Fellow Travelers' Fire Island Episode Is Reliably Hot and Unexpectedly Poignant

Throughout its first six episodes, Fellow Travelers has toggled between the story of two red-hot lovers — Hawk (Matt Bomer) and Tim (Jonathan Bailey) — and the backdrop of political and social repression against which their romance has been set. That repression set the boundaries for Hawk and Tim's relationship, what it could be and what it couldn't. Now, with the series jumping ahead in time from the Lavender Scare of the '50s to the White Night riots in 1978, the gay rights movement has also leaped forward. Pride parades were putting the cause of gay liberation in the American public's face as sure as a cream pie in front of Anita Bryant’s.

But any optimism that it might open a door for Hawk and Tim to resume their romance has been trounced by time and tragedy. We learn this week that Hawk's son Jackson has, in the intervening years, died of a heroin overdose. Hawk is in mourning, estranged from his wife and daughter, and taking refuge in the gay enclave of Fire Island. And while the hedonism on display — all sex, drugs, and bitchery — can blur the lines between then and now, "White Nights" delivers a portrait of Fire Island that feels both visceral, unapologetic, and ultimately holistic about the role that gay community plays on this show.

The scenes on Fire Island largely play out through Tim's perspective, which is why the place starts out seeming like a pit of sin. Cocaine decorates all available flat surfaces, Hawk's housemates are either sizing Tim up or hissing at his choice of plaid button-downs (or both), and Hawk emerges looking like the third act of a biopic about a rock star who died young. Tim has tracked down Hawk with the obvious intent of pulling him out of this tailspin of grief and self-destruction, and at first blush, the Fire Island Pines seems like the instrument of that destruction.

But appearances aren't always what they seem, and Fellow Travelers, when it's not delivering the year's most scorching sex scenes, is more interested in the need for queer community than you expect. As the weekend goes on, Tim is drawn in by Hawk's circle of revelers.

They chat about how no one gives their last name out on the Pines, since they have to maintain a veil of secrecy when it comes to their straight-coded lives back in the city. The reality of this "gay paradise" as a momentary respite from the crushing weight of the closet dawns on Tim. Most of all, they talk about Harvey Milk, the gay San Francisco politician who was assassinated alongside mayor George Moscone. The jury in Dan White’s trial was expected to return a verdict soon, and the undercurrent of unease buried deep beneath the party drugs and indiscriminate sex is allowed to surface as Hawk's friends ask Tim if they knew Harvey Milk and what the San Francisco scene has been like since his death.

Tim is a social worker now, able to apply the talents that were once put in service to Joe McCarthy to help queer people in need. He's found community among the San Franciscans fighting for queer liberation. He's found authenticity. It's everything he couldn't have in Washington with Hawk. The scene on Fire Island tempts Tim to be self-righteous — that his politically awake sense of queer community trumps the pleasure-seeking community Hawk has found.

But the truth is more complicated. For one thing, Hawk doesn't see himself as part of this community. He doesn't even like to call himself gay, preferring "homosexual" for reasons which sound technocratic ("homo" from the Latin for "man," and sexual, for, well, "sexual"). Later, when word begins to snake around the dance club that Milk's killer was convicted of the lesser charge of manslaughter, Tim sees the devastation wash over these men he'd dismissed as mere party boys. Their pain is the same.

It's been fascinating in recent years to watch mainstream pop culture try to accommodate formerly exclusive queer culture like drag and Fire Island. There are conflicting motivations for queer creators to neither sand down the edges for straight consumption nor resort to cliche. The legacy of a place like Fire Island, then and now, is rich and complex. The liberation of free love and the euphoria of letting loose with your chosen people is as true as the realities of people who try to bury their pain in callow lovers and numbing narcotics.

Tim is able to take it all in, the freedom and regret in equal measure. Initially, he wants to save Hawk from this place. Then he wants to save Hawk from himself. Ultimately, he has to let Hawk go. The threesome between Tim, Hawk, and Hawk's island lover, Craig (Morgan Lever), is both hot and meaningful, moreso for Tim than anyone else. He gets to experience the rush of pleasure with Hawk and also the rush of carnality Hawk feels for this guy Tim can't stand. If getting horny for your beloved and the person you hate the most because that's what everyone needs right now isn't a testament to queer solidarity, then I'm not sure what is.

In the end, Tim can't save Hawk, and Hawk doesn't yet want to be saved. But they each have a moment of appreciation for the queer community of Fire Island. Hawk looks on from a distance at a candlelight vigil on the beach, the party boys having their own White Night. He's homosexual, yes, but not gay. He's still on the outside by choice. Meanwhile, Tim gets a send-off from Hawk's friend Rafael (Carlos Gonzalez-Vio) that feels almost like a benediction: "There will be people who say 'You must get over him if you want to be happy.' And they will be right. But it will also be the stupidest thing anyone ever says to you." It's kindness and wisdom from someone who Tim at first likely thought capable of neither. And it reflects an episode where queer people and queer culture are granted the complexity they deserve.

Fellow Travelers airs Sundays at 9:00 PM ET on Showtime. Join the discussion about the show in our forums.

Joe Reid is the senior writer at Primetimer and co-host of the This Had Oscar Buzz podcast. His work has appeared in Decider, NPR, HuffPost, The Atlantic, Slate, Polygon, Vanity Fair, Vulture, The A.V. Club and more.