A Sapphic Musical Journey Through AppleTV's 'Manhunt'
A playlist for being knee-deep in the passenger seat (of the Lincoln Administration)
It is March 15, 2024. AppleTV has just released the first two episodes of Manhunt, its limited series from Monica Beletsky about the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, starring Tobias Menzies as Secretary of War Edwin Stanton. I’m plowing through both episodes. After a strong pilot, the titular manhunt is in full swing as Stanton searches the country for John Wilkes Booth, who narrowly escaped capture at Ford’s Theatre. In the meantime, the fate of reconstruction—and quite possibly American democracy—hangs in the balance. In a strategic effort to secure public support for Lincoln’s post-war plans, Stanton authorizes a whistle-stop tour, in which Lincoln’s embalmed corpse will take a road trip across the country to bring the American people the firsthand experience of mourning their president. As the tour departs, Stanton steps on the carriage to say one last tearful goodbye to his faithful, late friend, who as of late has been occupying all of his dreams. Hold on, I say to myself. Is he… knee-deep in the passenger seat?
Two things are true:
We are in a golden age of sapphic pop (and alt-pop, and folk-pop, and indie-pop, and all their various offshoots)—that is, music made by and for queer women.
I cannot stop watching Manhunt.
I’ll concede that on its face, these two crucial bits of the 2024 pop culture sphere might seem unrelated. But Manhunt has everything—the grandeur of Chappell Roan. The angst of girl in red or boygenius. The hubris and regret of Mitski.
In most cases, I’m not even a fan of setting American history to a contemporary soundtrack. I have borne the scars of Hamilton. We as a country cannot go back. But there is something about Manhunt that lends itself to the sapphic pop—the tragedy, the joy, the earnestness, the camp. And oh, the yearning! Manhunt is nominally a show about the hunt for John Wilkes Booth, but really, it’s a show about yearning. And, I’d argue, that means it’s all the more fitting for some of our finest contemporary sad lesbian musings. Maybe it’s the general closeted vibe that Tobias Menzies tends to bring to any period drama. Maybe it’s the way masculinity and pomp work like covers for the caverns of grief and insecurity that otherwise threaten to swallow Manhunt’s two leads whole.
Or maybe it’s that Manhunt is, fundamentally, ridiculous. But maybe it has to be. What else, for a decimated democracy? Patton Oswalt plays a superspy with double allegiances. Hamish Linklater’s several pounds of prosthetics are not even half as jarring as his just-north-of-Uncanny-Valley Abraham Lincoln Voice. At one point, a New York millionaire confidently tells Edwin Stanton that he could “shoot someone in the middle of Wall Street in broad daylight, and nothing would happen.” But we believe him. Because Manhunt isn’t actually a bad show—it’s actually, quite possibly, a pretty good show. Left unattended, it’s a sometimes heavy-handed horror story about the possibility of reconstruction slipping away with each passing moment, and the America left in its wake.
But, it’s not not a gay show, even if it doesn’t mean to be. Edwin Stanton dreams about straight-unless-you-Google-it Lincoln (“Abe” to him) on the regular. Both hero and antagonist are given pet names by their respective presidents—Stanton’s, from Lincoln, is “Mars,” like the god of war (yes, the one who spent centuries as a side piece). John Wilkes Booth is gently tended to by a devoted male sidekick—his own Edwin Stanton, in a sense. A late-series gay revelation shifts the course of the trial to convict Booth’s co-conspirators. Earlier on, a grieving Mary Todd Lincoln resentfully tells Stanton, “You were his war wife.” Nearly every character is somehow wrapped up in a part-friendship, part-something-else dynamic that will haunt them for life. In short, it’s primed for the sapphic alt-pop renaissance.1
Follow along at home!
First, an overture:
For Edwin Stanton: Casual by Chappell Roan
Chappell Roan may seem like a stretch for a series that misses the Bechdel test by a mile and in which absolutely no one, not one single person, even attempts to have sex. But it’s deeper than that: Ms. Roan and Tobias Menzies’s beardless, yearning Edwin Stanton are bonded on a soul level.
Edwin Stanton does, ostensibly, try to be the chill girl, only to find that honestly, he’s not. He is dreaming of “us” (that is, the US) in a year—maybe reconstruction will have come to fruition, just as he envisioned. But more than anything, he hates that he’s let this go on so long.
