Let’s Talk About 'Fleabag': The Hot Priest

Art by Isa Luzarraga

Phoebe Waller Bridge’s Fleabag has become my most beloved piece of media. With quick Brit-wit, relatable subject matter, and monologues that will make your father cry, there is not much you can’t love. Season two introduces the notorious Hot Priest, whose on-screen chemistry with Fleabag is so palpable it has you feeling like you should look around to make sure no one sees you intruding. Their “love story” resonated with me more than Rose and Jack’s, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s, and Allie and Noah’s. I, like everyone else, was utterly humbled and left destroyed by their ending. “It will pass” still haunts me, following me everywhere. 

Being a masochist means my idea of fun is to rewatch and rewatch and rewatch the already too-short of a show, continuing the cycle of pain until I eventually take a tolerance break for a few weeks. Upon my approximate 37th rewatch, I noticed my brain forge connections it hadn’t before. Our precious Hot Priest, who “saves” our Fleabag from herself, is actually just a man who, like every man, only has one thing on his mind: sex. The brilliance of the show alludes to Fleabag (notorious user of sex as a coping mechanism) being the temptation that corrupts the Hot Priest, but if you look at their dynamic outside of the spell Andrew Scott puts you under, you’ll notice the “kneel” scene is a lot less romantic than you thought–in fact, it’s not romantic at all. 

But that’s jumping ahead; looking back at the introduction to the Hot Priest, one of the most valuable interactions he and Fleabag have is when she tells the audience that no one has asked her a question in 45 minutes. He immediately interrupts her and asks her what she does for a living, unaware that she was just complaining about no one paying her any mind. This moment makes us feel like the Hot Priest truly sees her, which is what we, as an audience, are rooting for her to find. We don’t know much about how Fleabag looks to everyone else when she speaks to the audience, but it can be assumed that she just dissociates, and for him to pick up on such subtle changes tells us a lot about him as a character; he’s perceptive, engaged, and interested in her. 

Later on in the season, the Hot Priest eventually breaks the fourth wall with Fleabag and ventures into her little “void” world where we, her audience, exist. This was Phoebe Waller Bridge’s inspiration and idea behind making a second season, exploring someone breaking that wall with Fleabag. However, all of the little heartwarming moments where we fall in love with this duo eventually become every reason why they’ll never work. After a first watch, you might think they shouldn’t be together for the obvious reason: he’s a priest, she’s a sex addict, but that’s not nearly all there is to it. The Hot Priest’s alcohol consumption is strategically portrayed not to be alarming to the casual viewer. Still, if you pay attention, you’ll notice that in almost every scene in which he is not working, he’s drinking. It can be concluded that his parents being alcoholics, accompanied by his large consumption of liquor on screen, means that he is an alcoholic himself. This might not have been a problem for Fleabag if she didn’t have an addictive personality and was easily influenced by those around her.

Additionally, the Hot Priest goes out of his way to get Fleabag more involved in his life despite trying to deflect their apparent attraction. Depending on how seriously we’re taking Fleabag’s universe for our own, a real priest would have taken many, many oaths and gone through so many trials and tribulations before working at a parish of that size, so it’s doubtful that a priest of his standing would go so far out of his way to spend time with someone that tempts him. Of course, I must mention where he calls out Fleabag for her blatant attraction to him, saying “Fuck you! Calling me Father as if it doesn’t turn you on just to say it.” This line being the reason many people started watching the show also shows us that he wasn’t oblivious and innocent in their courtship; he knew, and now she knew that he knew.

Finally, the “kneel” scene. The scene is set in the Hot Priest’s parish, in the confessional booth, which immediately constitutes a power-play. They are on his turf, not in one of the casual back rooms but out in the center, where God is “really” watching, and she’s put on the spot. Fleabag is highly apprehensive about the entire situation but decides (after some liquid courage) to follow along with his request. We have watched Fleabag fall and grow and fall again for two seasons, leading her to finally open up to someone and be vulnerable. This isn’t Fleabag’s first or last monologue of the series, but it is the most soul-bearingly intimate. She’s not making an obvious sort of revelation about herself or talking about the many burdens women face (which is an excellent monologue given by Belinda); she openly admits to him things that reflect who she truly is: “I want someone to tell me what to believe in”, leading to her sobbing. This vulnerability is met with her confidant taking that as his opportunity to initiate power over her, telling her to “Kneel” as he rips open the curtain and physically stands over her. This leads to a make-out session, which she is made to feel guilty for. This is not to say that Fleabag would not have jumped at the opportunity to kiss him, but how it happened and how he went about it leaves no other conclusion than him taking advantage of her fragile, emotional state. Later, when they do eventually have sex, there’s an acceptance that they both go into it willingly and by their own choice, but still, Fleabag is a victim in her own right, regardless of the villain title we (the audience) give her and that she, herself, claims. 

Although Fleabag is not a saint, we still root for her and want her to win. We want her to find acceptance, self-love, and possibly real love with someone else. Anyone who loved her and the Hot Priest together fell into the same trap that Fleabag did because the most attractive quality he possesses is his unavailability. If you strip away the fact that he’s a priest who practices celibacy, suddenly, it seems a lot less exciting and enticing to pursue him. She wanted him because she couldn’t have him, and we wanted them together because they couldn’t be and, in the end, weren’t. It’ll pass.