TV
Hannibal: A Queer Love Story
Bryan Fuller’s 2013 adaptation of Hannibal is not your typical romance — after all, how many love stories focus on characters engaging in psychological warfare designed to destroy one another? Sure, it’s not a healthy relationship dynamic, but in the world of horror, this series created the pinnacle of the genre “horroromance.”
The Hannibal series is based on author Thomas Harris’ Red Dragon and follows empath Will Graham and his unexpected connection with the dignified, evil Dr. Hannibal Lecter. While the series starts as your typical police procedural, the second and third seasons explore the story Fuller really wanted to tell — and bring the queer undertones of these characters to light.
At a time when mainstream queer media was in its infancy, an unabashedly queer show like Hannibal was largely possible because of its status as psychological horror. When a debate on the ethics of cannibalism is on the table, folks are less likely to bat an eye at two men pining after each other. Embracing the horroromance label allowed Hannibal to shine and cement its legacy within queer media as a show in which body mutilation doubles as a flirtatious vehicle for romantic declarations, sapphic characters are flawed yet complex, and viewers are forced to reckon with the primal fear at the base of all love stories: whether we’ll ever be truly seen and accepted for who we are.

Bryan Fuller’s 2013 adaptation of Hannibal is not your typical romance — after all, how many love stories focus on characters engaging in psychological warfare designed to destroy one another? Sure, it’s not a healthy relationship dynamic, but in the world of horror, this series created the pinnacle of the genre “horroromance.”
The Hannibal series is based on author Thomas Harris’ Red Dragon and follows empath Will Graham and his unexpected connection with the dignified, evil Dr. Hannibal Lecter. While the series starts as your typical police procedural, the second and third seasons explore the story Fuller really wanted to tell — and bring the queer undertones of these characters to light.
At a time when mainstream queer media was in its infancy, an unabashedly queer show like Hannibal was largely possible because of its status as psychological horror. When a debate on the ethics of cannibalism is on the table, folks are less likely to bat an eye at two men pining after each other. Embracing the horroromance label allowed Hannibal to shine and cement its legacy within queer media as a show in which body mutilation doubles as a flirtatious vehicle for romantic declarations, sapphic characters are flawed yet complex, and viewers are forced to reckon with the primal fear at the base of all love stories: whether we’ll ever be truly seen and accepted for who we are.
“It really does look black in the moonlight.”
Some of the most horrific elements in Hannibal are also the show’s most romantic gestures, reflecting not just where Will and Hannibal are in terms of their relationship, but how they build intimacy.
We see this from the very first episode when Cassie Boyle is impaled on a rack of antlers with her lungs removed pre-mortem. Hannibal offers Will his “assistance” with the case by providing a stark contrast to the killer’s hunting ethics. Despite both characters being cannibals, Hannibal murders without kindness or a sense of necessity, but because it’s an art.
This act also serves as an attempt for Hannibal to gauge Will’s skill set, while giving Will his first insight into Hannibal’s psychological profile.
The cat-and-mouse game continues into Hannibal’s second season with Will attempting to ensnare Hannibal by offering his morality as bait, eventually succumbing to the allure of romantic mutilations himself when he combines the body of Randall Tier with the skeleton of a saber-toothed cat.. Later in the season, Will fakes the death of true-crime tabloid journalist Freddie Lounds by setting her body on fire as a gift to Hannibal, which Hannibal in turn honors by digging up Freddie’s corpse and posing it to resemble the Hindu god Shiva, both the creator and destroyer of worlds.
My favorite instance of a body horror grand gesture occurs in season three after Hannibal flees to Europe and leaves Will for dead. Although Hannibal told Will he forgave him for the betrayal, it’s Will’s forgiveness of Hannibal for killing Abigail Hobbs that prompts Hannibal to respond by leaving him a broken heart — an anatomically correct origami one made from the broken body of a queer male poet. Swoon.