At the end of the day, Edwin Stanton is knee-deep in a 12-day manhunt for the most famous assassin in American history, and he’s on the brink of what could become a fatal asthma attack—is it casual now?
For Abraham Lincoln: Timefighter by Lucy Dacus
We’re getting historiographical. Lincoln, while ostensibly not the lead of Manhunt, is the ghost that looms over everything Edwin Stanton does, both before and after the assassination. Manhunt is incredibly interested in the question of historical memory, and from even before Lincoln is gone, both he and Stanton are concerned about what that memory will be. Like an early-career Lucy Dacus, Abraham Lincoln in the first episode of Manhunt has fought time (and the Confederacy, and the politicians who sympathize with it)—and lost in a landslide. He may be, as Lucy tells us in this song, just as good as anybody, or just as bad as anybody, but the country will be reckoning with his legacy forever.
For John Wilkes Booth, et al: Caesar on a TV Screen by The Last Dinner Party
If there is one thing you can count on sapphic pop and its adjacent genres to do well, it’s posturing. There is a combined hubris and self-loathing present in this category of music that few others grab onto in all its nuance. So naturally, no exploration of the manhunt for American history’s most hubristic assassin would be complete without the most hubristic of sapphic pop-rock bands. The Last Dinner Party outdoes themselves with “Caesar on a TV Screen,” in a way that truly honors the most narcissistic of deranged historical figures: “And just for a second, I could be one of the greats.”
Episode 1: Pilot
“Sidelines” by Phoebe Bridgers
Edwin Stanton is not afraid of anything—not living on a fault line, which, in a political sense, he very much is. But one thing we come to know about Stanton: he is constantly watching the world from the sidelines. Be it his health (he suffers from severe asthma, exacerbated by his stressful work life), his family tragedies (having lost his first wife and two children), or his political woes (as the emerging Johnson Adminsitration threatens to cast aside his vision for reconstruction), he’s a protagonist constantly being pulled from center stage.
That is, until a deranged assassin takes Abraham Lincoln—his Abraham Lincoln, as he keeps reminding us—now, he has something to prove.2
“Remember My Name” by Mitski
Here’s the deal: I have never made a chronologically-ordered TV series companion playlist in which Mitski didn’t do a lot of heavy lifting. But for good reason! The sad-queer-indie-folk-pop icon understands hubris—and regret—in a way that works for so many occasions.
To kick off the Manhunt playlist, “Remember My Name” perfectly encapsulates what makes John Wilkes Booth such a fascinating historical villain. It’s not that he’s not a true believer in his cause—he is quite genuinely full of hatred and a desire to “take back” the country for white men. But hatred is far from his only motive: he needs someone to remember his name. The undercurrent beneath Booth’s 12 days on the run is a desire to become known, even if that means becoming infamous. Even by day 12, when things are at their bleakest and he is mere hours away from certain death, there is still a part of him that earnestly believes the Confederacy will hail him for what he’s done. He’s not entirely wrong.
Interlude I:
“Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)” by Kate Bush
Gossip Girl had the faceless blog voiced by Kristen Bell. Sex and the City had New York City itself. In Manhunt, the nonsentient element serving as a pseudo-character is Stanton’s asthma, which thwarts him at every turn. It will eventually be what kills him, but for now, it’s lingering behind every corner, threatening to take him out of commission with a narratively poignant loss of breath at any moment. Episode 1 utilizes the first of many such narratively poignant asthma attacks—when Stanton collapses in his chair after seeing Lincoln’s dying body—to mark the transition from tragedy to true crime thriller. If he only could, he’d make a deal with God—and give up anything, even his own health, if it meant finding Lincoln’s killer. Instead, he finds himself pinned to his seat.
Episode 2: Post-Mortem
“Supercut” by Lorde3
“In my head, I play a supercut of us???” Sorry, that literally happens to Edwin Stanton in the first 30 seconds of Manhunt’s second episode. In fact, Lorde’s outro, “In my head, I do everything right” could be Stanton’s tagline for the entire series.
