‘Blue Jean’ review: a brutal portrait of Thatcher’s homophobic Britain

NME

When Jean (Rosy McEwen) tells her girlfriend Viv (Kerrie Hayes) that “not everything is political”, she is quickly set straight: “Of course it is.” Jean is a young PE teacher living in Newcastle in the late-1980s as Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative government concocts the homophobic legislation we now call Section 28. Passed in 1988 and not repealed in England and Wales until 2003, it prohibited the “promotion of homosexuality” by local authorities, which effectively meant that teachers like Jean would be taking a risk by even acknowledging that same-sex relationships exist.

Making her feature film debut, writer-director Georgia Oakley captures the gathering storm of anti-gay hostility by showing that Jean can’t escape it. She might not want her life to be “political”, but she can’t ignore homophobic billboards in her neighbourhood or news bulletins tracking the legislation’s progress. An excerpt from Thatcher’s infamous speech at the 1987 Conservative Party conference, where she laments the fact that “children who need to be taught to respect traditional moral values are being taught that they have an inalienable right to be gay”, remains chilling.

Oakley also has a keen ear for kitsch relics of the era: Slim Fast and Cilla Black’s Blind Date are mentioned early on, adding levity to a story that will soon become tragic. Jean is determined to keep her work and home lives separate because she is terrified of how her colleagues might react if they find out she’s gay. As Section 28 gains in momentum, this makes her increasingly tense and isolated. She scolds Viv for calling her at school and bats away offers to join her colleagues in the pub. However, when a talented newbie from the school netball team, 15-year-old Lois (Lucy Halliday), turns up at Jean’s local gay bar, her clenched composure begins to crumble. Fearing the girl will “out” her at school, Jean betrays Lois in a selfish, cowardly but all too understandable way.

​​Oakley’s script never hits a false note as it shows the casual homophobia Jean faces from co-workers, family members and even a stony-faced stranger in the chip shop. In her first-ever lead role, McEwen is riveting as a fundamentally decent and kind woman who is consumed and made cruel by her own internalised homophobia. Viv, who has fully embraced her own sexuality and understands the difficulties it will bring her in Thatcher’s Britain, tells Jean tenderly at one point: “You’re not ready.”

It’s a powerful and poignant film that is no mere period piece. By the end, it’s impossible not to draw parallels between swelling anti-gay sentiment in the ’80s and the way today’s Tory government is using trans people’s very existence as a pawn in the so-called “culture wars”. For this reason, Blue Jean isn’t just quietly devastating, but also a cautionary tale.

The post ‘Blue Jean’ review: a brutal portrait of Thatcher’s homophobic Britain appeared first on NME.

NME

When Jean (Rosy McEwen) tells her girlfriend Viv (Kerrie Hayes) that “not everything is political”, she is quickly set straight: “Of course it is.” Jean is a young PE teacher living in Newcastle in the late-1980s as Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative government concocts the homophobic legislation we now call Section 28. Passed in 1988 and not repealed in England and Wales until 2003, it prohibited the “promotion of homosexuality” by local authorities, which effectively meant that teachers like Jean would be taking a risk by even acknowledging that same-sex relationships exist.

Making her feature film debut, writer-director Georgia Oakley captures the gathering storm of anti-gay hostility by showing that Jean can’t escape it. She might not want her life to be “political”, but she can’t ignore homophobic billboards in her neighbourhood or news bulletins tracking the legislation’s progress. An excerpt from Thatcher’s infamous speech at the 1987 Conservative Party conference, where she laments the fact that “children who need to be taught to respect traditional moral values are being taught that they have an inalienable right to be gay”, remains chilling.

Oakley also has a keen ear for kitsch relics of the era: Slim Fast and Cilla Black’s Blind Date are mentioned early on, adding levity to a story that will soon become tragic. Jean is determined to keep her work and home lives separate because she is terrified of how her colleagues might react if they find out she’s gay. As Section 28 gains in momentum, this makes her increasingly tense and isolated. She scolds Viv for calling her at school and bats away offers to join her colleagues in the pub. However, when a talented newbie from the school netball team, 15-year-old Lois (Lucy Halliday), turns up at Jean’s local gay bar, her clenched composure begins to crumble. Fearing the girl will “out” her at school, Jean betrays Lois in a selfish, cowardly but all too understandable way.

​​Oakley’s script never hits a false note as it shows the casual homophobia Jean faces from co-workers, family members and even a stony-faced stranger in the chip shop. In her first-ever lead role, McEwen is riveting as a fundamentally decent and kind woman who is consumed and made cruel by her own internalised homophobia. Viv, who has fully embraced her own sexuality and understands the difficulties it will bring her in Thatcher’s Britain, tells Jean tenderly at one point: “You’re not ready.”

It’s a powerful and poignant film that is no mere period piece. By the end, it’s impossible not to draw parallels between swelling anti-gay sentiment in the ’80s and the way today’s Tory government is using trans people’s very existence as a pawn in the so-called “culture wars”. For this reason, Blue Jean isn’t just quietly devastating, but also a cautionary tale.

The post ‘Blue Jean’ review: a brutal portrait of Thatcher’s homophobic Britain appeared first on NME.