“I love a good finger-wagging.”
Beyond the romantic dynamic between its leads, Hannibal depicts another set of complex, queer characters through the sapphic relationship between Alana Bloom and Margot Verger.
Margot is introduced to the audience as a patient of Hannibal’s who suffers multiple forms of abuse at the hands of her brother, Mason Verger. Despite her father disowning her for being a lesbian, Margot is self-assured in her identity and her desire to be a mother — particularly to provide an heir that would free her from her brother. By pursuing a sexual relationship with Will to fulfill that specific purpose, we see how cunning Margot is in her self-preservation. She is portrayed as far more than just a victim of her brother, especially as she continuously conspires against him, plots his death, and becomes partially responsible for his demise.
The most unexpected character development in the series is with Alana. Despite starting as a romantic option for both Hannibal and Will, Alana finally comes into her power — and her queerness — in season three. She has spent so much of the series being manipulated by Hannibal, and Will to some extent, that when she gives in to her desires for vengeance, it’s a refreshing direction for her character to take. She evokes a newfound confidence and stronger sense of self, which results in a casual “coming out” to viewers through a sex scene with Margot and a new collection of fashionable power suits.
Together, these survivors build a romantic connection based on mutual support and a desire to rid the world of certain evils and build a path forward for the two of them. Alana assists Margot in killing her brother and offers her body as a surrogate to give Margot the family she wanted. Though flawed, compared to the rest of the cast, the motives for their actions are the most realistic and understandable.
Their relationship is particularly remarkable because most on-screen sapphic relationships in the mid-2000s ended in the death of one or both characters. The last time we see Alana and Margot, they are alive and escaping the Verger residence with their son. Though this is a minor romantic subplot, their relationship is another example of how Hannibal fosters queer romance with bloody revenge at its heart.
“I let you know me. See me.”
Horror and romance are two sides of the same coin, especially with fear being so heavily associated with the act of falling in love. Our bodies react in the same way — hearts racing and anxiety mounting as we struggle with our desire to be seen for who we really are and be accepted for it.
The first two seasons of Hannibal address this core need. Hannibal is perfectly content living his life until Will waltzes in with his innate ability to “get inside a killer’s head.” Will’s empathy sets him apart from the other psychopaths that Hannibal interacts with, and when he witnesses Will’s lecture profiling the copycat killer who mutilated Cassie Boyle, he realizes that someone might actually understand him.
Of course, for Hannibal, being seen is a direct threat. While Will attempts to unravel the identity of the Chesapeake Ripper, the nickname given to the killer, Hannibal starts framing Will for his crimes to create distance between them. While it initially works, the moment Will sends someone to kill Hannibal, Hannibal’s hope for partnership is ignited.
Throughout season two, we see Hannibal let his guard down to accept Will. But this isn’t a one-way street — the whole time, Hannibal is also seeing Will for who he is and what he is capable of, which serves as one of the hurdles of their relationship as Will is forced to reckon with these implications himself. This results in what is essentially the third-act break up in the romance beat, as the characters realize they have different visions for a life together that neither are willing to commit to — whether it’s a life behind bars or being “murder husbands.”
Hannibal even says as much after he stabs Will. “I let you know me. See me. I gave you a rare gift. But you didn’t want it.” To which Will responds, “Didn’t I?”
But just like any other romance, being understood doesn’t mean anything if you’re not accepted. Even as they end season two with the realization that they have both been changed by the other, it’s the third season that delves into their struggle to reach that acceptance.
In true Hannibal form, that struggle results in a lot of attempted murder and cannibalism, but we eventually see Will find that acceptance — through attempting to destroy them both by hurtling off a cliff while they’re embraced in each other’s arms.
