How ‘Only Murders in the Building’ Perfectly Handles Mabel’s Coming Out

***Some spoilers for episode 5 of Only Murders in the Building***

Surprising absolutely nobody, season two of Hulu’s Only Murders in the Building has (gleefully) continued the first season’s legacy of attacking the ‘generation gap’ in a surprisingly thoughtful, utterly endearing and entirely unexpected manner—by causing a trio of unlikely neighbors to come together to solve a murder, via their shared love of podcasting. Where season one focused on building bonds between Mabel (Selena Gomez), Charles (Steve Martin), and Oliver (Martin Short), season two takes the time to develop each character individually, including the introduction of a new (female) love interest for Mabel. Though Only Murders is hardly attempting to brand itself as the next landmark queer drama, the series’ handling of Mabel’s coming out is not only a refreshing twist on conventionality, but yet another perfect example of how the show’s writing makes magic out of the generation gap between its leads.

Straight out of the gate, Only Murders in the Building season two had no qualms whatsoever about introducing a new love interest for Mabel, barely even taking the time to make notice of the fact that her new beau is of the fairer sex. All of season one, Mabel’s only romantic ties were to Oscar (Aaron Dominguez) who’s (so far) missing this season—leaving the door wide open for someone to come in and sweep the snarky muralist off her feet. That someone, it turns out, its Alice—a mysterious, Uber-cool British artist played by none other than everyone’s favorite real-life queer celebrity harbinger, Cara Delevingne.

When Alice is first introduced, it’s in a storyline entirely separate from both Charles (Steve Martin) and Oliver (Martin Short), which meant that fans didn’t get to see their reactions to Mabel’s new girlfriend, or even the fact that she’s queer at all. It felt like somewhat of a missed opportunity—especially considering the show has a pretty high success rate of getting some amazing comedic moments out of culture clashes in the past—but all was remedied in this week’s episode, “The Tell,” when a hint from Charles’ murderess girlfriend Jan (Amy Ryan) puts Charles and Oliver on the lookout for possible new people who might be trying to worm their way into Mabel’s life.

The scene where Mabel “comes out” to her two friends and co-investigators is set up entirely as a plot-driven element: the next step forward in their typically episode-long investigations. It lacks the pomp and circumstance of a heavy-handed coming out scene like so many we’ve seen before, which so often feature the slow windup, the comforting tones, the angst, and the earnestness. Instead, it’s simply Mabel, Charles, and Oliver batting around possible scenarios, and her new girlfriend happens to come up in conversation. Charles’ reaction is (predictably) a little more conventional, but something about his coltishly supportive mutterings afterward, offset from Oliver’s constant dry wit, makes for just as strong a comedic scene as it is a dramatic one.

“Alice is not a killer. She’s … an intimidatingly cool English girl I’ve been on a few dates with,” Mabel casually assures the older men. Charles repeats, “Dates?” while Oliver says, without missing a beat, “Don’t you know it’s very hip to be bisexual these days, Charles?” And then, winkingly, to Mabel, “You’re lucky. You know, back in the ’70s, I had to hide the fact that I had a lesbian lover.” From the next table over in the diner, a gathering of the trio’s podcast fans are listening, and one of them, Marv, pipes in with, “My daughter came out recently, and I was so proud. She says I’m dead to her, but could a dead man ‘like’ a Facebook post?” All of this is done gently, naturally, and with good comedic humor.

Queer women in television, on the whole, seem to be continuously treated with a strange objectification and frustrating lack of quality writing, especially in contrast to the virtual overflow of queer men in mainstream media. Only Murders boasts a number of gay and lesbian ensemble characters (and performers) all of whom teeter the line between endearing New York stereotype to gay cliche, but still manage to remain likable thanks to fast-paced direction and an impressive lineup of supporting cast members—particularly Da’Vine Joy Randolph’s detective Williams, a lesbian police officer with whom the podcasters have a unorthodox friendship.

In making its female protagonist queer—a protagonist played by arguably the show’s most famous (to a younger generation), certainly the most bankable, cast member—Only Murders in the Building, whether deliberately or not, has added itself among the ranks of queer canon, joining the far too small number of series that boast an LGBTQ+ female lead. Mabel herself is a character who shares the title of ‘lead’ with two other large personalities, and of the trio, she’s perhaps the least outspoken of the bunch, despite having the most narrative significance in season one.

As such, the decision to give Mabel an entirely new love interest from season one (pivoting away from Oscar who was promptly written out) and making this newfound romance the vast majority of her solo arc screen time in season two feels even more significant when nearly all of her scenes apart from Charles and Oliver have something to do with Alice. Granted, this does change after certain late-season revelations (after which she strikes up another, perhaps more tense but no less compelling relationship with an unlikely returning character), but for the vast part of Only Murders season two, Mabel’s story is very much entwined with Alice’s.

Though it’s not quite true to say that all of Only Murders in the Building‘s queer elements work—the character of Alice herself and the eventual revelations about her intentions makes for a messy one that raises a few ethical questions—and Delevingne too is a star sometimes embroiled in controversies in the queer community and in the always-online realm. Still, there’s a refreshing and ever-comforting uniqueness to Only Murders in the Building, and the show’s tone and core trio help breathe new life into conventional TV tropes—even stepping into queer spaces with its singular voice.

(image via Hulu)