One of the depressing things about getting old is that you become less and less likely to believe that the long arc of the universe bends toward justice. Instead, it can seem that rights and protections fluctuate in cycles, with gains repeatedly reversed and things as likely to get worse as to get better. Optimists like to say “two steps forward, one step back” but sometimes it’s really the opposite—two steps back for every one step forward.
Take the case of Jean (Rosy McEwen), a physical education teacher in a British secondary school. It’s 1988 and she’s a lesbian with a lovely girlfriend, Viv (Kerrie Hayes), enjoying the freedom to be out in her free time. Her workplace is something else, however: Jean has to pass for straight or risk losing her job under Section 28, which forbids the “promotion of homosexuality.” Can’t have gay teachers, in other words, because they might be secretly undermining the sanctity of heterosexual marriage or corrupting the innocent minds of schoolchildren or something like that. Vague laws targeting nonconformist individuals with ridiculous speculations that draw on common prejudices—we’ve come so far from Margaret Thatcher’s England, haven’t we? The same goes for everyday sexism, on the television and in person—we’ve totally progressed beyond that, right? As for bullying and sexual harassment in schools—#sarcasm on all points already.
Jean’s struggles to live her life in a society that’s sometimes positively hostile to her existence and more often just doesn’t include her at all will be familiar to many today, and it’s mostly the cultural details (clothing, automobiles, smoking indoors) that remind us this story is taking place 35 years ago. Director Georgia Oakley wisely chooses to give Jean a timeless haircut and personal style, while the other characters sport more period-typed looks—it fits her character and need to conform to expectations for a school teacher, and also makes it easier for the audience to relate her.
Jean’s need to lead a double life to keep her job, which she likes, and which she’s good at, creates conflict within the lesbian community: some who have chosen to be less conforming and more out are impatient with her decision to pass among the straight and gay among the gays. It’s even something of an issue with Viv, who becomes angry when Jean insists they keep the nature of their relationship from her sister (although once you’ve met the sister, you’ll understand why Jean doesn’t trust her).
Leading a double life means Jean must constantly self-police, and must also deal over and over again with other’s people ignorance and prejudice. The stress is wearing Jean down, but she’s managing until a wild card in the person of a new student named Lois (Lucy Halliday) shows up in her school. Lois is targeted by bullies, who use the age-old insult that she’s a lesbian. Then Lois shows up in the lesbian bar frequented by Jean and her friends, which adds a whole new layer of complexity to Jean’s world.
Blue Jean is an assured feature debut by Oakley, who also wrote the screenplay. It can be a bit on the nose at times—Jean teaches a lesson on “fight or flight” to her pupils, which is a pretty good summary of the daily stress she’s under, and Maggie Thatcher seems to be addressing the horrors of homosexuality every time someone turns a radio on—but the acting is great and the period production design by Soraya Gilanni Filjoen and costume design by Kirsty Halliday strongly evokes the period in question. The title Blue Jean was not chosen by accident—blue and green are the dominant colors in many scenes, particularly those in which Jean is embracing her lesbian identity, and a blue palette is featured in her somewhat surreal nightmares. The other meaning of “blue” is also relevant, because who wouldn’t be sad if you live in a world where those in power hate you and even your own family can’t be counted on to have your back? | Sarah Boslaugh
Blue Jean will screen at the Hi-Pointe Theatre on May 9 at 7 pm as part of QFest St. Louis 2023. Single film tickets are $15 for general admission, $12 for Cinema St. Louis members and students with valid current photo IDs. Further information is available from the festival web site.
