until Gus finally meets his fate in an explosive scene near the end of season four. It’s a high point in a series full of them, an exit worthy of a villain as complex and compelling as Gus.

It’s another scene in “Breaking Bad,” however, that provides this sinister and Machiavellian drug lord with the dimension that recasts him as a tragic hero. In an earlier episode, we are given a flashback to his younger days in Mexico, in which we learn that his meth enterprise began as a partnership with Max (James Martinez). The pair is given an audience with cartel boss Don Eladio (Steven Bauer), hoping to win his partnership; instead, they are met with ridicule and insinuations about their sexuality before Gus is forced to watch Max’s execution by gunshot to the head. Most queer viewers likely recognized immediately that these two men were much more than business partners, but others were unconvinced, despite details laced throughout the narrative that reinforced the obvious implications about their relationship.

Not until “Better Call Saul” do we get more detail about Gus’s subsequent ascendency to power, and it reveals what we’ve suspected all along: Gus’s motivation in building his drug empire is to get revenge against the family responsible for his lover’s brutal death. When he exits the series this time around, it’s in a scene that might almost be charming if not for the weight of doom that hangs over it. Celebrating a crucial victory against the cartel, he treats himself to an elegant dinner for one at his favorite restaurant.

Seated at the bar, he engages in flirtatious conversation with a handsome sommelier (Reed Diamond) who obviously returns his interest. It’s a brief moment of respite for Gus that ends with him abruptly finishing his wine and unceremoniously leaving the restaurant when his younger companion temporarily steps away. Resigned to a destiny where he can afford no emotional connections and still haunted by the trauma of that long ago day in Mexico, he opts to walk away from the possibility of romantic connection, and our perception of this sinister figure is softened by the recognition of his tragedy.

With the airing of this scene, viewers who had resisted the idea of a gay Gus Fring had no choice but to concede – especially after showrunner Peter Gould officially confirmed it on The Ringer podcast following the show. But for the many who saw through Gus’s carefully cultivated mask all along, this confirmation was less a revelation than a validation. After decades of recognizing queer subtext in mainstream Hollywood content, it’s refreshing to be told we weren’t just imagining it anymore.

Some might argue that Gus Fring is not the best example of inclusion; after all, he’s a cold and merciless criminal responsible for an untold number of deaths. Though we can feel some pity for him knowing his backstory, he is ultimately a monster, and could be construed on the surface as a throwback to the days when queer people were depicted only as villains or victims. Besides all that, he’s deeply closeted, at least with his cartel associates.

Such concerns are not so easily applied when it comes to material like “Breaking Bad” and “Better Call Saul,” however. These are not lazy, shallow shows that rely on tropes and expectations to tell their stories, but shrewd and layered works of art. All of Gilligan’s characters are flawed, even those who aren’t corrupt, and the world he puts them in is a harsh but realistic place where doing the “right” thing is rarely a feasible option. Gus, regardless of his orientation, is a sinner among sinners, and – thanks to Esposito’s impeccable performance and the excellent work of the writers – he’s just as deeply human as any of the rest of them.

The best LGBTQ representation happens when queer characters are allowed to be simply characters. When their story has nothing to do with their queerness, yet their queerness is still part of their story, they can be truly authentic reflections of queer life in all its infinite facets. Gus Fring may not be a good role model, but he’s thrillingly real – and for that, Vince Gilligan deserves our thanks.

Now, with his epic saga finally at an end, Gilligan says it’s time for him to walk away from the complex narrative he wove over the course of the two shows (and the feature film “El Camino,” which brought closure for fan-favorite character Jesse Pinkman, played by Aaron Paul), and although he’s not closing the door on the possibility of coming back to explore it further some time in the future, it’s not likely to be soon. For now, he’s turning his attention toward his next project – a sci-fi series in the vein of “The X-Files,” the show that first brought him to prominence during his stint as a writer and showrunner for several seasons. That means we have to say good-bye to the “Breaking Bad” universe, along with all its characters, but it also means we can look forward to seeing what he gives us next.

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