Despite the show only running for three seasons, Hannibal has been lauded for its impact on network TV, having been included on Variety’s 2023 list of “Greatest TV Shows of All Time” and building a fervorous fan base of “Fannibals.” Beyond all that fanfare, the series serves as a groundbreaking addition to queer media. It paved the way for other queer murder-romances, such as the Killing Eve adaptation, and even opened the door to more beloved media embracing the queer undertones of its source material, such as in Good Omens, which saw an on-screen kiss in 2023.
Fuller and the cast have loudly expressed their interest in returning for a fourth season, and I’d like to see how their dynamic would evolve. Hannibal’s fusing of romance and horror has already made canon a new, beautifully horrific love story.
TV
Interview with the Vampire: Queer Love & Vampires on TV

An age-old question has always been, “If you could live forever, would you?” As a queer person of color, I have always found the concept of immortality fascinating. Would being immortal improve things, or would my life remain unchanged? Would I lose my humanity as centuries pass? Having been a devoted reader of Anne Rice for many years, I became convinced that the only way to achieve immortality and find answers to my questions was to become a vampire. Imagine watching this version of Interview with the Vampire as a TV show for the first time. Like a human about to become food for the damned, I was enamored.
The series’ setup was masterfully done. Daniel Molloy, a gay man and reporter, is in the home of Louis de Pointe du Lac, a vampire. Louis introduces Daniel to his assistant, Rashid, who we later discover is the vampire Armand and Louis’ new lover. The inclusion of several queer main characters in this show was a refreshing change.
Daniel is the conductor, guiding the narrative with probing questions in every episode. The story unfolds in modern times and throughout the past, as Louis revisits his memories when Daniel seeks answers. Most questions focus on Louis’ maker and first male lover, the former human French aristocrat-turned-vampire Lestat de Lioncourt. The transitions connecting the story between periods flow seamlessly, like blood flowing through the veins to the heart and brain. See? This series had such a profound impact on me that it inspired me to become a poet.
Interview with the Vampire: A Queer Interracial Love Story
If you read the Anne Rice books, you know how Lestat fell in love with Louis and transformed him into his immortal partner. In subtext, anyway. The show not only embraced the idea that these two characters were a couple but also explored all aspects of their relationship: the good, the bad, the human soul, and the vampire spirit. Oh, and Louis is a Black man in the TV adaptation, making them a queer interracial couple. How’s that for a bit of razzle-dazzle?
“You could be a lot of things in New Orleans, but an openly gay Negro man was not one of them.” Louis’s words imprinted on me. He was hurting from internal struggle during his early days as a fledgling. Accepting yourself as queer when you have been living life as a straight person must have been jarring, especially at that time. Lestat knew what it was like coming to terms with queerness and vampirehood. However, I am not entirely convinced he understood intersectionality, or maybe he didn’t care.
Louis soon lost his family after he was turned. They realized he was different and even implied that he had consorted with the devil. His family also expressed concerns about his relationship with Lestat, particularly his deeply religious brother, Paul. For those who come from a POC ethnic background, being queer can be a death sentence. Some communities would rather accept you as a bloodsucking demon than as a person living outside a heteronormative lifestyle. In this case, however, Louis’s family didn’t accept him either way. Talk about a stake to the heart.
Navigating Queerness and Race in 1910s New Orleans
The show effectively balances fantasy and reality, allowing viewers almost to blur the lines between the two. It’s important to remember that during the 1910s, there was a significant rise in racial tension. Louis, a brothel owner catering to white customers and possessing more wealth than the average enslaved person, still faced opposition. White businessmen conspired against him to ensure his business would fail, as they aimed to shut it down. Louis found the man behind the plan. He openly expressed his disdain for Louis, revealing that he found him repugnant because of his race and sexual orientation.
Louis was justified in killing him. IDC.
I encountered a situation I never thought possible: even after gaining all the immortal gifts, you can still be vulnerable to human hatred. It shouldn’t have surprised me, as being queer gives you an automatic disadvantage in life. And being a person of color? Forget about it. No amount of vampiric blood or money would change your worth to those who deem you as lesser.
