‘The Last of Us’ and the queer victory of aging

Thoughts on the inspiring love between Bill and Frank of The Last of Us.

February 7, 2023

The following contains spoilers for episode 3 of The Last of Us.

Like a lot of folks, I was deeply impacted by the third episode of HBO’s adaptation of The Last of Us. Titled “Long, Long Time,” the episode focuses on Bill, the gruff, curmudgeonly doomsday prepper from whom Joel and Ellie get their car after a series of snappy barbs and fights with Infected in the game.

In an ambitious departure from the source material, “Long, Long Time,” directed by Peter Hoar (Daredevil, It’s a Sin) and written by co-creator of the show Craig Mazin (Chernobyl), focuses on the relationship between Bill and Frank, a wayward man who was trying to get to Boston before stumbling upon Bill’s house – or rather – stumbling into one of his traps near his house four years into the outbreak.

Through Hoar and Mazin, what went from being a darkly comedic one-off on Joel and Ellie’s trip cross country, turned into one of the most heartfelt and touching stories about finding hope in the most impossible of circumstances.

There are dozens of things I can discuss from the episode, but the part that stuck with me the most was a line Frank says toward the middle. After Bill laments over getting old, Frank gently says, “getting older means we’re still here.” I am not exaggerating when I say that that line has bounced around in my head for the past several days. This simple sentence gets more profound when you think about it in the context of unwavering queer resilience in spite of unending, uncontrollable horrors.

You don’t have to try very hard to see that there is rampant anti-LGBTQ+ legislation happening almost daily on a national and global scale. Whether it is mandates denying trans people vital health care services, banning books, affirming images, and language, or the malignant, insidious lie that those in the LGBTQ+ community are a danger to children, there are constant threats to our lives and an attempt to erase our histories.

This violent rhetoric is not new; misplaced moral panic and damning legislation aimed at LGBTQ+ folks has always existed in some form or fashion, but there is something particularly concerning how homophobic and transphobic vitriol has metastasized in heaping volumes, as if those who govern states and countries and continents are rushing to meet a quota for how many LGBTQ+ lives they can hinder, ruin, and cut short, no matter the age. It seems like, nowadays, the concept of queer people being able to age and live a long life is becoming a heartbreakingly rare occurrence.

the last of us nick offerman — Photo: Liane Hentscher/HBO

Knowing this reality, watching Bill and Frank live and grow old together in spite of everything felt like a triumph, like I was watching two people win the hardest challenge imaginable. Here you have these two gay men, survivors of the HIV/AIDS crisis and every other legislative and environmental hardship thrown at them, finding each other, and making a good, fulfilling life for themselves. They sustained their little world and relationship for decades and found pleasure in the simple things; painting, watering flowers, a good meal, or strawberries fresh from the garden.

I want to commend Hoar and Mazin for choosing to tell their story the way they did, with dignity and kindness as opposed to using old, tired storytelling befitting the zombie genre or relying on harmful tropes. I was especially touched by how they handled Frank’s illness; focusing on the nurturing aspect of being a caregiver instead of sensationalizing it really touched my heart.

I won’t lie. Before the premiere, when I heard that “Long, Long Time” was going to focus on Bill and Frank I expected the worst. I braced myself for an episode that took the easy way out. I steeled myself for an hour full of tragic imagery that bordered on pornographic, an episode that, no doubt, would end with Frank getting bitten and Bill having to put him out of his misery. Or even worse, a hate crime at the hands of FEDRA or some other antagonistic party.

I was wondering how the show would lead to the hardened, cold, husk of a man who trusts nothing and no one. How they would tie it back to the game, where the last we hear of Bill is him telling Joel to “get the f*ck out of his town” and laugh at a lonely man and his adult magazine. So you can imagine my surprise when we got the antithesis of all my worries.

I watched the episode end and the credits roll, not with a feeling of emptiness like I watched something that deeply disturbed me, but rather I was uplifted and felt hopeful, not just because Joel seemed like he was energized to officially protect Ellie, but for my own future, too.

the last of us murray-bartlett-nick-offerman-old — Photo: Liane Hentscher/HBO

For a lot of us, it feels as though the world is making it more difficult for LGBTQ+ folks to find joy, as if those of us in this group are not allowed to experience hope and look forward to the future. It would be a lie if I said I didn’t feel that way sometimes; when I look at the news and hear the reactions of people directly impacted by violent and fascist policies, it’s hard to not feel disheartened and sink in despair. But then I remember that that’s exactly what the bigots want.

The bigots want me to give up, to roll over and take it. I can’t let that happen, not for me, not for my friends, not for anyone. Like Bill and Frank, I want to be able to say that myself and those like me are still here and will continue to live and love and relish in joy.

I certainly hope that there won’t be anything as bad as an unstoppable cordyceps infection (knock on wood), but there is an odd encouragement to come from watching them thrive in their own apocalypse. Like Bill and Frank, we will win. We will thrive. We will be able to grow old and live long lives and look around, realizing we have outlived our enemies and that we, too, are still here.