How Black Doves flips the "gay best friend" trope into groundbreaking TV

It felt "safer" to relegate gay men especially into background stereotypes for cheap laughs while they propped up the straight women whose stories actually mattered. That's not to say this was ideal, by any means.

But as time went on and LGBTQ+ representation improved, The Gay Best Friend™ no longer popped up to discuss shopping and makeovers as often as he once did.

Classic examples of the trope, such as Clueless, Mean Girls and My Best Friend's Wedding, faded in favour of modern takes that actively deconstructed stereotypes the GBF was once known for.

Just look at HBO's The Other Two, Kristen Stewart's Happiest Season or even Big Boys, the Channel 4 show which centres the dynamic between a gay protagonist and his Straight Best Friend instead.

But even these new spins on that old formula tend to mostly appear in just comedies or dramas, leaving little space for actual gay-straight friendships across genre fare, be it horror movies and superhero cinema or even that most beloved of British genres, the spy thriller.

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Enter Black Doves, a new Netflix series created by Joe Barton, best known for Giri/Haji, The Lazarus Project and The Bastard Son & The Devil Himself.

Each series is very British, very smart, and intrinsically queer to varying degrees, but Black Doves might be the most British, smartest, and queerest show of his yet.

Keira Knightley stars as Helen, the wife of a prominent MP whose marriage was set up by a shady intelligence boss played by Sarah Lancashire.

A murder in the opening scene threatens to blow Helen's cover completely, but help soon arrives in the form of Ben Whishaw's Sam, a "triggerman", aka hitman, whose return to London is a gift to Helen and us alike.

"A queer assassin had a certain interest for me," Whishaw told us recently, and it's easy to see why. LGBTQ+ themes of any kind are incredibly rare in the world of espionage on screen, and if queer people do get to be killers, they tend to be mentally ill stereotypes that equate queerness with evil or insanity.

Is Sam a good guy in Black Doves? No, not precisely. But he's far from a walking trope in this vein either.

From an early hook-up and an emotional subplot with his ex to flashbacks that grapple with his father's killer legacy, Sam is a fully realised, fleshed-out queer character who just so happens to murder people for a living.

He even has gay mates — one played by the deeply underrated Nathan Stewart-Jarrett — who rally around him upon his return, curious to know what became of their distant friend after he suddenly disappeared seven years previously.

But the heart of this story isn't Sam's connection to his old friends. It's the deeper bond that he shares with Helen, which transforms the Gay Best Friend trope into something far more equal and grounded, not to mention realistic, despite all the killing that goes on around them.

Sam doesn't sit on the sidelines, cheering Helen on, and he doesn't provide comic relief with talk of makeup or boys either. In fact, he's the one who originally trained Helen in combat before going freelance as a contract killer.

And yes, he was called in now to protect her, but his bestie doesn't need saving like some mere damsel in distress. Instead, the pair actively work together in a partnership that's just as warm and supportive as any friendship you'd hope for in real life, albeit with a lot more blood and carnage.

While other people their age worry about paying their mortgage or finding childcare for date night, Helen and Sam are too busy breaking into the US embassy or shooting gangsters to care. But they're never too busy for each other, and they're never too busy for a bit of bantz either.

When Helen slams into a brick wall after jumping from an exploding flat, she pushes her dislocated shoulder back in with zero fanfare, to which Sam says, "Impressive." Her reply? "You should have seen me when I pushed two entire human beings out of my vagina on the same afternoon."

There's an ease to their repartee, the kind that only comes with time and trust, but it's also very touching in places too.

In fact, the best moments from the entire show are found in the intimacy they share, whether it's Sam calling Helen "Darling" with deep affection or when they open up about the toll this life they've chosen can take on them.

Halfway through, Helen struggles for a moment: "Sometimes I wake up and I can’t breathe, Sam, because I have no idea who I am."

Sam opens up too about how much he misses Michael and how he's ruined any chance of them being together. "We'll be alright, won't we?" he asks, somewhat ironically with a stiff upper lip.

But will they really? That's hard to say. After Sam makes a big sacrifice for Helen in the finale, stepping in to wreak vengeance on her behalf, the future looks troubling for them both (even if the future of Black Doves itself feels secure thanks to an early season 2 renewal).

But as long as either one of them draws breath, it's clear that they'll always be there for each other, as Sam suggests in season 1's final moments:

"People like you and me, darling. We don’t get to ride off into the sunset, but we get to stay around and watch the stars come out. And that’s not nothing, I suppose."

Casually centering a queer assassin in a story like this is impressive as it is, especially given how well Sam's arc and characterisation is handled throughout.

But to do so while also reflecting the realities of friendship between gay men and straight women is perhaps even more impressive. Not all gay best friends are raging stereotypes, after all, and who knows? If you play your cards right, you might even find one who would kill for you.

Black Doves is available to stream on Netflix.

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