| Review: Billy Elliot | |
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Billy Elliot is the biggest damn thing in world film right now. It's winning all the awards, it's getting all the buzz, and everybody is standing in line to see the adorable kid make good. So I suppose I couldn't ignore it entirely. I admit that I had my doubts from the start. After Bootmen, Girlfight, and The Full Monty, I didn't think we needed another movie about working class folks following their dreams and succeeding against all odds. There is only so much you can do with a formula.
But the reviews are great. Read about how "joyous" and "irresistible" this film is, and you'll think that maybe it's worth seeing.
Don't believe the hype. It's worse than I had imagined. A lot worse.
Let me get the summary out of the way first: Billy Elliot (Jamie Bell) is a cute freckled kid growing up in a mining town in the North of England during the mid-eighties. There's a strike going on, and his father and brother are busy throwing eggs and rocks at cops and scabs. Billy's mom is dead, and his grandmother is crazy (funny-crazy, not disturbing-crazy, mind you.)
Billy's dad (Gary Lewis) sends his lad boxing, but soon enough the boy gets interested in the ballet lessons going on in the same gym. Two scenes later, he trades his gloves for a tutu and steals ballet books from the library bus. Of course his dad mustn't find out about it because English miners are famous for their homophobia and distaste for the fine arts. There's conflict ahead, but Billy's teacher (Julie Walters) thinks he might be good enough to try out for the Royal Ballet School. Can Billy overcome the vicissitudes of his dire situation and become a professional dancer? You betcha.
Karyn Kusama's Girlfight recently showed that good things can spring from that tired formula. What makes Billy Elliot such unadulterated schlock is not the well-worn story, but the lame execution, the flat characterizations, and the obvious push-button direction.
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