The Perfect Imperfections of Fleabag Season Two

My first exposure to Fleabag was when my Peace Corps friend returned to our Moroccan villages from a visit to the states. In addition to peanut butter and tampons, she brought back current events and trending topics. One of which was a show that those stateside were all abuzz about, a British dramady called Fleabag.  

As we watched it on the floor of her salon, we laughed and cried and rejoiced in the heartfelt depiction of grief, guilt, and coping. As a writer, I was profoundly inspired by Pheobe Waller-Bridge. As a viewer, I was obsessed.

In the years that followed, I would binge watch on a rainy weekend and share its brilliance with friends at any opportunity. Overjoyed at the arrival of a second series, I could not resist the urge to watch one after the other, resolving that season two is indeed perfection.

Moving on from grief, the second series focuses on Fleabag learning to love again- be it her sister, her father, or the unattainable priest. The emotions are raw, the comedy perfectly timed, and the situations delightfully awkward. The series really is perfection.

But we have to talk about the ‘kneel’ scene.

Fleabag finds herself on the brink of prayer after a dance of vulnerability with her new friend, the priest. Despite unabashedly lusting for his affection, she became resistant to his attempt at understanding her and pushed him away. His questions sparked a flashback where the viewer sees Fleabag at her mother’s funeral, the grief of which seems to have prompted her current-day late-night visit to the parish.

Surprisingly (but not really), she encounters the priest, a bit drunk, and he convinces her to open up to him via confession booth. Fleabag is honest, sad, and hurting. This may be the first time we have seen her truly be vulnerable with another character as she leans into the sincere friendship she resisted earlier that day.

Her monologue ends but is met with silence. “Tell me what to do, father,” she implores. During the suspenseful silence that follows, my only thought was I hope they don’t take it there. 

“Kneel,” he says at last. And my hope was crushed as he pulled back her curtain to kiss her passionately, if not drunkenly.

Though their attempt at sex was interrupted by God, it didn’t matter; for me, the damage to the priest was done. Fleabag had finally let go of her lust and leaned in to true vulnerability. Only then, it seems, could the priest be sexual with her. Only after she opens her heart to him.

Normally, it might be considered respectable for someone to crave vulnerability before having sex. But in this case, where she is seeking spiritual guidance, has a history of using sex to cope with grief, and his profession prohibits a romantic relationship, it is severely problematic. It had every indication of exploitation. It might be inadvertent, but in the episodes that follow, he does in fact trap and control her, just as she feared. Spoiler alert, the series ends with him loving her and leaving her.

Don’t get me wrong; the priest is mightily endearing and lovable. I get it. I get why Fleabag loves him. I get why audiences love him. But I cannot get over the ‘kneel’ scene. The priest using his position to manipulate a woman who trusts him with her most intimate thoughts and fears is something everyone should have a problem with. It is exactly what modern counter-culture has been actively fighting against.

Though I found the scene disappointing, it is a fact of life that even the most sincere, well-intentioned men can be guilty of abusing their power. Pheobe Waller-Bridge is writing about something that happens every day all over the world. Perhaps, then, what has been the most alarming is how the priest has become a heartthrob, if you will. Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram are all flooded with images of the hot priest and fan pages celebrating him as a desirable leading man.

I might be less troubled by this if anyone was talking about the ‘kneel’ scene (critically and not just as a sexual fantasy) or how his treatment of her was unkind and self-serving, but no one is. The priest seems to have become the embodiment of a latent fetish for many, which is conveniently reductive. What makes Fleabag (the show) so wonderful is the complexity of its characters: Fleabag herself, her sister, father, dreaded in-law Martin, and even the wicked god/step-mother. The priest is no exception. He is endearing, conflicted, and flawed.

I find the kneel scene troubling yet find the priest compelling, still. This is the beauty of Fleabag. I stand by my belief that season two is perfection, perhaps because its characters are not. Love the priest, but let us acknowledge his imperfections and look at his actions with a discerning eye. Trust me, the show is strong enough to handle it.