Why do so many queer storylines end in tragedy and death? Self-described “TV junkie” and Canadian filmmaker Regan Latimer tackles this question in her insightful and highly entertaining documentary, Bulletproof: A Lesbian’s Guide to Surviving the Plot. Through a mix of archival footage, original 1960s-style animation, and interviews with industry insiders, advocates, and fans, Latimer weaves a compelling narrative about queer representation in media across the decades. The film is infused with personal touches that only a true connoisseur of television and film could bring, including a delightful animated character named “Sally.”
The documentary playfully opens with a disclaimer: this isn’t a definitive authority on representation. “It’s just a single, sparkly drop in a vast ocean of queer stories.” But Latimer successfully argues that how queer characters are portrayed in media matters deeply. Representation can mean the difference between an affirming experience—where a viewer sees themselves reflected in a character—and a deeply negative one, such as when the “bury your gays” trope hits painfully close to home.
“When you’re attached to a character, however fictional, their death can feel real,” Latimer explains in the film. “That feeling when you’re watching a show, and they introduce a character you have a curious affinity for, and you get that flutter of excitement.” For Latimer, those early flutters were tied to characters like Jo from Facts of Life or “anyone like Kristy McNichol in a button-down shirt.”
While the 1980s offered a few tomboy characters, the screen was largely a “barren landscape” for queer women. The rare “lesbionic storylines” that emerged often ended in tragedy, such as The Children’s Hour (1961), in which Martha (Shirley MacLaine) hangs herself, or Lost and Delirious (2001). “That one really affected me,” Latimer tells GO. “I wasn’t out yet, but I won tickets to a screening, if you can believe it.”
For many, these early depictions were better than nothing. “We were happy just to see a gay character,” Michelle Mama, executive producer of Canada’s Drag Race, says in the film. Her first triumphant queer memory was Bound (1996), with its happy ending and raw, erotic sex. Journalist Trish Bendix recalls the fleeting kiss on LA Law in 1991 as groundbreaking, though most earlier portrayals depicted queer women as predatory or villainous, punished with discrimination, death, or even a return to heterosexuality—a “punishment” Bendix jokingly underscores.
The trends of queer suffering persisted into the 21st century. Latimer points to Jeri Hogarth (Carrie-Anne Moss) in Marvel’s Jessica Jones: “As much as I liked her character, she was definitely not a positive queer representation.” Most recently, Latimer critiques Agatha All Over. “I loved Kathryn Hahn’s portrayal, and the relationship with Aubrey Plaza. But talk about toxic!”
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From 1976 to 2016, only 11% of TV shows featured lesbian or bisexual characters, and 35% of them were killed off. This systemic problem came to a head during what Latimer calls “The Great Lesbian Massacre of 2016,” when seven queer female characters were killed off in a single 10-day span. The tipping point for Latimer was Denise’s brutal death in The Walking Dead, shot through the eye as she professed her love.
The death of Lexa from The 100 added fuel to the fire. Lexa’s death sparked what Latimer calls “The Great Queer Audience Uprising of 2016.” Fans rallied on social media, and the showrunner, Javier Grillo-Marxuach, faced intense backlash. Grillo-Marxuach admits, “Well, I’m not killing any more lesbians.”
The documentary doesn’t just catalog injustices; it also celebrates progress. Shows like San Junipero (Black Mirror), Gentleman Jack, and Wynonna Earp offer empowering depictions of queer women. Latimer captures the joy of community efforts like ClexaCon, where fans celebrate positive representation.
Ultimately, Bulletproof is a love letter to queer audiences and a call for change. Latimer’s film is a reminder that even one “sparkly drop” can create waves. With an upbeat tone and charming humor, it offers hope for a future where queer stories are more diverse, affirming, and abundant.
Follow updates on screenings and streaming announcements on Instagram (@bulletproofdoc).
