This post contains spoilers for Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald.[hhmc]
Over the last several years, properties across just about every genre of film and television have been called out for drumming up interest by touting the presence of queer or queer-coded characters, only to whiff in the projects themselves by only nodding vaguely toward the sexualities of those characters—and rendering them virtually irrelevant. The trend may have reached its zenith when Bill Condon, who directed the 2017 live-action version of Beauty and the Beast, hyped the movie by saying in a pre-release interview that it would include an “exclusively gay moment”—which ended up being a brief scene in which Josh Gad danced with another man.
Many a denizen of Harry Potterdom had higher hopes for this weeks Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald. The ensemble film involves a character, Albus Dumbledore, whom Potter inventor J.K. Rowling declared to be gay, right after wrapping the seven-book series. (It was only the first of many ex post facto edits and additions she would eventually make to her mega-popular franchise.) Even after news broke that Dumbledore and his former lover, Gellert Grindelwald, would not be “explicitly” gay in the film, a question has lingered about how, exactly, the movie would address the subject.
Dumbledores sexuality never played an explicit role in the book series, either—but the Fantastic Beasts franchise cast its gaze toward Dumbledore and his old flame Grindelwalds past, giving Rowling (who writes the scripts for the Fantastic Beasts films) and director David Yates a chance to incorporate that footnote into this fictional worlds canon. But thats not what the film itself wound up doing. Throughout The Crimes of Grindelwald, Dumbledore and Grindelwalds bond is described, in so many words, as “like brothers, only closer”—all longing looks and blood pacts, in lieu of any real romance.
Though the second Fantastic Beasts movie has time for multiple characters and subplots—too many, in fact!—there are only a few fleeting moments in which the film directly addresses Dumbledore and Grindelwalds past. The first comes as an Auror tries to convince Dumbledore to help take Grindelwald down. When Dumbledore expresses reluctance, the officer asks if “this” is the reason—casting a spell that shows a shadowy young Dumbledore and Grindelwald looking at one another. The two were like brothers, he says. Dumbledores reply? “We were closer than brothers.” In another, later flashback, the two are shown executing a blood pact—in lieu of kissing or showing any other sort of outward affection. In perhaps the most explicit moment in the entire film, Dumbledore sees Grindelwalds image in the Mirror of Erised. As Dumbledore would later tell Harry Potter, the mirror “shows us nothing more or less then the deepest and most desperate desires of ones heart.”
This reliance on implication is frustrating, perhaps, but understandable; giant, family-friendly tentpole films dont tend to go out of their way to incorporate content that certain demographics might find controversial. The worst part, though, is that the film tries to have its cake and eat it too. It throws fans a few bones by alluding to Dumbledore and Grindelwalds relationship, yet Dumbledore seems unwilling or unable to admit that said relationship was romantic. Even more puzzlingly, Dumbledore never explains why he cant be honest about that aspect of his bond with Grindelwald.
One has to assume that homophobia ran rampant in the wizarding world in the 1920s, just as it did in the human world—but the concept of anti-gay sentiment is as vague in the film as the concept of homosexuality. Its reminiscent of last years The Greatest Showman, another period piece that consistently alludes to the dark forces keeping Zendayas character and Zac Efrons character apart without ever directly mentioning racism. As a result, the relationship rings hollow—like a plot device or a narrative novelty inserted purely so the film could check off a box in the least offensive way.
Its easy to imagine how this story line could have been executed differently. Even one more well-placed flashback would have made all the difference—and if it had focused on Grindelwald, it could even have added much-needed dimension to a character who feels too much like a white-haired Voldemort retread. And while it can make sense for characters in historical fiction to live inside the closet, it would be nice to at least see their oppression acknowledged. If Dumbledore had to suppress this part of his life for decades, one would think that would provide some interesting avenues on which the film could travel. But it seems Fantastic Beasts would rather explore character development through an inexplicable alternative: making Ezra Miller Dumbledores long-lost secret brother instead.
Get Vanity Fairs HWD NewsletterSign up for essential industry and award news from Hollywood.Laura BradleyLaura Bradley is a Hollywood writer for VanityFair.com.
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