We observe how Louis’s immortality made him more at ease with his sexuality. It served as a gateway to experiences beyond human understanding. I am fond of metaphors, so I see becoming a vampire as a symbol of puberty and open-mindedness. Witnessing his struggle, I embraced this flawed character because he felt real. I also felt validation, as I am sure many others did. In the end, Louis was able to find his voice. That to which I say, “Yas, my undead queen!”
Queer Love Can Be Toxic Too
Unfortunately, as Daniel painfully noted during his interview with Louis, Lestat wasn’t the supportive partner he could have been. Instead of genuine guidance, Louis was met with misdirected anger. There was certainly love between them, but it was overshadowed.
Lestat’s love was as passionate as his wrath. He had little patience for Louis’ reluctance to accept all facets of being a vampire. While he enjoyed drinking from humans, Louis would feed from rats. This would cause intense fights between them. Lestat was disgusted by Louis’ shame and guilt regarding his desire for human blood.
While Louis was indeed a victim to some extent in his abusive relationship with Lestat, the show effectively portrayed the complexities, both positive and negative, of their dynamic. This is a reminder that both heterosexual and non-heterosexual relationships can have many similarities.
Claudia’s Tragic Tale: The Cost of Toxic Parenting
I’m not here to romanticize Louis’ toxic traits and embellish his victimhood. Let’s be real: Louis pressured Lestat to create Claudia, an eternal child who later resents her neglectful fathers for bringing her into existence. This complicates matters, and Louis dared to act like he didn’t want a daughter, which is absurd. I am not suggesting that Louis being dropped from the sky during a domestic fight was justified, nor that Louis and Claudia plotting to murder Lestat with poisoned blood was the best solution to their problems. I’m saying that these two immortal drama queens needed therapy as they destroyed everything around them.
A Scorpio and Libra dating is diabolical work.
The real victim here was Claudia. Trapped in a child’s body, never knowing what becoming an adult truly means. Her toxic and abusive parents were too busy caring about everything and everyone else but her. Relatable content. Might I add that having this character as a person of color was a beautiful touch? Interview with the Vampire made a statement by featuring Black main characters. Come on, an immortal interracial couple with a Black vampire child—scandalous AF.
I could go on about Claudia, but I’m sorry, girl. I have to keep talking about your dramatic dads. As you once said, “Picked another one over me!”
The Impact of Racism and Homophobia on Immortal Lives
Each episode left me feeling conflicted about what to be angry about. Should I be upset with Lestat’s cruelty, Louis’ eagerness to please, Daniel’s probing questions that force accountability, or Armand’s manipulative behavior to keep Louis around and ensure he resents Lestat? Or perhaps I should focus on the racist and homophobic characters who complicate this dysfunctional vampire family’s existence? Probably all of the above. Seeing the metaphorical sun draw near while vampires toy with its flames served as a reminder that these powerful night creatures still possessed human flaws. That’s the point, isn’t it?
I would be flattered if a vampire saw me, fell in love, and decided to make me their forever partner. However, I would not have enjoyed being isolated from my family and forced to rush transition from human to bloodsucker. All the while, I would be gaslighted and abused, which in turn would make me a toxic partner as well.
As their story unfolds, so does the drama. The characters change, and these changes are sometimes for the worse. These dads and their dramatics led to Claudia’s fiery death. No, this isn’t a spoiler because this happened in the books, so don’t come at me. The potential to have had an enriching and fulfilling home figuratively and literally went up in flames. This scenario could have been about a heterosexual relationship, and the message would not have lost its value. Now that’s how you know the writing is genius.
Anne Rice is Queen
It’s mentioned earlier that Anne Rice was the queen of subtext, so the writers of this series ate in fleshing out the characters in the Vampire Chronicles Universe. This show provided us with everything we desired: romance, lust, passion, and deceit—the perfect recipe for a gay vampire novella. I know I didn’t highlight the positives of this vamp relationship, but that’s overdone in other gay and straight stories. I aimed to address the unpleasant and painful aspects, so you’re welcome.
