Ah, HoYay!
What is this term exactly? It’s the smooshing together of the gleeful cry “Homoeroticism, yay!” It’s what happens when a fan perceives the possibility of homoerotic subtext in his or her fandom of choice. It can be as flagrant as two scantily clad women rolling around in the surf together, or as fleeting as a “gay look.”
It’s a highly subjective phenomenon, to be sure – much HoYay is easily brushed aside as wishful thinking, and usually not even all fans of the concept can agree on whether the HoYay is even there.
I had an eye for it very early on, before the term even existed: at age eleven I brought a copy of The Return of the King to my teacher to ask her why Sam had married Rosie Cotton, when he was clearly in love with Frodo. I had certain passages, which I felt proved their love, underlined in pen. She urged me to think of Frodo and Sam’s relationship as just “a very strong friendship,” and also not to mark up my books. Me: “Yeah, right.”
I discovered HoYay and sarcasm on the very same day!
Years passed, and the internet assured me that tons of people got the Frodo/Sam thing. I can’t remember when I first saw the term HoYay, but I certainly knew exactly how to apply it once I did: “Like Xena!”
We fantasy fans have plenty of HoYay on our hands, but none more overt, none that so skirted the border of subtext and text, as the relationship of Xena and Gabrielle. Other HoYay goldmines in fantasy television include Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Smallville, and Lost.
And after seeing the first season of Merlin, it looks like we have an up-and-coming contributor on our hands.
Now, Merlin is a family show, so for those eagerly awaiting the racy or naughty moments between Merlin and Arthur (or Morgana and Gwen): not gonna happen. The subtext is not sexually charged. The most we can really hope for is innuendo, but as any fellow Doctor Who fan knows, innuendo is a little thing that makes a big difference.
I know when Merlin was writhing on the bed moaning Arthur’s name during “The Poisoned Chalice,” I wasn’t the only one in my household who tittered and blushed, despite the fact that nothing remotely sexual was really going on.
But other than the above example, featuring what I can only assume is Colin Morgan’s “sex-face,” Merlin HoYay is generally pretty tame. There is certainly nothing tremendously suggestive of either young man actually being gay. In fact, I would describe the subtext between the two leads as not so much homoerotic, but more “homo-romantic” — and nowhere near as blatant as on many of the other shows I’ve mentioned, especially early in the season. However, for the HoYay aficionado, there is plenty of subtext to spot.
For me, “The Poisoned Chalice” was the episode where I first saw the potential for some simmering HoYay, and from then on I was on alert for more subtext. But I found that for the first half of the season, it arrived on an exceedingly slow burn, and it was all highly subjective.
For example, one of my favorite little moments is in “Lancelot,” when Merlin asks Gwen to play a round of Would You Rather… Arthur or Lancelot?
Most probably see this as an innocuous, playful moment. Those who are familiar with the classical Guinevere will see her reply as ironic foreshadowing. And those who have their eyes peeled for HoYay see this as a question that has clearly been on Merlin’s mind ever since Lancelot started sharing his bedroom (which Lancelot does for the entire episode, even after being Knighted).
See how fun spotting the HoYay can be?
Much of the HoYay speculation on Merlin is generated by the relationship between Merlin and Arthur, and the somewhat suggestive ways it develops over the course of the season. Merlin devotes himself to Arthur quite early on, despite initial misgivings, yet is constantly aggrieved by his inability to be completely honest with him regarding his secret magical nature; Merlin is “in the closet,” magically speaking, and all of his angsting over this plays out very reminiscent of a young man with a forbidden love on his mind. Every time he almost tells Arthur his secret, it’s as if he’s about to proclaim his undying love, with his big earnest eyes and trembling pouty lips (one example of the many, many “gay looks” that are thrown around Camelot).
My theory is that if Arthur does not already suspect that Merlin is a warlock by the end of the season, he almost certainly suspects that Merlin has an enormous crush on him.
Arthur, for his part, is inordinately familiar with Merlin from almost the beginning — there isn’t anyone else in his life that we see him smirking at or bantering with in such a friendly way. He’s also unable to get a handle on the master/servant aspect of their relationship: he’s willing to defy his father and risk his life for Merlin as early as Episode 4, and eventually his constant commands, demands, and berating of his manservant become a strange little joke between them. Arthur insults Merlin; Merlin is overly happy about this — it’s their thing.
