Published on Thrillist on March 8, 2021
The mastery of Channel 4’s It’s a Sin, which follows a group of friends navigating the early AIDS epidemic in 1980s London, is in its understanding that even the darkest periods in history are imbued with ambition and joy. That’s not to say that Russell T. Davies’ (Queer as Folk, Years and Years) newest drama series, now available to US audiences on HBO Max, diminishes the inescapable grief that plagued entire generations of queer people, but rather that in order to comprehend the full weight of the AIDS crisis, viewers would need to be privy to the thrilling moments that made life so precious.
In the show’s opening scenes, we’re introduced to three gay teens who each flee the nest to make a life for themselves in London. There, they find one another and soon move into a communal flat they dub the “Pink Palace,” which becomes something of a queer community hub where all are welcome. Over the course of five episodes and 10 years, residents of the Pink Palace find it increasingly difficult to ignore the fast-spreading virus that’s crept into their inner circle, oscillating between pop-filled nights to remember and abrupt visits to the hospital to hug another friend goodbye.
While every gay character on It’s a Sin finds something to live for in a decade when gay men’s lives were particularly fragile, it’s Roscoe Babatunde, played by television newcomer Omari Douglas, who most adamantly refuses to let the threat of HIV keep him from living the fearless and fabulous life he planned.
Roscoe’s story begins under the reign of his conservative Nigerian parents, who vehemently condemn his homosexuality and make plans to send him away to “heal.” With some seed money from his sister and not much of a choice, Roscoe packs a bag, says he’s leaving, and stamps off in the rain to the tune of “Feels Like I’m in Love” by Kelly Marie. The pivotal moment sets the stage for Roscoe’s no-fucks-given attitude that empowers him to push through the difficult years to come.
“He’s fiercely proud and fiercely out, and has the confidence and bravery to express that in this really bold and innovative way,” says Douglas over a Zoom call, noting that Roscoe’s character arc isn’t about finding himself—he already knows exactly who he is—but rather one of finding a balance between being himself and fulfilling his duties as a friend, brother, and son.
Toward the end of Episode 1, Roscoe lays his full personality on the table when he unapologetically arrives late to a job interview at the local queer bar, where he’s asked what he wants to do when he’s older. “You wait,” he replies. “Give me five, six years, I’ll be stinkin’ rich. Every single teacher I’ve had, I want to drive past them in my big shiny car, like, ‘Fuck you.'”
“Roscoe is ambitious and he wants to achieve things and he wants to hit the high life,” confirms Douglas. “He’s going to go out and get it by whatever means necessary, and he does.”
When Roscoe has a run-in with a Member of Parliament, Arthur Garrison (Stephen Fry), he sees his ticket to obtaining status and begins sleeping with him in secret. He grows closer to the MP over time, bailing on the bar job he’s had for several years now and diving headfirst into a private world of wealth and power that even his friends aren’t privy to.
“Roscoe knows that some of what he’s doing is maybe a little bit questionable and he’s not going to share it with the group,” says Douglas, acknowledging that Roscoe is fully aware he doesn’t belong in Garrison’s world. Still, Roscoe needed to let himself get burned before returning to reality—and the core friends who truly care for him.
Thus is the mystery of Roscoe: How can someone who brings such vibrance to every room he enters manage to keep an invisible guard between himself and his friends? And where does his aggressive independence come from? Douglas sees Roscoe’s bravado as his shield, his independence a side-effect of his parents’ intolerance. “To be pushed out of your home by the people who bore you is the greatest kind of rejection, so he’s quite selective,” says Douglas. “You would be selective about the people that you let into your life.”
Roscoe has several friends, ones that he genuinely cherishes, but few understand the extent to which his strained family relationships still weigh on him. The person who got to know Roscoe the most intimately was Gregory (David Carlyle), affectionately known as Gloria, who becomes one of the show’s many casualties of AIDS.
“He trusted Gloria, and he disappeared,” says Douglas, leaving Roscoe even more hurt and shut off to his pain. As it often goes with people who are suffering, it became easier to maintain his strong front than to vulnerably open himself up and risk more judgment or, worse, abandonment.
On the surface, Roscoe’s story never quite comes full circle, but Davies drops just enough breadcrumbs to suggest that, even if it takes time, Roscoe might one day have a relationship with his parents again.
First, there’s Roscoe’s subtle support of his mother from afar. “I think Roscoe still understands his duty as a son and he still wants to repair that,” Douglas says, describing why Roscoe would anonymously leave an envelope of cash at his mother’s door after learning through the grapevine that she was struggling. “It’s his mom, you know, and no one wants to lose that.”
Then, there’s the dramatic, cliff-hanging scene in the final episode when he runs into his father in the AIDS ward of a hospital and is asked for forgiveness. We never hear if Roscoe is willing to give his father a second chance, but according to Douglas, his dad’s apology is certainly a bridge toward mending the relationship—as long as one condition is met.
“Roscoe knew who he was from the beginning and [his parents] wouldn’t let him [be] that, so he’s not going to compromise for the sake of welcoming them back into his life,” says Douglas, explaining that while Roscoe would be open to the idea of reconciliation, he would rather have no contact with his parents than be forced to tone down any part of himself for them.
Roscoe Babatunde is just one piece of Davies’ narrative—one that’s perhaps not given as much weight as other characters—but the themes of Roscoe’s journey lend themselves to the greater picture of It’s a Sin. Much like the 1987 Pet Shop Boys song of the same name, it’s a story of spirited youth just trying to live, despite being told at every turn that their pursuit of happiness is shameful. And along the way, it becomes the story of not only battling an oppressive moral high ground, but battling a deadly illness that only validates the shame instilled in them as children.
“It’s kind of a retrospective on [Davies’] experiences,” says Douglas, describing how It’s a Sin captures the happy moments of being a queer 20-something in the ’80s, in addition to the hard moments. “Back in the ’80s when all of these [seminal works about AIDS] were coming out, I don’t think there was time to sit in the joy.”
Now that time has passed and progress has been made, Davies was able to adopt a tone for It’s a Sin that might have been irreverent at the time. The show features fun pop anthems from the era, steamy sex scenes, and moments of pure ecstasy—whether on the dancefloor or in the company of good friends—that humanize the characters. It’s hard for anyone to watch It’s a Sin and not see at least an element of themselves reflected in Ritchie, or Colin, or Roscoe.
“I’m glad that we can enjoy that stuff because it needs to be seen. We need to see what these people lost,” says Douglas. “People lost youth and innocence and all the things that they should’ve been able to enjoy.”
