By Chris Revelle | TV | February 26, 2025
There’s a moment in the first episode of AppleTV+’s Prime Target that I didn’t see coming, and of all surprises to be found on the series where math is magic and mathematicians are treated like mad scientists with the potential to destroy the world, the thing that surprised me the most was this moment of character development. The handsome but painfully aloof maths wunderkind Ed (Leo Woodall) has come to a bar with some friends, albeit with tremendous reluctance. Disengaged and bored, he offers to get drinks for the group. When the bartender Adam (Fra Free) comes up to take the order, there’s an immediate spark between them. Prime Target cuts from their Olympic-level flirtation to Ed’s bedroom where they spend their first night together. The hunky male lead is gay? In my math thriller? I never thought I’d see the day.
There’s a sort of double sight that can come from being a queer viewer. Queer sexuality is one of the most normal things in the world, but that’s not necessarily reflected in mainstream media. American culture makes stumbling, one-step-forward-two-steps-back progress, but is still very much a product of static, regressive, and unrealistic concepts of sexuality and gender. That creates an expectation about the media this culture will produce. So while it shouldn’t be strange for the hero of a blockbuster to be gay, the blockbuster is likely operating on more conservative social logic. So it goes with Prime Target, a series that’s otherwise a broad, tropey conspiracy thriller. I expected it to serve up the requisite hetero relationship because that’s generally what mainstream thrillers do. And here it is, giving me gay stuff instead.
It’s a pleasant surprise when the dreamy-faced male lead of the globe-trotting thriller has a boyfriend. This isn’t to say that Prime Target is some layered look at queer relationships or is even all that concerned with the relationship itself. Adam exists to give Ed a human connection outside the web of intrigue and provide emotional stakes. That’s no knock on Woodall and Free’s commitment or palpable chemistry, but the show isn’t particularly concerned with the relationship outside of it being a source of tension between the normie human world Adam lives in and the math-spies world Ed is in. It’s standard stuff to give the hero a love interest who will be frustrated or imperiled by the dangerous plot unfolding; it’s just that those couplings are almost always heterosexual. Heterosexuality is the mainstream media’s default setting. When it features queer relationships instead, it’s usually either represented with a supporting character or the plot concept itself is directly concerned with telling a “queer story.” Prime Target is telling a spy-thriller story with a requisite romance for its lead and it’s unexpectedly cool that it made its romance queer.
The series won’t be winning GLAAD awards, but Prime Target’s act of normalization is striking. It’s small, but it feels notable in a time when representation of anything queer feels charged and challenged. It’s a refreshing reminder that a story can have a queer lead without the story needing to explain, unpack, or educate about queer relationships. This goes a long way toward telegraphing to viewers how normal this is and should be. In some ways, the series feels like a blueprint for how to include queer relationships in blockbuster fare; a gay hero shouldn’t be weird, so don’t make it weird! Ed and Adam’s relationship isn’t interchangeable with a heterosexual one (Adam reacts with an all-too-recognizable frustration when he thinks Ed is closeted), but it serves the same function as a heterosexual one within the story. And why shouldn’t it? Why should a queer relationship be treated so much differently from a heterosexual one in this context?
Prime Target also isn’t the only recent thriller romp to feature a queer lead in this way. Black Doves featured the queer deuteragonist Sam (Ben Whishaw) whose romantic struggles are tied up in his work as a hitman, but are similarly treated. The queer sexuality is in the text of the show, but it’s folded into things in a way that feels natural and organic. Like with Prime Target, the series doesn’t emphasize this as strange or notable because it isn’t. It’s one of the most normal things in the world. I won’t go so far as to predict that we’ll have a queer lead in the next MCU or DCU film, but I foster some small hope that more movies and series will take a cue from Prime Target and Black Doves. These shows suggest that it shouldn’t be radical to have the queer lead of your international spy thriller and they’re right. Queer people are humans just like everyone else and it would be great to see them in the same roles that are typically hetero territory. A queer hero doesn’t need to lead a queer story. A queer hero can just lead.