While we wait for the new season to air in 2026, I recommend rewatching the episodes as a refresher. They’re streaming on both Amazon Video and AMC+. Or if you want something more intimate, walk around at night and hope for the undead to pay you mind and offer you everlasting life.
JK. Don’t do that. Please.
TV
Why Max’s ‘Velma’ Failed: A Lesson for Hollywood’s IP Revivals
Hollywood is an industry of extreme risk and reward. In a world where high cost, star-studded films often attracts distracted viewers, studios have relied on a tried-and-true method of mitigating risk: reviving existing IP from their back catalog. At the same time, modern audiences are smarter, more critical, and less willing to be handed reheated slop, as demonstrated by critical and audience backlash to the modern trend of rebooting existing animated franchises for live-action. To stand out in a crowded field where audience discussion goes beyond the confines of the work water cooler to the limitless chatrooms of the internet, a reboot needs a spin, an angle to set it apart from the rest.

Hollywood is an industry of extreme risk and reward. In a world where high cost, star-studded films often attracts distracted viewers, studios have relied on a tried-and-true method of mitigating risk: reviving existing IP from their back catalog. At the same time, modern audiences are smarter, more critical, and less willing to be handed reheated slop, as demonstrated by critical and audience backlash to the modern trend of rebooting existing animated franchises for live-action. To stand out in a crowded field where audience discussion goes beyond the confines of the work water cooler to the limitless chatrooms of the internet, a reboot needs a spin, an angle to set it apart from the rest. So what happened with HBO’s Velma?
Velma’s Bold Reimagination: A Scooby-Doo Without Scooby
When Warner Bros.’s adult animated show Velma was announced in 2021 with executive producer, screenwriter, and voice actress Mindy Kaling aboard to voice the titular character, fans of the Scooby-Doo franchise seemed somewhat excited, though hesitant about the premise of an adult-orientated Scooby Doo show. This speculation was only amplified as outcry emerged at reports of the show race-swapping existing members of the Mystery Incorporated gang in an attempt to approach the characters’ origins through new, more contemporary lenses. Further criticism was thrown at the show upon the reveal that the series’ mascot Scooby-Doo would not be featured, sending fans spiraling before the show even premiered. However, while Velma’s creative reimagination does at times cause confusion, it isn’t what ultimately causes the show to fail despite two seasons and a Halloween special.
Upon its 2023 premiere, Velma almost instantly gained fire from all corners of the internet, as out-of-context clips of the show filled the internet’s timelines. Fans immediately criticized the show’s new tone, which failed to modernize and age up the franchise’s humor by instead resorting to potty humor and jabbing at millennials and ‘wokeness’. For most viewers, the show didn’t resonate as anything more than an adult comedy with a Scooby-Doo paint job.
Fan Backlash: Race-Swapping and Tone Missteps in Velma
While the show attempts to engage with its own history, it fails the most in its conceit, reimagining Velma as less of a clever, critical investigator and more as a loud-mouthed troll who annoys her way through her mysteries while occasionally connecting two plus two. The show’s supporting cast is reimagined to some success, with Glenn Howerton portraying a spoiled, physically & emotionally stunted Fred, Constance Wu bringing an attitude and a criminal mischievousness to Daphne, and Sam Richardson trying his hardest to defy Shaggy’s stoner archetype. Though the voice cast succeeds at delivering the occasional joke or absurdism, the show’s tone is perhaps hampered by its ambition.
