In the season of parades and festivals,
the term “Gay Pride” seems to become almost synonymous with “Gay
Community”. But while community is a grand and important thing, it
is useful to remember that at its core Gay Pride is about us as
individuals, about each of us coming to know our own worth as human
beings, and gaining the strength that stems from that knowledge.
These are the sorts of thoughts that come to mind while watching the
film, “Beautiful Thing.”
The movie tells the story of Jamie
(Glen Berry) and Ste (Scott Neal), two high school students from the
low-income, working-class neighborhood of Thamesmead, London. Jamie
lives with Sandra (Linda Henry), his tough and strong-willed mother
whose lack of sentimentality and sometimes-iffy parenting skills
cannot hide the fierce love she feels for her only child. Sandra
works at a pub and dreams of one day becoming manager of her own
establishment. Ste lives next door with his older brother and
alcoholic father, both of whom are far too wiling to leave him with
bruises at the slightest provocation (burnt tea, a few dirt stains on
some shoes, etc.). The tenement in which they all live is cramped
and possessed of paper-thin walls, so everyone there pretty much
knows everyone else’s business.
Jamie and Ste attend the same gym class
– when Jamie actually goes, which is rarely, because of the
taunting he receives. (Unlike Ste, Jamie is neither very athletic
nor particularly well-liked.) Sandra is aware to some degree of
Jamie’s social difficulties at school, but doesn’t know how to
help. She is also aware of what Ste goes through at home, but there
she can help, at least temporarily: On occasions when things become
particularly bad with his father and brother, Sandra has Ste share
Jamie’s room for the night.
And therein lies the rub. A back rub,
to be precise, as one night Jamie applies some lotion to Ste’s
abused back after Ste reluctantly shows him his most recent bruises.
Thankfully, the moment is not treated at all salaciously. Nor is the
physical intimacy which, by the end of the night, follows the
emotional intimacy that has been established between them. What we
see is all appropriately – almost achingly – tender and
emotionally vulnerable, focusing as much on how they each respond to
the abuse Ste has endured as on the romantic and sexual feelings
coming to the fore for both of them. The remainder of the film
focuses on how the two characters deal with their budding
relationship: The excitement and joy of first love, the uncertainty
that it’s felt as strongly by the other party, the frustration of
having to keep it secret, and the fear and anxiety when certain
people find out.
One of the great pleasures of this film
is the way Jamie and Ste’s relationship rings true emotionally, as
a result of Berry’s and Neal’s performances. (Particularly
Berry’s portrayal of Jamie, on whom the film focuses a bit more.)
We see them as two sweet, essentially innocent kids taught by
circumstances to stay closed off from much of the world, but almost
desperate, beneath it all, to open up to each other. It was
gratifying to see how much feeling the actors were able to convey
without dialogue, or in addition to it. (I do not know what portion
of these successful portrayals is due to director Hettie Macdonald,
but it seems likely her able direction was an integral part of the
process.)
Regarding Jonathan Harvey’s writing,
at no point did I find myself thinking, “Oh, that’s not what
someone would do in that situation!” From Jamie shoplifting a gay
magazine so he and Ste can read it together, to their uncertainty
about how to act together at a party, to both of them sneaking away
on the bus to go to The Gloucester (a gay pub), everything they do
feels essentially believable. (Though see below regarding the final
scene.)
The second great pleasure of the film
is Linda Henry’s portrayal of Sandra: Undeniably low-brow, but
intelligent and more caring than she’d probably be comfortable
admitting. And fiercely determined to improve her lot in life
despite, at times, feeling completely out of her depth and at the
mercy of her circumstances. I couldn’t help but like Sandra, and
admire her despite her shortcomings. More importantly, I believed in
Sandra. Henry is so committed in her portrayal that I couldn’t not
believe in her, just as I couldn’t not believe in Jamie and Ste.
Even the most emotionally charged moments, such as Sandra’s
confrontation with Jamie after following him to the Gloucester, come
across with the proper emotional resonance: Jamie’s desperate need
not to lose Ste and his despairing certainty that he himself will be
rejected by Sandra; and Sandra’s flailing attempts not to reject
Jamie, despite not knowing how to accept what she has discovered.
The two main supporting characters are
Tony (Ben Daniels) and Leah (Tameka Empson). Tony is Sandra’s
somewhat younger and slightly hippie-ish boyfriend. Though a decent
enough fellow, he is too laid back for his own good, lacking either
the desire to improve his situation or the willingness to do what it
takes. We never learn what he does for a living, but it doesn’t
really matter. Just as he doesn’t really seem to matter to those
around him as much as he probably should. He just doesn’t seem
…alive… enough to be seen against the stark light cast by the
lives of those around him. (None of which should be taken as a
criticism of Daniels’ portrayal, which is sound. Tony is supposed
to be this way, so Sandra’s strength of will shows even more
clearly, in comparison.)
In contrast to Tony, the character of
Leah has far too much personality for her own good. Around Ste and
Jamie’s age, she is self-centered and abrasive, and obsessed with
the life and music of Mama Cass to the point of caricature. (As well
as being more than a little slutty, according to most of the other
characters.) Leah might be the type of person who’s fun to hang
out with once every week or two, but in the close quarters of the
tenement she’s first and foremost a pain to just about everyone.
She does, however, lend the movie some of its comedic moments, as
well as its excuse to make good use of The Mamas & The Papas’
music. And that makes up for a lot. (As does Empson’s portrayal,
which does manage to make Leah rather engaging – as long as I don’t
have to live near her.)
Despite what I said above about the
believability with which Jamie & Ste’s story is presented, one
can reasonably debate the believability – or at least the
practicality – of what they do in the final scene. (Without giving
away the details, I’ll merely say that it’s not a tragic ending,
and that taking the simple, understated action they do would require
more courage than many of us had, at that age.) But for me, it
works. It is a not-unreasonable culmination of what the two have
gone through individually, and of what they have learned together:
That the really good things are worth fighting for. That it’s a
waste of time worrying about what other people think. And that with
a little effort, life (like this movie) can indeed be a beautiful
thing.