I will admit that I have seen Ron Nyswaner’s aching limited series, Fellow Travelers, three times through now, and it remains one of the most passionate shows in recent memory. Showtime’s series made headlines for its honest and graphic depiction of two men hiding their love and lust during the rise of the McCarthy-era Lavender Scare, and it rightfully earned nominations for Nyswaner’s writing and for the supporting turn by Jonathan Bailey. It appears right now that Bailey is poised to take home some gold in a few weeks, but I would be remiss to let this season end without championing one of the subtlest and accomplished pieces of acting that the season had to offer. Matt Bomer gives the performance of his life as Hawkins Fuller.
I wonder how many people consider themselves to be Bailey’s Tim Laughlin, and, of those people, how many of them had a Hawk in their life. Hawk is the type of man who you would be afraid to catch his eye, that irrepressible feeling rising within you as you realize that, yes, this intelligent, charismatic, and confident man has you in his sights. When we first meet Hawk, his hunger cannot only be satiated by encounters in a nearby restroom. Men know each other mostly by cruising each other regularly, and, surely, men sought to be cast into Hawk’s sights eagerly and just as hungrily as he was on the prowl.
The sex of Fellow Travelers got a ton of press, but not enough has discussed how that sex evolved. Hawk’s touch is rough and commanding when we first meet him but that touch transforms into a more understood and trusting caress as his romance with Tim flourishes. Watching Bomer accept a constant presence in his private quarters should not go unnoticed. His jaw becomes less clenched and his posture more relaxed the more Bailey’s Tim disarms him. It’s a physical transformation that has not gotten enough credit or attention.
In a strange way, Bomer’s Hawk reminded me of the lead character of Martin Sherman’s Bent in terms of how each man promises themselves to survive. That 1979 play–and the subsequent film adaptation from 1997–centers on queer men during the Holocaust, so, obviously, the circumstances could not be further from the events of Nyswaner’s adaptation of Thomas Mallon’s novel. Max, Sherman’s lead, tells himself to stop at nothing to survive and commits unspeakable acts to do so. Hawk doesn’t verbalize that mantra, but commits actions that some might consider cold or cruel. In episode two, he dictates a letter to Tim to help him stay out of trouble when he is known to have been associated with Mary and Caroline, a lesbian couple who get questioned. “What they did was dangerous,” Hawk says to Tim about the women living together. “I thought Mary had more sense than that…they are liabilities.”
We flash back and forth between McCarthy-era Washington D.C. and the 1980s as Hawk tried to reconnect with Tim in San Francisco. Hawk grew up under the guidance of Senator Wesley Smith, and he grew up with Smith’s daughter, Lucy. What Fellow Travelers does not do, thankfully, is make Lucy a villain. It is interested in her heartbreak, too, as she learns that the life that she was brought up to want is a lie. Bomer could’ve made Hawk cold towards his wife as he descends into his own vices during his marriage, but his love for Lucy is genuine and deeply felt. They are simply two pieces of a huge puzzle that do not fit together. The way that Bomer looks at Allison Williams’ Lucy is some of the most affecting work in the series.
Hawk represents legions of men and women who were terrified to live their lives openly, and Bomer’s understanding of that is key to Travelers‘ success. There is a steeliness that he presents to the world hidden behind an easy, charming grin and a cloud of cigarette smoke, but it cracks in almost every scene. Hawk does not just use his gaze to lure men into bed, but he is always observing and studying others and then the reaction to that behavior. Hawkins Fuller has perfected the art of all-American disguise, and he is dying inside.
Bomer and Bailey have truly created a love story that will endure. These men, while fictional, leave a lasting impression for how their love grows, evolves, and how they cannot stay away from one another. I like to think that Tim takes Hawk’s spontaneity and confidence while Hawk becomes more considerate in acceptance of others. How long will Hawk torture himself? I’m not sure. It’s almost as if Hawk will step into each present tentatively, as if waiting for a reaction from the time period itself. As if he is making sure he steps in undetected. Once Hawk travels to San Francisco to see Tim as he is dying of AIDS, he is taken aback by Tim’s edgy tenacity. It is not fair that we lost an entire generation of men, and maybe Hawk will know of more people that die from the virus, but none will affect him like the loss of his Skippy. Bomer wears that anger, frustration, and sadness on his face but he knows to hold it back to keep a semblance of strength.
Fellow Travelers ends with an answer to a question that no one asked. After Tim’s death, Hawk visits the AIDS Memorial Quilt as it lays draped in the National Mall in 1987 with the Washington Monument off in the distance. As he walks through the throngs of people–laying down, touching the fabric, and embracing their loved ones–his perfectly tailored coat jostles in the wind as he hunts what he is looking for. Bomer is tentative but steadfast. He kneels down and brushes something from Tim’s patch of quilt. It’s gentle and, more importantly, generous. For a brief moment, he may not even realize the tears on his face as his daughter approaches him. When he admits to his daughter that Tim was a man that he once loved, it’s a signal of a man who has spent decades–an entire life–of pushing people away finally allowing his heart to remain open.
At the end of the series, Tim tells Hawk, “I spent most of my life waiting for God to love me, and then I realized the only thing that matters is I love God. It’s the same with you. I have loved you my whole life. I never loved anyone but you. You are my great, consuming love. And most people don’t get one of those. I did. I have no regrets.” Hawk’s interaction with his daughter, though, feels more present like he doesn’t want to take the moment for granted. He doesn’t want to do that for Tim. On that chilly day, surrounded by emotion that he understands but might be too ashamed to envelop himself in, Bomer sets Hawk free.
Fellow Travelers is streaming now on Paramount+.