By the end of the season, Arthur’s unlikely devotion to his servant has become common knowledge to everyone except Merlin. Gwen, Morgana, Merlin’s mother, Gaius, the Great Dragon, even Uther – they all, at some point, will take Merlin aside to tell him how good he is for Arthur, how much Arthur obviously trusts and needs and likes Merlin, and what a totally cute couple they are.
(Okay, it was really only the Dragon that said that last one, and he said it in his vague dragon-speak that Merlin is apparently incapable of deciphering.)
If you don’t see the HoYay, far be it from me to press it upon you. As I’ve said, it’s very subjective, and there are certainly enough potential heterosexual pairings around. I enjoy Gwen’s awkward flirting with the boys as much as I enjoy the intimacy and affection between her and Morgana. But I must warn/tease you that after a point, the Merlin/Arthur HoYay stops being subtle, and I think any fan would be hard-pressed to ignore it – specifically episode 10, wherein Merlin brings Arthur home to meet his mother and ex-boyfriend.
And the boiling point is the entirety of episode 11, which I have been known to (lovingly) refer to as “the gayest gay thing I have ever seen on television.” And yes, I’ve seen Torchwood.
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Though not as good as the book on which it’s based, this 2001 TNT miniseries showcased a feminist reimagining of Camelot, where the women did the heavy lifting when it came to pushing the plot forward. For a made-for-TV movie, the production values were pretty admirable, and it boasted some surprisingly good performances, most notably Julianna Margulies as Morgaine and Angelica Houston as Vivianne. Despite the slightly dragging pace toward the end, and the fact that Arthur and Lancelot suddenly appear out of nowhere in fake beards and Prince Valiant wigs to show the passage of time, this is still one of the better versions of the story out there.
Though dated within an inch of its life, this movie still pretty much rocks. Artfully directed by John Boorman, Excalibur is a compressed, 120-minute version of almost the entirety of Thomas Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur, which is one of the best known works of Arthurian literature, and what many people consider “canon.” The film covers all the bases: Uther wining the kingdom, the sword in the stone, Arthur’s young life, Merlin being trapped in a tree, Lancelot and Guinevere, Mordred, the quest for the Holy Grail … name it and it’s in there. Nicol Williamson chews the scenery — but in a good way — as Merlin, and Helen Mirren steals the show as Morgana. Come to think of it, when is Morgana (Or Morgaine, or Morgan le Fay, whatever you want to call her) not a scene-stealing role?
Taking a well-known and well-loved fantasy story, removing all of the magic, and turning it into a gritty, severed-limbs-and-all war movie is an awfully risky move, as evidenced by 2004’s lukewarm Troy. But Antoine Fuqua’s King Arthur, which came out the same year, was so much better than it should have been, and took many people by surprise with just how slick and watchable it ended up being. Much of its strength is in its casting: Clive Owen is a strong and fascinating Arthur, Ioan Gruffud makes for a sympathetic and earnest Lancelot, and then there’s the film’s secret weapon in Keira Knightly, who is the most bad-ass Guinevere you will ever see. Here the character has been reimagined as a “Woad” (the film’s version of Picts, native people of Scotland), and she fights harder and more viciously than any of the men in the final epic battle scene. Plus she’s not too hard to look at in her leather and green body paint.
Renowned thespian Martin Lawrence, perhaps best known to many for his work on the London stage as part of the Royal Shakespeare Company, brought his theatrical charisma and dramatic gravitas to the role of Jamal Walker in Black Knight, a fiercely intelligent and moving adaptation of Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. Though it was robbed of the Academy Award in a shocking upset to Daddy Day Care, Black Knight remains in the heart of the public as the definitive cinematic glimpse into life in Camelot.
Guinevere and Lancelot 
Han Solo and Princess Leia 
Lestat and, Well, Everybody 
Sam and Frodo 
Achilles and Patroclus – Many historians agree that Achilles and Patroclus were seen by the ancients as a couple, but the ridiculous de-gaying of these characters in 2004’s Troy (“This is Patroclus, my…uh…cousin! Yeah, he’s my cousin.”) assured that the masses that get their knowledge through pop entertainment never even knew they were in love. Nevertheless, Achilles’ quest for vengeance after his lover’s death is one for the ages.
