Why the les­bian peri­od dra­ma is hav­ing a moment

Fol­low­ing last year’s Colette, The Favourite and Lizzie, the num­ber of peri­od dra­mas about women who love women being released con­tin­ues to rise. So far in 2019 we’ve had Tell It to the Bees, Wild Nights with Emi­ly, Netflix’s Elisa & Marcela and the HBO/BBC One series Gen­tle­man Jack. The lat­ter two in par­tic­u­lar have breathed new life into the les­bian peri­od piece, explor­ing real-life indi­vid­u­als through a ten­der, opti­mistic lens. Not only have both dra­mas cre­at­ed new ways to reflect on les­bian his­to­ry, they also offer time­ly, lib­er­at­ing obser­va­tions on the risks that this com­mu­ni­ty takes to fol­low their hearts.

Isabel Coixet’s Elisa & Marcela recounts the true events of Elisa Sánchez Lori­ga and Marcela Gra­cia Ibeas, two women who mar­ried each oth­er in 1901 – the first same-sex union record­ed in Spain. Elisa and Marcela met in col­lege, quick­ly form­ing an inti­mate rela­tion­ship that would last years. In an attempt to make their mar­riage offi­cial, Elisa adopts a male iden­ti­ty of Mario, which was met with ridicule and denun­ci­a­tion when dis­cov­ered. But despite that, the women’s mar­riage cer­tifi­cate was nev­er annulled.

Bathed in black-and-white, Coixet’s direc­tion intri­cate­ly cap­tures the eupho­ria that love cre­ates. The film is unre­strained when nav­i­gat­ing desire, but clear­ly craft­ed with les­bians in mind. (Demon­strat­ing addi­tion­al care for this com­mu­ni­ty, the cred­its even fea­ture pho­tos of les­bian cou­ples on their wed­ding day.) Natalia de Moli­na and Gre­ta Fer­nán­dez, play­ing Elisa and Marcela respec­tive­ly, give per­for­mances of raw emo­tion that inten­si­fies their char­ac­ters’ con­nec­tion. Every touch, word and ges­ture – no mat­ter how small – is deeply felt.

Elisa & Marcela acknowl­edges the les­bo­pho­bia these women faced, but unlike many les­bian peri­od dra­mas before it, the nar­ra­tive isn’t bur­dened by it. Choos­ing to con­cen­trate more on the women’s devo­tion and inti­ma­cy is refresh­ing, doing jus­tice to this lived expe­ri­ence, which was lit­tle-known until now. Fur­ther­more, it con­veys a vital mes­sage to women who love women every­where: the brav­ery that’s inher­ent­ly with­in them will always out­weigh criticism.

Gen­tle­man Jack has a sim­i­lar focus on the courage of its les­bian char­ac­ters. Cre­at­ed by Sal­ly Wain­wright, the series is set in York­shire dur­ing the 1830s and is based on the diaries of landown­er Anne Lis­ter, played by Suranne Jones. It cap­tures her love of life and women with unabashed joy. The show, offer­ing a wealth of roman­tic moments that les­bians on TV hard­ly receive.

Even though the word ​‘les­bian’ didn’t exist dur­ing the days of Anne Lis­ter, she knows exact­ly who she is, going about it open­ly with­out embar­rass­ment or regret, but dig­ni­ty. ​“I love and only love the fair­er sex,” she tells her future wife Ann Walk­er (Sophie Run­dle) in one scene. ​“My heart revolts from any oth­er love than theirs. I was born like this.”

Through­out the series, Anne occa­sion­al­ly breaks the fourth wall. This may catch view­ers off guard ini­tial­ly, but it’s a tes­ta­ment to her bold nature. Her ​‘aware­ness’ of the audi­ence also car­ries impor­tance for Gen­tle­man Jack’s les­bian view­er­ship, a unique inter­con­nec­tion through the eras. If Anne had total belief in her iden­ti­ty dur­ing the time that she lived, and her abil­i­ty to accom­plish any­thing, then any les­bian of today can, too.

Due to the resur­gence of les­bian peri­od dra­mas, les­bian his­to­ry – which has for so long been erased or ignored – is final­ly being acknowl­edged the way it should be. To think that Anne Lister’s diaries could have been burned, for exam­ple, it’s remark­able to behold the admi­ra­tion and atten­tion they are receiv­ing now. These peri­od dra­mas also reflect the fact that women who love women have always exist­ed. Though not with­out hard­ship, the lives of these his­tor­i­cal women weren’t nec­es­sar­i­ly as mis­er­able and repres­sive as one might assume.

There’s more to come, too. Vita & Vir­ginia is set to arrive in the­atres this July, while Carmil­la, an adap­ta­tion of the Goth­ic novel­la, and Céline Sciamma’s Por­trait of a Lady on Fire are also set for release. Look­ing ahead to 2020, Paul Verhoeven’s Benedet­ta and Fran­cis Lee’s Ammonite both promise to be unmiss­able. Final­ly, cre­ators aren’t just under­stand­ing the need for this kind of rep­re­sen­ta­tion but the grav­i­ty of it. The beau­ti­ful, fear­less lives of these women don’t deserve to be forgotten.