Velma aims not only to break new ground as an adult-orientated Scooby Doo adaptation, but also create new, modernized versions of the characters, incorporate high school hijinks, and establish a sense of risk and mystery that engages an older audience. Scooby Doo as a franchise has almost always been procedural, with your classic monster-of-the-week or man-in-a-monster-mask-of-the-week storyline. Most of the payoff from the original show and the more beloved movies is that each episode delivers on mysteries, monsters, and hilarious hijinks as the more competent members of Mystery Inc. fend off Shaggy and Scooby’s incompetency. Velma is the second attempt at a serialized Scooby Doo show after Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated, a show intended for older child audiences that continued to engage with the monster-of-the-week format while developing character relationships and a multi-season arc. However, Velma abandons the weekly mystery that was critical for Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated needs to have a foundation to hold onto as that series’ serial elements develop. At almost all opportunities, the show seems like it’s doing too much, juggling too many storylines, reimaginings, and trying its hardest to cram in parody and humor.
Where Velma Went Wrong: A Weak Mystery and Overloaded Plot
From the get go, Velma follows the origin of Velma’s mystery solving, detailing how Velma’s curiosity resulted in her mother mysteriously disappearing with few clues to aid in her rediscovery. Two years later, a traumatized Velma blames herself for her mother’s disappearance and swears not to solve mysteries again, even as the brains of popular local girls start disappearing, creating a rumor mill about a local serial killer. Most of the show’s issues come from the fact that the show fails to find interest in the group dynamics of Mystery Inc, instead stapling together loosely related plotlines for not one, but two seasons without officially assembling Mystery Inc. Even after critical and audience outcry at the show, the second season doubles down with a continuation of the storyline about Velma’s missing mother and how she’s tied to weird doings in the town. While the show tries to respond to some of its outcry by incorporating more existing Scooby Doo characters, it never quite figures out what it’s trying to do, once again resulting in a season that feels like a poorly rebranded adult comedy forced into a Scooby Doo mold.
While Velma’s lack of careful plotting and consideration of the show’s source material practically breaks it on a conceptual level, the show isn’t all misses. The voice cast manages to stand apart from long-standing predecessors, lending unique angles and opportunities to set this iteration of Mystery Inc. apart from past re-angles. The show’s humor, while a bit too reliant on the crudeness and depravity of early 2010s adult animation, occasionally hits a laugh by poking apart the show’s own absurdity. At its most meta, the show comes across as clever, tearing at the teens solving mysteries tropes the original set to establish, while struggling to lean into the elements that would appeal to long-term fans. The fact that Scrappy-Doo makes a major appearance before Scooby Doo and the show’s hesitancy to become what is so beloved of the franchise ultimately hits the brakes on being anything memorable before the show’s abrupt cancellation following its Halloween special.
What’s Next for Scooby-Doo: Netflix’s Live-Action Series
Despite Velma’s failings and fumblings, there remains some hope for the Scooby-Doo franchise despite Warner Bros. repeated insistence on canceling completed Scooby-Doo films intended for both direct-to-streaming and theatrical markets. As of April 2025, Netflix is moving ahead with an 8-episode live-action series that will serve as the first television live-action adaptation of the source material. Showrunners Josh Appelbaum and Scott Rosenberg will tackle the origin of Mystery Inc, which multiple Scooby-Doo adaptations have tackled in the past; however, details remain sparse on the project. The project seems to be produced with a production team with diverse backgrounds, with some members hailing from CW projects and other network programming while others have streaming experience.
As a lifelong Scooby-Doo fan, the most I can hope for this new adventure for the franchise is that it continues to rely on the DNA of the show that made it initially successful. From the original series to the many spinoffs and remakes it has produced, the show has always been about solving mysteries, the hijinks needed to solve them, and how what appears isn’t exactly what it actually is. The hope is that this new series won’t forget the mysteries, will commit fully to its new angle at the source material, and remember what is most beloved by Scooby-Doo fans is the characters & how they navigate hijinks. We don’t need a shot-for-shot live-action remake or a gritty rework to be happy, we just need those who are taking swings at the franchise to be passionate and genuine about using it as a foundation to expand upon, rather than create a totally new show with a Scooby-Doo makeup job.