Blue jeans review

In living memory, there are few laws more shameful than Section 28. Introduced by Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative government, it essentially enshrined homophobia into law, preventing teachers from “promoting homosexuality” in schools and fostering a climate of distrust and fear that lasted for a long time. to the current generation (the law was not repealed until 2003 in England and Wales). It is in this setting that first-time writer-director Georgia Oakley finds a personal perspective on the political struggle, telling the story of Jean (Rosy McEwen, in her first lead role), a woman caught in the spotlight of history. .

The world it depicts is one that most filmmakers or young actors have never experienced firsthand; Section 28 was introduced in 1988, the year Oakley was born. Yet he feels torn right now, leaning heavily on her rules about him, for better and occasionally for worse. Victor Seguin’s cinematography is beautifully gritty and subdued, an aesthetic appropriate to the era enhanced by Kirsty Halliday’s elegant wardrobe. Oakley isn’t afraid to make it a “problem” film, either, something this decade has always cherished: TV and radio provide seemingly 24-hour coverage of gay “debate,” while billboards Scary Messages echo loudly through Jean’s neighborhood. like like “Are your children learning moral values?”

While the climate of conservatism it evokes isn’t always subtle, the film aims to be more than just a message. This is a delicate and twisted character study, more concerned with conjuring an empathic portrait of a life lived in secret and all the tensions that come with it. There’s a mess that comes with staying at least partially in the closet: What do you do when there are no obvious right answers, no mentors to turn to, no advance playbooks?

It’s newcomer McEwen, in the title role, who brings this inner struggle to life with sensitivity. On screen, in almost every scene, he balances the vulnerability of his stress with a worldly poise and calm. For a first lead role, he makes an extraordinarily compelling screen presence; the film shares its title with a 1984 David Bowie song, and with his cropped blond hair and pastel-colored wardrobe, there’s a hint of Bowie’s new-age romantic androgyny in his jeans. Oakley is also keen to showcase queer life rich and lived, from the simple exhilaration of a smoky, booze-filled gay pub, bonded by the safety and welcome of that community, to the daily hustle and bustle of the wider tents. community, is automatically wary of difference.

There is a real sadness at the heart of this film, a sentiment reinforced by a graceful and lush score by Chris Roe, which elevates the melodrama but ends on a note that celebrates the subculture in which it has been forged. If there is one message to be drawn from the chaos it represents, it is that even in the face of state-sponsored bigotry, there is room for joy and hope.