Manhunt has received some criticism for overusing the dream sequence as a plot device. This isn’t entirely unwarranted: three of the series’ mere seven episodes do begin that way. I just happen to find it incredibly endearing. In Episode 1, we learned via flashback that Stanton had actually been invited to join Lincoln at Ford’s Theatre the night he died, but rejected his invitation. Now, to open Episode 2, Stanton—still in shock over Lincoln but already thrown full speed into the hunt for Booth—is plagued by dreams of an alternate reality where he does join Lincoln at the play. Where he ignores the image of his beautiful wife, dressed to the nines for the theatre, and focuses only on Abe. Where, unlike Abe’s real entourage, he notices Booth lurking in the shadows just in time. Where he jumps from his seat, pins Booth up against a wall, looks him deep in the eyes, and… still can’t quite save his dead friend. Suffice to say, in his head, the visions never stop.
“Pink Pony Club” by Chappell Roan
Stick with me on this one. “Pink Pony Club” works best here if you read it as a cautionary tale about the myriad of factors that created John Wilkes Booth, Actor/Assassin. On one hand, there’s the allure of the Confederacy, the desire to “take back” the country. But on the other hand, it’s not just the Confederacy that calls to Booth. He, however distorted, earnestly believes himself the victim of a great injustice, born to a family of famous actors, cursed to be the least known (and no, it can’t possibly be the result of his inferior talent).4 If he can never surpass his actor relatives in acclaim, he will surpass them in notoriety, by any means necessary. On the stage in his heels is where he belongs, and, once denied that, he’ll do anything to get back to it.
And, as we know from the start, an entire system of wealthy, white men, whose interests lie in preserving their own dominance, will be there to protect him. Two episodes from now, a nefarious millionaire will tell Stanton, “Confederate boys didn’t die in vain,” a sentence that will proceed to haunt American politics for the next hundred years. But we’re already getting the sense that he’s right—legions of conspirators are out to ensure they didn’t. Even if it means killing presidents, or throwing democracy into jeopardy, or that ultimately, our political system will forever bear the mark of Jefferson Davis’s America. For Chappell Roan, there was Mama. For Manhunt, there is the American populous, left to spend the next two centuries dealing with the aftermath of Booth’s decision. The flip side of Beletsky’s heavy-handedness is an extreme sense of clarity when it comes to her message: Booth doesn’t live to see the America he has wrought—but Mama, every Saturday, he can hear your Southern drawl a thousand miles (and 160 years) away, saying, “God, what have you done?”
Interlude II:
“II MOST WANTED” by Beyoncé
Unsurprisingly, Beyonce’s gayest song is also the one best fitting for Manhunt, a show made by its two homosocial dynamics. First, of course, there’s Lincoln and Stanton, who Manhunt poses as Washington’s two heroic rogues, partners in crime supporting each other when no one else will. But they’re warped through a fun house mirror in Booth and his dedicated sidekick, David Herold. Herold aids in Booth’s escape, tends to his broken leg, and is willing to stick by him through anything—even death.
And indeed, one could almost call Beyoncé’s brief foray into the sapphic Bonnie and Clyde aesthetic… Manhunt-esque. The declaration, “I don’t know what you’re doing tonight, but I—I’ll be your shotgun rider till the day I die,” not unlike Lincoln’s unsuccessful attempt to invite Stanton as his guest to the theatre. The insistence that the song is about best friends. The echoes of “till the day I, till the day I die, till the day I die,” foreshadowing the fates of both sets of partners. It was another queer country singer, Orville Peck, who said, “cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other”—but it was Monica Beletsky who put that sentiment on screen in the Civil War era White House.
Episode 3: Let the Sheep Flee
“Not Strong Enough” by boygenius
“Spinning out about things that haven’t happened / Breathing in and out”
Sound familiar? Maybe because we’ve literally watched Edwin Stanton live out that exact sentiment for the last three episodes. Like the boys of boygenius, Stanton doesn’t know why he is the way he is—obsessed with his work while suppressing his grief, ignoring his worsening health issues in the process. And like the boys, he’s finding that he’s somehow “always an angel, never a god.”
