Happiest Season aka “Settling for Queer Narratives in Hollywood”
By: Meggie Gates
Tags: Queer, Christmas, LGBTQ, Happiest Season, Lesbian

It’s been almost a month since Happiest Season broke the internet. Much was expected from the first lesbian holiday film, which premiered on Hulu on November 26th, and much, to our dismay, fell flat. Lesbians stormed Twitter and Tiktok alike to take up their torches defending Abby (Kristen Stewart) from the clutches of Harper, straight actress Mackenzie Davis playing yet again another lesbian character in a groundbreaking queer film. What we wanted was a timeline where lesbians could just exist, a quirky holiday movie leaning on the competitive trope of neighbors with the best lights competition or explaining to a child why Santa does exist, instead we got ANOTHER story masked by a narrative that indicates the only story that can exist in queer media is coming out.

In times of greatest need, Dan Levy and Kristen Stewart became traitors to the LGBTQ community.

Let me give context. At the start of the movie we are introduced to Harper and Abby, two lesbians who have been dating for roughly six months. They’ve moved in together, they’re cute on the street. It is assumed that these two are hella close. So, when Harper invites Abby home to meet her parents everything should be okay, right? Wrong. Harper has Abby pose under the guise of a roommate and absolutely throws her under the bus.

Tragedy unfolds with the capital T for Trauma. As our resident dykes pull up to Harper’s sprawling escape, a big “uh oh” resounds from my viewing party knowing that this, in fact, is a movie where the closeted girl grapples with coming out to those type of parents (conservative). She introduces Abby to Mom (Mary Steenburgen) and Dad (Victor Garber) as comedy hinges on Abby, an insanely obvious queer, posing as a straight person. They ask about her boyfriend and it trips up Abby for a second. “Oh yeah I just went through a breakup,” she says, eyeing Harper who’s also in on the joke.

The subplot that is quite possibly the most exhausting is Harper stringing her high school boyfriend along. This drives the most conflict online as people label her straight, a perpetuation of biphobia. What’s frustrating is not the conceived, consistently nurtured narrative that bi-people who only date opposite sex people are straight, what’s frustrating is people’s inability to untie toxic behavior across the board. Propositioned against a straight couple, we would absolutely condemn either the man or the woman for this behavior. Hell, we’d probably make jokes online about our shitty ex and get a million likes. By not setting a clear boundary, Harper details what little respect she has for Abby. By saying Abby is “hovering” when asking if she got home safe, Harper gets away with gas lighting that would otherwise be condemned. It is not an issue of gay or straight, it is an issue of the audience agreeing that Harper’s reconciliation with finally coming out at the end alleviates everything we would otherwise Boo in a public setting.

And then there’s Riley. Pure, good, sweet Riley. Played by Aubrey Plaza, a bisexual exuding gay as fuck vibes, Riley serves as Harper’s ex from high school, another secret hidden in a cascading closet at the expense of status and perfection. Most every lesbian online is on her side, we BEG that Clea Duvall ends the movie with Riley and Abby getting together, but instead, we have Abby settling for what little self-worth she has. If this was a movie for gay people, this is the ending we should have gotten, an understanding we can draw lines with how we are treated, we do not have to put up with someone who treats us like the butt of the joke. In a heartwarming moment between Riley and Abby, it is revealed Harper outed Riley to their entire high school class after word was passed around about their relationship.

Similarly, at the end of the movie, Harper outs Abby (as if the suspenders weren’t enough) about how Abby is gay and obsessed with her. It is a joke to be offered to a straight audience that this is how love should look like, especially around a holiday where love is celebrated. It is offensive Dan Levy supports Kristen Stewart getting together with Harper at the end just because she runs up to her at a gas station and says “I did it!” expecting a gold medal for coming out to her parents. The POV is filtered through how being gay is funny, you can treat a gay person how you want, and we will forgive you, and even uplift you, with Tumblr accounts dedicated to flowery photos of Mackenzie Davis smiling.

With everything happening in the world, our pent-up anger has lent us an outlet online and boy, are lesbians pissed. It’s hard to remember we are on the same side of an argument, feeling oppressed does stifle a queer person’s ability to come out, but the way in which Harper approaches this is unacceptable. There is empathizing with someone’s situation, sympathizing with the struggle of coming out to loved ones, but, considering how much praise this movie has faced in the press, it is important we highlight this is not behavior that should be supported in media.

I have fought with people online about this, spent endless nights on Tiktok or Twitter coming for Harper stans like they are the issue. It’s more nuanced than another coming out story, there’s weight behind this being the first lesbian movie and at the same time, this being one to greenlight toxic abusive behavior in a film that would otherwise be great. We want media where lesbians can just exist and are not condemned for it, such as in this Indiewire piece on Bly Manor. I’m still not over it.

Happiest Season sheds a light on Hollywood’s greatest problem. A world has been built for straight narratives only and as baby gays, and queer filmmakers, navigate that world there are demands: make the conflict coming out, illuminate how being queer itself is hard, tie along a straight audience by making them understand this is our only battle. As someone in their first lesbian relationship, I understand why this film might have meant a lot to me a while ago but now, I want to celebrate the moments in my life that are real. Hanging out with my girlfriend in bed, anxiously shopping for a gift in the same store without the other knowing, sharing a kiss under the mistletoe at our coworker’s party. Happiest Season shouldn’t be celebrated, it should be critiqued. It should be a sign of how far media has yet to come. As Rachel Charlene Lewis writes in Bitch Media,

“I will rewatch Happiest Season many times over, much like I watched The L Word 15 times in a row when I realized I was gay, and much like I’ve spent hours clinging to YouTube compilations of the smallest of gay breadcrumbs in otherwise straight shows. We haven’t reached the point where there are enough of these films for me to feel like I can really pass any sort of judgment; how do you judge the first, second, or third of something? There is always room for growth.”