Queer Fans Remember ‘Merlin’ 15 Years Later, The Gayest Show That Wasn’t Gay
Were you watching 'Merlin' obsessively in high school, or were you straight?
In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rested on the shoulders of a young man. His name? Merlin. And boy, do the gays (including me) still love him, even 15 years later.
Created by Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Johnny Capps and Julian Murphy, Merlin premiered in 2008 on the BBC as a young adult adaptation of the Arthurian legends. Arthur himself, along with Merlin, Gwenivere, Morgana, Lancelot, and Mordrid are all teens and 20-somethings yet to achieve their destinies as figures of legend. But the future, as always, is closer than they think.
As a baby gay watching Merlin in high school, I felt an affinity with Merlin and his fight to hide his magic, even if I couldn’t exactly say why. Turns out, I was not alone. Speaking to queer fans now, the show still holds a special place in their hearts well into adulthood. Not least of all thanks to the show’s framing of magic abilities as criminal, regarded by many fans as an obvious allegory for queerness. “I watched Merlin before I knew I was lesbian or nonbinary/trans,” Sam told me via Tumblr. “I remember really identifying with Merlin and his struggle of hiding who he was!”
2023 marks the 15-year anniversary of the series pilot. The premiere saw a baby-faced Merlin (Colin Morgan) arrive in Camelot to become the apprentice of palace physician, Gaius. The use of magic is punishable by death in Camelot by decree of Arthur’s father, King Uther (Anthony Head). So, when Gaius learns Merlin possesses magical abilities beyond any he’s ever seen, things get a little stressful. Especially when Merlin is made a personal servant to Prince Arthur (Bradley James). To add to the tension, King Uther’s ancient dragon informs Merlin he is destined to bring about Camelot’s golden age. The dragon also says that Merlin must use his magic to protect Arthur so Arthur can bring peace after his magic-hating father vacates the throne.
“Even just the basic narrative of a wide-eyed innocent Merlin leaving his small village for the big city of Camelot to discover himself is a queer metaphor,” Thomas Hamilton, co-director of National Young Writers Festival, reminisced via Twitter. “As a gay man, Merlin definitely operates on two levels. There’s the obvious stuff that was such a core part of the fandom– the shipping and coding between him and Arthur. And I would be lying if [I said] both of them [Bradley James and Colin Morgan] weren’t part of my cute British fantasy actor canon.”
Both the series’ comedic and dramatic throughlines stemmed from the ironic day-to-day stress of Merlin using his magic to protect Arthur, while keeping his magic totally secret for his own safety. Over the seasons, Merlin’s repression of his magical abilities becomes far more solemn. What is at first comedic hijinks slowly morphs into a great test of faith – faith in his friendship with Arthur and faith that Arthur will not carry the bigoted views of his father. One of the only ways Merlin is able to use magic in front of Authur is by transforming into an unrecognisable (and very sassy) old witch.
As a character, Merlin was far from alone in this plight. Prince Arthur’s sister, the Lady Morgana (Kate McGrath), spends much of the series seeking vengeance for persecuted magic users. “As a lil gay teenager, what I loved about it at the time was interpreting magic as a metaphor for being gay,” queer fan of the series, Sophie, told me via Tumblr. “Especially once Morgana started discovering her magic.” After learning her constant sickness is a result of her father’s efforts to repress her magic, Morgana’s bloodthirsty rage at her oppression ascends her to the role of main villain. Because why would a woman’s rage over her mistreatment be anything other than villainous? (Tell me you’re a show written by men without telling me you’re a show written by men.)
Over a decade later, the grand finale of Merlin is, shall we say, somewhat of a sore spot for many fans. After five seasons of watching Merlin hide his magical identity from Arthur with ever increasing stakes, Merlin tells Arthur he’s magic in Arthur’s final breaths. Also, despite their shared struggle in repressing their magic and wanting a world where they could live freely, Merlin also kills Morgana in the show’s last scenes. Many saw the dual deaths as a prime example of the “bury your gays” trope, when queer or queer-coded characters are needlessly killed within media. The trope has its roots in the days of Hollywood regulations (such as the Hays Code) that encouraged negative depictions — and often the deaths — of “deviant” characters. But some fans see something more to Morgana and Merlin’s conflict. “Merlin and Morgana’s paths between good and evil could easily be a metaphor for the queer politics spectrum — with Morgana’s more extreme actions against politics vs Merlin’s more moderate approach,” Hamilton said.
Not every fan agrees. “Someone really needed to ask if Morgana was okay,” Durr-e-‘Adan Haque, co-host of queer media podcast GayV Club told me. “Merlin needed to f*cking talk to her and develop a goal of actually trying to help her… why was Merlin such a liberal rat? Internalised homophobia that’s why!” they joked. On why they kept watching the series, despite its often-repetitive and seemingly futile nature, Haque said, “The reason we [fans] kept watching the same episode over and over for five years, was that all of the cast has such beautiful chemistry together. There was so much love in this show… which is why everything felt so disappointing and so lovely at the same time.”
Between gender-bending at will and repressing one’s self-expression for fear of persecution, it’s not hard to see why the BBC series resonated with young queer viewers. “The themes of secrecy, silence, friendship, companionship, journey and destiny mirrored my experience as a queer person,” Ayuub, a queer trans man, shared. “Merlin’s magic glows and encapsulates him and he loves it but he can’t show it to anyone but a few people.” Other themes also enchanted Ayuub like, “self censorship, policing everyone around you to stay safe, bending and breaking the rules, fighting for change many people can neither see nor understand”.
Merlin and Arthur’s chemistry-fuelled friendship, (Merthur shippers, I know you’re still out there), or the tragic sapphic subtext of Gwen and Morgana (fellow Morgwen shippers make some noise) notwithstanding, it’s easy to forget that Merlin was never explicitly queer. Despite a strong fandom consensus that magic was a metaphor for marginalisation, co-creator Julian Murphy confirmed otherwise on the final season’s DVD commentary, saying, “On no level is magic metaphorical in this show.” Sure, Julian.
Recently, after years of being inactive, the official Merlin Twitter account reactivated. What’s more, co-creator of the series, Johnny Capps, gave a fresh interview to Radio Times last month in which he teased “exploring the legend again”. Will there be a revival of the series? If so, will it bring the show’s queer subtext to the fore? Who can say! But at the end of the day, Merlin was a show that hinged on the tension of being forced to hide who you are while fighting to create a world where you don’t have to. And 15 years later, it’s clear the queer community saw themselves in such a story, whether the show’s creators intended it or not.