When Bella Ramsey and I first met in December, in a Loughborough vegan place a 15-minute drive from her childhood home, The Last of Us was yet to air. The year prior, when Ramsey was first cast as series lead Ellie, some fans had reacted with bile – largely because she didn’t look like the version of the character they were familiar with from the video game the TV series is based on. Over lunch, Ramsey recalled the endless reams of hate she suffered over social media, the calls to quit before she started, and how “everyone” seemed fixated on her “square head.” Doom-scrolling became a masochistic pastime. “You’re looking for a comment that’s more painful than the last one,” she said. “I’d kid myself that I was doing it in jest.”
Set 20 years after the outbreak of a mutated Cordyceps fungus, the show depicts a world torn asunder by infection, the zombie-like infected, and the resultant societal collapse. Ellie is humanity’s last and best hope: while most succumb to a bite within hours or days, she is immune. The series follows her journey across the American landscape with a begrudging smuggler, Joel (Pedro Pascal, otherwise known as the internet’s preeminent daddy), as they seek a team of scientists who could turn her gift into a world-saving vaccine.
Having seen the entire series by that point, I already knew the truth of Ramsey’s performance: she was brilliant, crafting an Ellie both familiar and distinct, a complex, turbulent blend of childlike innocence and white-hot violence. So many scenes were ingrained in my mind, from her fiery introduction to the tears that seemed to manifest from nowhere as one particular mid-season episode hit its climactic tragedy, plus many later moments that would be unfair to spoil.
HBO / Liane Hentscher
A month into 2023, The Last of Us is already being heralded as the show of the year, a ratings hit on both sides of the Atlantic. Lo and behold, the vitriol has changed into ardent and widespread acclaim. “I wish I could say that I was confident enough [already] that it hasn’t affected me in any way, but it has,” Ramsey tells me in early February as we catch up over Zoom, after four episodes of the series have aired. “I’m just glad I could do that for them. And for the show. And for Ellie. I want to do her justice.”
Not that Ramey's success is a surprise. Series creators Craig Mazin and Neil Druckmann were exacting in the casting process, after all, looking at over 100 auditions. “What makes Ellie so fascinating is that she has a lot of the fear and exuberance of a child, but also this strange, sad, heavy, beautiful wisdom and violence,” Mazin says. “What you’re waiting for [in casting] is the person that makes it undeniable, where you’re like, ‘Oh, we’re done. Everything’s okay.’ And that was Bella.”
It’s a remarkable arrival for an actor who, at the time of her casting, was best known for an endearing supporting part in Game of Thrones, playing Lyanna, the steely child leader of House Mormont. Soon after her debut, Ramsey became a fan favourite on Thrones, with The Hollywood Reporter dubbing her the biggest breakout of season six. “[The cast] were very, very kind to me,” she remembers. “The one who really sticks out to me is Liam Cunningham, who played Davos. He really was protective over me.” Interviews at the time suggested that Ramsey, then in her early teens, was barred from watching her own gory show — but that isn’t entirely true. “That was completely misinterpreted,” she says. “I’d seen a lot of [seasons] six, seven and eight by that point. The earlier seasons I’ve seen bits of.”
In summer 2022, Ramsey’s career was elevated to star status when she played the lead in Lena Dunham’s Catherine Called Birdy. As the titular medieval feminist (very before her time), we find Ramsey deploying a now-familiar sharp-tongued wit, calling back to her teen years leading the CBBC series The Worst Witch. Last year also brought another TV lead with her portrayal of Jane Grey in the American period drama Becoming Elizabeth. Her rise would be exceptional enough for an actor who hadn’t had to suffer through a year of online invectives. But Ramsey has endured the worst, and now she is reaping the rewards.
