Our Flag Means Death: Historical Fiction for the History Books

By Niko Adams

*minor spoiler warning*

Our Flag Means Death arrived on screens through HBO Max this March. And in less than a month, it has managed to capture audiences from around the world and totally change what it means to see queer representation in mainstream media. 

The show is the product of writer and director, David Jenkins, who also wrote People of Earth, which ran from 2016 to 2017. And it stars Kiwi comedian Rhys Darby as Stede Bonnet and executive producer Taika Waititi as Edward Teach (famously known as Blackbeard). In a comedic mix of true-story meets modern rom-com, Our Flag Means Death follows the two and their band of pirates on an adventure along the Eastern seaboard of the United States, loosely drawing from the real Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet, who famously partnered together during 1717 amidst the golden age of piracy.  

Our Flag Means Death’s most fascinating aspect is its characters. Rhys Darby’s Stede Bonnet– the self-proclaimed ‘Gentleman Pirate’– is loveable, brilliant, terrifically funny, and hopelessly relatable. And Taika Waititi’s Blackbeard is raw, emotional, and a masterfully written character beneath his funny quips and theatrical presence. Jenkins’ bold move of entertaining us with a pair of silly — and not traditionally dashing, witty, and athletic — pirates is a subversive move that captured me within the first minute of the pilot. The two are, of course, the leading figures of the show, and it is their interactions that have driven audiences to fall so deeply in love with the relationships the show has to offer. 

I mentioned that Our Flag Means Death has become something of a figurehead of change and representation for the queer community in these last few weeks. And it deserves all of that, and so much more. The show stars Vico Ortiz as a Hispanic, gender-non-conforming pirate named Jim, a nod to the historical authenticity of non-binary identities aboard pirate ships, and the actor’s very real experience with their own gender. Jim’s presence in the show as a driving factor of the plot, and as a complex and well-rounded character is a historic moment for the LGBT community, who have yet to really truly see a character whose story on screen is not overshadowed by subplots of bigotry and homophobia. And who have also been deprived of non-binary actors on screen, and queer writers behind the script and story. 

The show’s exploration of middle-age, marriage, and love between its characters is silly, a little camp at times, but ultimately poignant, and nothing like we’ve ever seen before on television. It is a love letter to queer audiences around the world and a deserving slap-in-the-face to every show that has baited its viewers with almost-kisses and subtext over the years ( looking at you Superwholock ). Not only that but the famous ‘bury-your-gays’, which caused me to go into this show with terribly low expectations.

I think the most brilliant thing about Our Flag Means Death is that it does not hide away from what it is for the sake of comforting a mainstream audience. It proudly shows off its characters, their flaws, and the sometimes ridiculousness of its plot and story, with absolutely no shame. It is a romantic comedy through and through, and it has touched my heart in a way I have never felt before. 
Knowing that the world has come to embrace Our Flag Means Death in a time when legislation has begun to openly attack queer communities, is a lighthouse shining through the darkness. And it tells us that maybe we can fight back against the growing hate in our political landscape through popular media. The show itself is a monument, and I know that it will hold a very special place in history as a milestone for queer representation, and as another small victory in the fight for equality.