[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.
