The final scene in “Fleabag” is eerily quiet. The unnamed main character, “Fleabag” (Phoebe Waller-Bridge), waits with The Priest (Andrew Scott) at a bus stop following the emotional end of their brief but complex relationship. When he decides to further his vocation as a priest rather than continue his relationship with Fleabag, the scene does not portray the melodrama one would expect to find at the end of a love story. Instead, the scene lingers in a quiet emotional space that is not about Fleabag losing her relationship, but the way she does not lose herself in order to keep it. “Fleabag” avoids the narrative that women must change or make sacrifices in order to be loved, instead offering something much more interesting: a portrayal of a woman who is deeply human, deeply flawed and yet still completely worthy of love and attention as she is.
The significance of this scene resides in its contribution to the larger cultural shift that Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s work is often associated with. Women in television and film have historically been expected to be caring, virtuous, emotionally open and overall “good.” Female characters who make mistakes are expected to overcome them before they can be admired. Male characters, on the other hand, have historically been free to exist in much more complicated narrative spaces. Television history is replete with conflicted and morally complex male characters who are selfish, angry and reckless, yet praised for being multifaceted characters. For female characters, however, flaws are indications that they shouldn’t receive audience support.
“Fleabag” upends this dynamic by centering an entire series around a character who, in many ways, is not very likable. Fleabag is dishonest, manipulates situations for self-protection, uses sex as a way to avoid dealing with emotional pain and has a tendency to sabotage the relationships in her life. Much of Fleabag’s flaws and bad decision-making stem from the guilt she feels about the death of her best friend, Boo (Jenny Rainsford), which she cannot seem to get past. Fleabag’s use of humor, her tendency to get into bad relationships and her ability to turn to the camera and narrate her innermost thoughts are all messy coping mechanisms used to avoid dealing with the pain she is not yet ready to face. Even her lack of a name carries this sentiment: Audiences only know her through the demeaning title of the show, the actual woman obscured by her lack of identifiers.
This form of representation is significant because it speaks to a larger truth about how people actually experience change. Personal change does not start in perfection; it starts in recognition. In so many narratives about women, change means becoming more agreeable, more patient, more selfless. From classics like “My Fair Lady,” where Eliza (Audrey Hepburn) changes her language and manners to appease a classier man, to “The Princess Diaries,” where Mia (Anne Hathaway) “glows up” as she steps into a new role, women constantly have to change who they are to become something that men or society will accept. “Fleabag” argues against that formulaic view of character growth. The main character does not succeed by becoming less of the messy, uncomfortable person she is. She succeeds when she begins to accept who she is.
Within this larger context, her relationship with The Priest in the show’s second season represents perhaps one of the most pivotal events in the narrative. It is this relationship that allows Fleabag to grow, not because she finds a man who can “fix her,” but because he confronts her habit of hiding from herself. The Priest’s acknowledgement of her tendencies encourages Fleabag to do the same. Early on in their relationship, The Priest notices something that none of the other characters do: Fleabag’s habit of disappearing in order to talk to herself and the audience through the fourth wall.
Up to this point in the series, the element has been used mostly for comedic effect, primarily as a way to provide quips from the main character to the audience. But it is precisely this recognition on the part of The Priest that represents the importance of their relationship. In her most distant moments, The Priest sees her for who she truly is. He does not judge her, does not ask her to focus or to be polite, but rather innocently asks “where she went,” challenging her to confront precisely who it is that she is trying to avoid being.
Fleabag and The Priest’s dynamic serves as a reminder of an essential aspect of healthy relationships that people do not always discuss: being able to maintain a coherent self. “Fleabag” avoids the trope of molding yourself to others by showing that true connection does not necessitate this sort of self-erasure. The relationship with The Priest challenges Fleabag, but it does not change who she is fundamentally. She is still as sharp-tongued, irreverent and impulsive as she was at the start of the season, but she is given the space to feel her deeper tumultuous emotions and figure them out on her own terms without burying them within herself.
The importance of this story’s conclusion can be understood better with this interpretation. By showing The Priest ultimately deciding to remain committed to his calling, the relationship is not depicted as a failure. It didn’t end due to Fleabag being too defective a person, or needing to become another person in order to sustain this relationship. Instead, what is being represented here is a more complex reality. The important point is not that Fleabag loses the relationship, but that she leaves it with a greater understanding of who she is as a person and able to finally accept being alone with herself, in all of her flaws and misgivings. This experience allows her to confront the grief she has been avoiding for years, as well as reconnect with people such as her sister. By the time their relationship concludes, her personal growth has already been achieved. She hasn’t fixed all of her issues, but she has come to terms with the complexities of her life — mess and all.
Collectively, these elements demonstrate the cultural relevance of “Fleabag” as a whole. The show is a part of a larger cultural movement that seeks to portray women as full-ranged human beings rather than symbolic objects. It depicts a main character who is selfish, funny, perceptive, lonely and deeply loving. “Fleabag” does not present a woman who is superficially likable, but rather a woman who is immensely chaotic and complex and still worthy of appreciation and love. Simultaneously, it challenges decades of female character portrayal, exploring the deeply personal task of accepting who we are within a relationship, thereby allowing women on screen to experience growth outside of acceptance.
The show’s portrayal of the imperfect yet lovable woman is not just a character study, but also a commentary on the very idea of emotional authenticity in storytelling and in life. “Fleabag” argues that we do not need to become perfect in order to be worthy of love, but rather we become more complete by admitting our flaws to ourselves and not believing them to be hurdles in our efforts for companionship. “Fleabag” ultimately gives a powerful message women rarely hear: Sometimes, the most powerful love story is one that shows you how to go on after it’s over.
Daily Arts Writer Tiffany McKalko can be reached at tmckalko@umich.edu.