HBO / Liane Hentscher
In person, Ramsey can be deeply shy; when we met in Loughborough, it took 20 or 30 minutes for us to properly settle with our herbal teas. At the same time, she’s unafraid of openness, even if that leads to vulnerability. In January, she revealed in a New York Times profile that she self-defines as non-binary. (Ramsey says she doesn’t mind what pronouns are used for her, and elected to use she/her for this interview.) In December, she told me that she wore a chest binder for “90 per cent” of shooting The Last of Us — “Which probably isn’t healthy, like please bind safely” — allowing her to focus better on set. Pascal, whose sister is trans, was “super supportive,“ says Ramsey. The two of them had many conversations around gender and sexuality. “And they weren’t always deep: they could be funny and humorous, the whole spectrum. We were just very honest and open with each other.”
Ramsey may not define herself as a woman, but that doesn't mean that playing women isn't a gratifying experience, or is something that makes her uncomfortable. “This is what bothers me more than pronouns: being called a ‘young woman’ or a ‘powerful young woman’, ‘young lady,’ but I'm just not [that],” she says. “Catherine Called Birdy, I was in dresses. Young Elizabeth, I was in a corset. And I felt super powerful in that. Playing these more feminine characters is a chance to be something so opposite to myself, and it’s really fun.”
HBO / Liane Hentscher
Identity is a foundational element in The Last Of Us games, not least in Part II. By this second chapter, Ellie is older, more grizzled, and in a relationship with a woman, Dina – something Ramsey hopes they’ll explore in the recently announced second season of the show. “There are a few bits with Ellie on her own, probably, but I like the fact that she also has [Dina] now,” she says. Despite the initial venom, Ramsey’s pre-premiere anxieties have largely made way for excitement. “I mean, season one really was the best year of my life,” she says. “As the episodes come out, [they] bring back such good memories. I am nervous, of course. [But] I’m so excited to get the chance to do that again.”
During a recent visit to LA, Ramsey was allowed to sit in on the writers’ room for season two. “It was so cool to hear them talk about ideas — I’ve watched quite a lot of the gameplay of the second game, just because I’ve been curious. I think [the show] will most likely follow the storyline of the games again,” she says. “I don’t think there’s much need to fill in the gaps.”
Queer characters and their relationships are central to The Last of Us, especially in Part II — from Ellie’s relationship with Dina through to Lev, a trans teenager ostracised from his community in a regressive religious sect. Sadly, we’ve already seen how a certain demographic on the internet continues to be deeply insecure about the mainstreaming of queer storylines. The series’ third episode, broadly celebrated as a TV all-timer, focused on the decades-long relationship of two male survivors, Bill and Frank. (“I love that episode,” Ramsey says. “I was on the verge of tears throughout it, and cried at the bit in the montage when they got married.”) Despite the critical superlatives, the episode was “review bombed” by users of sites like IMDb and Metacritic, drawing thinly veiled derision from elements of the online right.
HBO / Liane Hentscher
This suggests that the gurgling undercurrent of internet hostility will carry through to the second season, assuming those integral queer elements remain intact. Though The Last of Us: Part II is considered, like its predecessor, to be one of the greatest video games ever made, its release of was marred by backlash towards the Lev character arc and the masculine presentation of protagonist-villain Abby. (Gender diversity doesn’t exist in the apocalypse, or something.) It was a vocal minority, but still, one could understand any resulting apprehension. Ramsey, however, is unmoved. “I’m not particularly anxious about it,” she says. “I know people will think what they want to think. But they’re gonna have to get used to it. If you don’t want to watch the show because it has gay storylines, because it has a trans character, that’s on you, and you’re missing out.” After all, she’s no stranger to animosity. “It isn’t gonna make me afraid. I think that comes from a place of defiance.”
If it seems personal, it’s impossible for it not to be. When commenters hand-wring over the existence of queer and trans characters, waving their fists because ‘this is a zombie show, damn it, not Queer as Folk!,’ we know what they really mean. The good thing? All the belligerent man-babies in the world couldn’t stop Ramsey from being part of The Last of Us. “I love it so much. And the people: Craig, Pedro. I want to spend all my time with them.” She describes them as a “safety blanket,” before taking a moment. “I’ve gained two fathers, in a way.”
“Signing on to a series is such a risk, because if I hate this, then I’m potentially tied into it for years, and I didn’t want to be tied into something I didn’t enjoy,” Ramsey says. “But I would honestly do this for years.”