Basic premise: 11-year-old boy trades in boxing mitts for ballet shoes, much to the chagrin (that was for you, Stephenie Meyer) of his father and older brother who work in the local coal mine. Aside from the struggle of his family to accept, or even attempt to understand, Billy's unorthodox pastime is the inhospitable backdrop of their socioeconomic status. His father and brother, as members of the union, have been on strike for God knows how many months, and finances are wearing thin. While struggling to fill the roles of protectors and providers, the last thing they are prepared to indulge is the foppish whim of an 11-year-old boy.
What I remember from the first viewing: (1) Billy's Angry Dance. I believe I might have even been a bit frightened by the unbridled passion in his high kicks--perhaps because we were relatively the same age when I first saw the movie, and I just couldn't imagine myself (or any guy my age, for that matter) dancing with such abandon against a brick wall like that. Upon the second viewing, however, I was grinning like a bloody idiot the whole time. It's amazing the way your perspective on youth can change when you no longer are a youth.
(2) The Tension. As is true of any family that must work for a living, there are many different currents that cut across and parallel one's sense of self-worth and accomplishment. I remembered the dejection that accompanied the father's unemployment and the raw idealism that fueled the brother's. I didn't remember how potently the aging grandmother figured into Billy's life, but sure enough, while his father and brother are away protesting the mine, Billy is perfecting the routine of feeding his grandmother breakfast in bed. And refreshingly, I remember the complete non-tension of discovering that his best friend is gay. Though it strikes the father and brother a bit off balance, it is nothing to Billy to teach his friend the basics of ballet while he wears a tutu.
(3) The Riot Scene. This scene was memorable for two reasons--the first, that despite his somewhat abrasive demeanor, Billy's brother is actually quite adorable, even when he's running from the law (for my dissection of the double standard, click here); the second (which was originally the entire reason for this post), that I have been vindicated in my love for The Clash! When I first watched Billy's brother duck through private homes and clotheslines to escape the police after a protest gone wrong, I remembered feeling that the scene was inherently terrifying. Its only saving grace was the rather remarkable background music which had an appropriately edgy, but comforting, swagger to it. When the time came for the second viewing of this scene, I was practically shushing everyone in the vicinity for fear I would miss a single note of this incredible song, whatever it was. Almost on cue with the music came a rush of validation, for the song was none other than:
LONDON CALLING!
I can now admit that, despite my frequent professions that I love The Clash (which is true), I have felt a pervading undercurrent of self-doubt: "I'm a fraud, I don't actually like their music, they're too scrappy for a clean-cut person like me, anyway," blah blah blah. No longer an issue! I was first introduced to The Clash when I was 16 years old by an older brother figure, and I have often wondered if it was out of some allegiance to this relationship that I held on to the high. But as I was pinned to my seat once again by the compelling scene, I was relieved to note that even at 12 years old, I knew London was drowning and I, I lived by the river!
In conclusion, this is a fantastic, heartbreaking movie with a spot-on soundtrack, one to watch when you're older than Billy; otherwise, you might just feel the need to kick up your own heels against a brick wall. But that might not be a bad idea. There's a certain poetry to watching this movie first as a child, then as an adult.
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