“American Teenager” by Ethel Cain
Inevitably, Manhunt was going to have to grapple with the same issue as every historical drama: no evil person truly believes themself evil. John Wilkes Booth isn’t hard to make unsympathetic—alternating between hubris, narcissism, and self-pity, he’s already deeply, deeply unsympathetic all on his own. But Beletsky is interested in what might have drawn him into his cause—and especially what might have made Herold such a devoted sidekick—and she finds a piece of the answer in the Civil War’s unimaginable death toll. Like Ethel Cain, Beletsky’s two antagonists are young people disillusioned with a country they’ve watched send thousands of men their age to die for a cause, even if unlike Cain, their anger is misplaced. Everyone is looking for someone to blame, and Booth has already taken out the man he holds responsible.
Episode 4: The Secret Line
Interlude III: “The Family Jewels” by MARINA
Welcome to the family jewels! Aside from being about the ongoing manhunt, this episode is all about family dynamics. Stanton learns his former father-in-law—the grandfather of his sad twink assistant/son—may be involved in the conspiracy to protect Booth. His father-in-law counters by blaming Stanton’s obsession with work for their family woes.
Meanwhile, via flashback, Booth’s older brother—a more successful actor also named Edwin—blames him for associating the family name with the Confederacy, harming Edwin’s superior reputation. Booth in turn blames Edwin for having taken all the attention while John grew up in his shadow, responding, “You will not condemn me to obscurity.” His brother counters, in a very Logan Roy turn, “Your acting condemns you. All you have is rage or self-pity.”
Later, alone with David Herold, Booth attempts to regain his flashy exterior and bury whatever might be lying underneath it. He begins to quote a line from Henry IV, in which he played the smaller role of Richard III: “I have no brother, I am like no brother.” Like MARINA, he’s no stranger to airing out family drama on the stage.
“Portrait of a Dead Girl” by The Last Dinner Party
The lyric that drew me to this song was pretty straightforward: “He looks like one of those film stars / With a blow-up doll, and a BB gun,” something I imagined Stanton might think as he gazed at portraits of Booth. And of course, one line from the chorus, “If anyone could kill me, it probably would be you,” and the outro—a breathy, desperate repetition of “Give me the strength”—both felt very Stanton, whose strength is indeed waning. But after adding the song to this playlist, more parallels started to emerge:
In the sense that this verse is not about a toxic relationship, it might be about the fragility of democracy. If only she (Edwin Stanton) knew that with one wrong move, he (the Johnson Administration) will turn around and tear off her hands.
“Cop Car” by Mitski
Mitski, as I said, is a master of hubris, and I quite literally found this song by looking up “songs about hubris” on Spotify and scrolling through the third playlist that came up in the search results. What a lucky twist of fate that, not unlike Booth in this episode, Mitski laments, “I miss riding horses / I miss running fast / I was meant for running fast” just before launching into possibly her most Booth-esque verse yet: “I am cruel, I am gentle, I can make you laugh / I’ve loved many boys, I’ve loved many girls / I don’t think about the past, it’s always there anyway / And I will never die.”
We start off Manhunt knowing Booth will die before escaping, but that fact looms all the more heavy as his confidence grows. As Episode 5 closes out—with Booth reciting Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” to his comrade by the moonlight, because of course—his fate is closing in. Exits: preemptively blocked.
Interlude IV: “Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl” by Chappell Roan
You know what they say: never trust a vice president who’s been all too passive when it comes to Confederate politicians. This interlude comes to us from the perspective of the man himself: Andrew Johnson, who spends most of Manhunt slowly corroding Lincoln and Stanton’s precious vision for the future of the country. But, in his mind, that just makes him a Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl, who doesn’t need to be weighed down by some hyper mega bummer boy in his ear, reminding him the country is owed justice for the sins of the last hundred years. It’s so much easier to just bend to anyone rich!
Episode 5: A Man of Destiny
“Home Team” by Indigo de Souza
“I won’t do anything, when you leave me for dead / I won’t do anything, like that hole in your goddamn head” !!!!!!!!
Episode 5 sees dark times for Edwin Stanton. John Wilkes Booth is just out of reach when Stanton’s next—and largest—asthma attack takes hold. The home team is losing 20 to 1—unless newly-introduced religious fanatic and Stanton devotee Everton Conger has anything to say about it. Will Stanton survive until the next episode? Please lord/please lord/please lord/please lord.
