[Fleabag laughing]
I hate myself.
We're gonna have sex.
Knew it.
Narrator: Usually, the main character
of the show "Fleabag" is able to speak to
or look directly at the camera
without other characters noticing.
That is, until this moment.
Fleabag: Won't last a week.
Priest: What was that?
Narrator: Suddenly, this reliable aspect
of the show is shattered.
[screams]
But it's not the only tenet that changes.
In fact, nearly all the rules of the show
fall apart in this 10-minute sequence,
revealing that these devices are even more powerful
when they're taken away.
Understanding the way that these rules break
proves why there can never be
a third season of "Fleabag."
The 10-minute sequence,
which occurs at the exact center of season two,
starts at the end of episode three
with this conversation
and continues into episode four.
Fleabag and the Priest go shopping,
go for a walk,
go to a silent Quaker meeting,
walk some more,
and then have a conversation in Fleabag's café.
There are three main devices
that make this sequence different
from the eight and a half episodes that lead up to it.
Let's start with the most obvious:
breaking the fourth wall.
The way Fleabag interacts
with the camera and the audience
is something that immediately sets the show apart
from everything else on TV.
Almost every conversation in the show
is interrupted by this device.
We get so used to it that Fleabag
only has to shoot us a look
and we know what she's thinking.
But as the show goes on,
we get a better sense of why she's so obsessed
with talking to and looking at us.
It's through her closeness with us
that Fleabag remains distanced from other people.
Fleabag: I have friends.
Therapist: Oh, so you do have someone to talk to?
Fleabag: Yeah.
Narrator: Through the attention that she gives the camera,
she remains partially absent and protected
from her conversations with other characters.
Claire: You're being so quiet.
Why aren't you saying anything?
Narrator: But in this moment,
the Priest cuts through this defense.
Priest: Where did you just go?
Narrator: Throughout the 10-minute sequence,
as Fleabag spends the day with the Priest,
she keeps us in the loop.
But it gets harder for her to keep
this audience relationship secret
the longer she's with him.
Take a look at this exchange.
Fleabag: His neck.
Narrator: Fleabag says that to us.
Priest: And you never felt them go somewhere?
Fleabag: No, they were already gone.
Narrator: Then she accidentally answers his question to us.
Fleabag: His beautiful neck.
Priest: What?
Narrator: And says what's meant for us
directly to the Priest.
Fleabag: What?
Priest: You just said, "His beautiful neck."
Narrator: This sequence, which traces the progression
of a relationship from distant, to close,
to uncomfortably close,
challenges her to shed this defense.
Priest: What is that?
Fleabag: What? [laughs]
Priest: That thing that you're doing.
It's like you disappear.
Fleabag: What?
Priest: What are you not telling me?
Fleabag: Nothing!
Narrator: Talking to us prevents her
from getting too close to people,
and this sequence strips that from her.
But her asides aren't
the only element that breaks down.
The editing style the show is known for
almost entirely disappears during this sequence.
The easiest way to get a sense
of how the show is usually shot and edited
is to look at the dinner scene
at the top of season two.
As the scene starts,
there are 16 cuts in just 30 seconds
and 11 different types of shots.
Compare that to how this sequence begins.
Just three different shot types
and only six cuts in 30 seconds.
Now, you might think this difference
is just because we're comparing a scene with six people
to a scene with just two.
But even if you dissect other
two-person conversations throughout the show,
they look a lot more like the dinner scene.
Fleabag: I need to speak to Martin.
Claire: Martin? Fleabag: Martin.
Martin.
Claire: Why on earth would you want to speak to -
Fleabag: Martin?
Narrator: It's not just the speed of cuts
that changes during the sequence.
It's also the style.
Throughout the rest of the show,
editor Gary Dollner uses jump cuts,
hard audio cuts, and scene transitions
that cut off characters mid-wor-
Godmother: Do you know, the most fascinating thing
about Father here
is that his mother was originally a lesbi-
Narrator: He also frequently cuts
across the 180-degree line,
breaking a filmmaking rule that helps maintain
a clear sense of where characters are positioned
in relation to each other.
In contrast, Fleabag and the Priest's scenes
during this sequence are framed and edited
in a simpler, more fluid way.
During the first two conversations
in the house and on the bench,
we get that setup with three traditional shot types:
one medium shot on each character
and one wide shot, which they share.
Unlike the dinner scene, the camera remains
on the same side of the characters,
following the 180-degree rule.
This sequence also opens with a smooth audio lead-in.
Fleabag: So, I read your book.
Priest: OK, great.
Fleabag: Well, it's got some great twists.
Narrator: When Fleabag and the Priest
walk down the street,
they spend a long time sharing
just this one camera angle from the front.
Traditionally, editors try to hide cuts
and make scenes feel seamless.
But in "Fleabag," cuts are jarring and noticeable.
Fleabag is divided from the people around her,
so the show's editing feels fragmented too.
But that all changes during this sequence.
There's one final clue that this sequence
is operating differently than the rest of the show.
[choral theme music]
This is how the show flashes its title
throughout the second season.
Fleabag: This is a love story.
[choral theme music]
Amen.
[choral theme music]
[choral theme music] [Fleabag gasps]
[choral theme music]
Narrator: This Greek choral singing
frequently overlays Fleabag's thoughts about the Priest.
It's a reverent, Catholic-sounding theme,
but it represents Fleabag's desire
to violate a core Catholic principle.
Using this sense of irony,
Fleabag turns her interest in him
into just another inside joke with us,
the audience.
Fleabag: Oh, God, I fancy a priest.
Narrator: But look at the opening of episode four
during the game-changing 10-minute sequence.
Fleabag: Last one, definitely.
Priest: Yeah, great.
[romantic guitar music]
Narrator: We hear music that is genuinely romantic.
When she begins to care more about him
than she does about entertaining us,
everything shifts.
So, this sequence stands out,
but what's the point in changing the way the show works
for just 10 minutes?
As Fleabag heals from grief,
her dysfunctional relationship with the audience
and the filmmaking language
that constitutes that relationship transform.
That's why the show ends with Fleabag
refusing to let us follow behind her.
This choice wouldn't be as striking
without her 10-minute day and night with the Priest.
During "Fleabag"'s perfect sequence,
we get a sense not just of why her relationship
with us has to end,
but what it's been preventing her from seeing.