mouton
07-08-2004, 06:27 PM
I have a muddy memory. Often times, people will ask if I remember this time or that place and I will draw a complete blank. I react by nodding and playing along with them, pretending I have a recollection of what they’re talking about and privately freaking out over forgetting chunks of my life that might as well have never happened. Then there are other times, when I remember moments so clearly that I can smell the air as if only seconds had passed and I was still there.
I remember the first time I saw Hettie MacDonald‘s Beautiful Thing (1996) very well. I remember what it was like to be in the theatre; the rows of bright orange chairs facing a smaller than usual screen were mostly filled. I remember I was with my first official fag hag (although neither she nor I knew what we would grow into).
I remember how liberating and self-affirming I felt at the time as I was progressing from announcing to people that I was gay to just being gay and myself in every facet of my life. I remember how desperate I was for gay-themed films and how any time a gay film played, it was like an event. Consequently, it didn’t matter as much if the film was any good as long as there was the chance that I might see two guys actually kiss.
This might seem like leftover meatloaf by today’s standards but at the time, I wasn’t even 20 years old. There wasn’t prominent yet arguably sanitized gay exposure in film and television that there is now. So I took what I could get and even if I didn’t like it, I still kinda liked it.
Beautiful Thing’s young British heroes, Jamie & Ste, find themselves growing up in a low-income project. It’s mostly an uncontrollable environment where the pubescent crowd is either ditching class, doing drugs, getting pregnant or being yelled at by the supposed authority figures. The two boys live next door to each other and together, their boxy apartments along with a string of others on this particular floor make up the main setting. It’s basically chaos at reasonable rates. And somehow, amidst this affordable anarchy, Jamie & Ste manage to block out all the noise, slow things down and embrace the love that grows between them.
How could you not fall in love right along with them? Here you have two cute, sensitive, young boys who don’t entirely understand their desires towards other men but recognize that what they feel for each other somehow outweighs all the confusion; that everything is a little bit easier and makes more sense when they hold each others’ hands. And it isn’t like they don’t have bigger fish to filet and garnish in their lives. Jamie has a defiant personality and a domineering mother, which brings on many a nasty and hurtful argument. Their inability to communicate in a healthy fashion only makes it more painful when you do see how important they are to each other. Meanwhile, poor Ste is getting beaten up on a regular basis from both his father and his older brother for no apparent reason other than overcooking dinner a bit. They could each use a little love in their lives to balance everything out.
Their love also balances out the film to some extent. It is not a flawless piece. There are times when the drama gets to be extreme and I’m reminded that this small film is based on a small stage play. There are times when the acting is somewhat off or the British dialect is incomprehensible. As much as the smallness, for lack of a better choice of words, takes away from the film, it also adds a tint of sincerity that makes the relationships in the film authentic and convincing. As Jamie and Ste, Glen Barry and Scott Neal are very natural. They are soft and compassionate with each other. There is a tenderness between them that is easy to identify with. Of the many supporting characters, it is Jamie’s mother, Sandra that steals the attention in every scene. As a character, she is ambitious, determined and crude. Linda Henry plays her very sternly with a semi-permanent scowl which makes her all the more sympathetic when she lets anyone see past that scowl to the scared woman behind it.
There is one scene that gets me every time. Jamie and Ste run wildly through a forest. They hide behind trees, spin each other around and play like the little boys that they still are. The camera glides in and out of the trees and I feel like I’m running right along side of them. The music of the Mama’s and the Papa’s sets the mood - jovial and uninhibited. In the midst of their running free, they stop suddenly and the game changes from innocent to sexual. Jamie and Ste kiss amongst the trees and under the deep night sky. They are alone in the world and nothing else exists in that moment.
I remember watching then, wishing for a moment like that and though I’ve had a few here and there, I still wish for the same thing when I watch this film. Despite every obstacle and all their confusion and apprehension, Jamie and Ste certainly found themselves quite a Beautiful Thing. Cue the warm fuzzy feelings in your tummy.
I remember the first time I saw Hettie MacDonald‘s Beautiful Thing (1996) very well. I remember what it was like to be in the theatre; the rows of bright orange chairs facing a smaller than usual screen were mostly filled. I remember I was with my first official fag hag (although neither she nor I knew what we would grow into).
I remember how liberating and self-affirming I felt at the time as I was progressing from announcing to people that I was gay to just being gay and myself in every facet of my life. I remember how desperate I was for gay-themed films and how any time a gay film played, it was like an event. Consequently, it didn’t matter as much if the film was any good as long as there was the chance that I might see two guys actually kiss.
This might seem like leftover meatloaf by today’s standards but at the time, I wasn’t even 20 years old. There wasn’t prominent yet arguably sanitized gay exposure in film and television that there is now. So I took what I could get and even if I didn’t like it, I still kinda liked it.
Beautiful Thing’s young British heroes, Jamie & Ste, find themselves growing up in a low-income project. It’s mostly an uncontrollable environment where the pubescent crowd is either ditching class, doing drugs, getting pregnant or being yelled at by the supposed authority figures. The two boys live next door to each other and together, their boxy apartments along with a string of others on this particular floor make up the main setting. It’s basically chaos at reasonable rates. And somehow, amidst this affordable anarchy, Jamie & Ste manage to block out all the noise, slow things down and embrace the love that grows between them.
How could you not fall in love right along with them? Here you have two cute, sensitive, young boys who don’t entirely understand their desires towards other men but recognize that what they feel for each other somehow outweighs all the confusion; that everything is a little bit easier and makes more sense when they hold each others’ hands. And it isn’t like they don’t have bigger fish to filet and garnish in their lives. Jamie has a defiant personality and a domineering mother, which brings on many a nasty and hurtful argument. Their inability to communicate in a healthy fashion only makes it more painful when you do see how important they are to each other. Meanwhile, poor Ste is getting beaten up on a regular basis from both his father and his older brother for no apparent reason other than overcooking dinner a bit. They could each use a little love in their lives to balance everything out.
Their love also balances out the film to some extent. It is not a flawless piece. There are times when the drama gets to be extreme and I’m reminded that this small film is based on a small stage play. There are times when the acting is somewhat off or the British dialect is incomprehensible. As much as the smallness, for lack of a better choice of words, takes away from the film, it also adds a tint of sincerity that makes the relationships in the film authentic and convincing. As Jamie and Ste, Glen Barry and Scott Neal are very natural. They are soft and compassionate with each other. There is a tenderness between them that is easy to identify with. Of the many supporting characters, it is Jamie’s mother, Sandra that steals the attention in every scene. As a character, she is ambitious, determined and crude. Linda Henry plays her very sternly with a semi-permanent scowl which makes her all the more sympathetic when she lets anyone see past that scowl to the scared woman behind it.
There is one scene that gets me every time. Jamie and Ste run wildly through a forest. They hide behind trees, spin each other around and play like the little boys that they still are. The camera glides in and out of the trees and I feel like I’m running right along side of them. The music of the Mama’s and the Papa’s sets the mood - jovial and uninhibited. In the midst of their running free, they stop suddenly and the game changes from innocent to sexual. Jamie and Ste kiss amongst the trees and under the deep night sky. They are alone in the world and nothing else exists in that moment.
I remember watching then, wishing for a moment like that and though I’ve had a few here and there, I still wish for the same thing when I watch this film. Despite every obstacle and all their confusion and apprehension, Jamie and Ste certainly found themselves quite a Beautiful Thing. Cue the warm fuzzy feelings in your tummy.