“Morning Elvis” by Florence + the Machine5
By this point, at least the last three episodes—if not the entire series—have been building toward something that makes for an interesting playlist quandary: Stanton and Booth’s musical narratives are starting to overlap. By Episode 5, Booth is sweating it out on a farm in Virginia, which will become his final stop before death (“The bathroom tiles were cool against my head / I pressed my forehead to the floor and prayed for a trapdoor / I've been here many times before / But I've never made it to Graceland”). Meanwhile, Stanton is collapsing from asthma just a few miles away after repeatedly ignoring his doctor’s orders (“After every tour, I swear I’ll quit / It’s over boys, now this is it / But the call, it always comes”). In other words, they’re approaching a singularity, both living out Florence Welch’s arguably most devastating ballad: “If I make it to the morning / I should've come with a warning.”
Episode 6: Useless
Strap in! This one is a five-songer.
Interlude V: “Cartwheel” by Lucy Dacus
This interlude is coming to us from a character oft-seen, but rarely heard from: David Herold. But it’s not not coming to us from Edwin Stanton. Like Stanton, Herold has found himself left behind. Like Booth, Herold is no one to sympathize with. But his parallels to Stanton in their first and only conversation—in which Herold asks him if he’s ever had a friend who made him feel important, like he could accomplish anything, and Stanton, after another longing stare, responds, “If you had warned us, my friend would still be here”—are off the charts. By Episode 6, the two characters are obsessively reflecting on the idealistic men who seduced them into their causes. And once again, they are lamenting in a way only Lucy Dacus could capture: “I thought back to many years ago / A late night promise on the telephone / We'd build a house of twigs and vines / Grow old together just to pass the time / Now there's only past and present-day / I can't believe a word you say / The future isn't worth its weight in gold / The future is a benevolent black hole.”
“The Deal” by Mitski
We’re two episodes out from Booth’s eerie recitation of “The Raven” by moonlight, and things have only gotten darker for him. At first, I was tempted to go literal here, with The Last Dinner Party’s “Burn Alive.” Booth does, after all, come very close to burning alive. But by the time he finally meets his fate—giving into Herold’s pleas, agreeing to surrender, only to find himself shot in the back of the head, slowly bleeding out—I’d already returned to Mitski. The crux of her gay hubris artistry is the fact that she has seen the other side, and can write just as potently about the downfall. Naturally, given Booth’s affection for Poe, my mind went to “The Deal,” in which Mitski strikes a bargain with a similar raven:
“I want someone to take this soul / I can’t bear to keep it / I’d give it all just to give / And all I will take are the consequences / Will somebody take this soul?”
Booth is as true a believer as any in the Confederate mission. But what he wants, even more so than actually changing the country, is to be remembered as the man who forever changed the country. In the end, however, he finds himself in the dark, suffering nearly the exact same fate as the man he killed, except that he is alone, goes without fanfare, and Stanton buries him in an anonymous grave—no one will take his soul.
“A Burning Hill” by Mitski
Today I will wear my white button-down! I’m tired of wanting more! I think I’m finally worn!
For you have a way of promising things!
And I’ve been a forest fire!! I am a forest fire!!
I am the fire and I am the forest and I am the witness watching it!!
I stand in a valley watching it!!
AND YOU ARE NOT THERE AT ALL!!!
Interlude VI: “Haunted House” by Florence + the Machine
Yes, Booth is dead. No, the Confederacy is not. And neither is Stanton’s grief. He is as haunted by the memory of his dead president as he is by the reality of never having faced Booth himself. Booth is dead, and Stanton never got to confront the man who took his Abe. He is still confined to the sidelines—and he’s not free yet.
“Good Luck, Babe” by Chappell Roan
This one feels pretty straightforward, honestly. Much like a deeply closeted Gen Z lesbian, Edwin Stanton is in denial. He could convict a hundred co-conspirators in the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, shoot another shot, try to stop the ever-looming next asthma attack. He could (and does) say his workaholic dedication to this trial despite his life-threatening health issues is just the way he is—he makes another excuse, another stupid reason. But by the end of Episode 6, even Stanton’s most heroic moments start to feel like futile efforts to outrun his grief and underlying guilt over not having saved Lincoln, even if he never could have to begin with. In other words, he’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling—and he’s going to try.
Trying to launch a “grand conspiracy” trial to bring the Confederacy to some kind of justice in a country built on colonialism and slavery, even as its other leaders are already beginning to falter on reconstruction? Well, good luck, babe!
Episode 7: The Final Act
Strap in! It’s another five-songer.
“i’ll die anyway.” by girl in red
Thank God Manhunt’s final episode loops back around to gay flashbacks. After a lengthy absence, Hamish Linklabraham Lincoln is back (via Stanton’s memory), and much like girl in red in this song, Stanton is thinking back to when life was good, and he was content, but it’s been so many years (and of course, he will die anyway). In a flashback to 1862, Stanton visits Lincoln’s home (on the eve of his son’s death, no less) to formally accept his appointment as Secretary of War. “So you’ve decided to be my Mars?” Lincoln asks in a quiet moment by candlelight. Of course he has—they would find each other in every universe.
“Your Dog” by Soccer Mommy
After the flashback, Episode 7 begins with the trial in full force. Stanton is at his wit’s end with the Johnson Administration and the sympathetic observers who doubt his decision to charge Confederate “President” Jefferson Davis—whom he tells directly, “I know you killed my friend.” Meanwhile, we learn Davis did at least know Booth, well enough that he had a pet name for him—literally, “Pet”—but he still won’t be convicted. Meanwhile, the trial also sees Booth’s co-conspirator, John Surratt, outed by his male bedfellow—to disgusted gasps—who has agreed to serve as a witness for the prosecution. (Yes, a third gay dynamic has hit the Lincoln Assassination trial.) All around, widowed male sidekicks are coming into their own, and like Soccer Mommy, they’re declaring, “I don’t wanna be your fucking dog.”
“Choreomania” by Florence + the Machine
I was mere seconds away from making Phoebe Bridgers’s “Waiting Room” the grand finale of this playlist—closing out Stanton’s time as Secretary of War with the acknowledgment that, though he may be out of the cabinet, given his health, we know it’s probably for the better. Then, in a flash, Stanton was using his last bits of strength to barricade himself into his office, where captions tell us he will remain for another three months, refusing to cede his position to Johnson’s new appointee. Finally, a little hubris for himself. But things aren’t over. For Stanton, as for Florence Welch—something’s coming, so out of breath.
In a show based on actual history, I was still somehow shaken by the twist. And it’s safe to say, so was the America of 1865, especially once the Senate stood behind Stanton and supported him in keeping his office while they impeached Johnson, who would lose reelection. Unfortunately, like Florence, Stanton’s antics may have him right on the verge of dancing himself to death.
“I Know The End” by Phoebe Bridgers
Yes, Manhunt continues to follow Stanton for the next four years, just so that it can circle back to the narratively poignant asthma, ending on Stanton’s actual death in 1869. And poignant it is—Stanton dies in his room, just after hearing he’s been confirmed as the next Supreme Court Justice under President Grant. Yeah, I guess the end is here!
Coda: “This Time Tomorrow” by Brandi Carlile
I won’t lie: this text changed everything for me. Of course Manhunt is Hamilton—of course! The parallels are many, and they’re ripe. But what we come to understand by the final scene is that Stanton was never the Alexander Hamilton of this story: he’s always been the Eliza. And so, like Eliza before him, in his final moments of life, Stanton looks up to the heavens—where Abe has been waiting for him—and declares, “We finish the work now… we have to.” A chorus of surviving characters then eulogizes Stanton and Lincoln as one. Naturally, the final moments of Manhunt deserve a song just as poignant and wrapped up in memory.
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Collage by the author. Special thanks to Lillian for recommending all of the Lucy Dacus, and to Sahmaya for the Eliza Hamilton revelation. Thank you to both for providing the live reactions that became this playlist’s visual aids.
Because I’m taking creative liberties and am not dedicated enough to AppleTV’s Manhunt to queer-police, I’ve expanded the “sapphic pop” definition to include a few adjacent artists whose fanbases are primarily queer, so long as they fit with the general aesthetic.
And, of course, I couldn’t resist the character-flipped foreshadowing of “I'm not afraid of anything at all / Not dying in a fire.”
This song fits so well that I did not Google “Lorde queer?” before writing this. Please no one show me the results.
A Casey Affleck sun, Valter Skarsgård moon, if you will.