Posted: 02/14/2000

Boys Don’t Cry

(1999)

by Doug White

First-time director Kimberly Peirce effectively molds the journalistic record of a hate crime into a powerful contemporary tragedy.

Memorializing the intense, brief life of Brandon Teena (1972-1993), Boys Don’t Cry oftencompresses the events of its story, using time-lapse photography and other techniques. As opening credits roll, waifish Teena Brandon becomes the boyishly handsome Brandon Teena (Hillary Swank in both roles), a successful roller-rink Lothario who very soon is on the run from an enraged mob. Though at first somewhat lighthearted, the threat of violence lingers throughout the film, steadily turning fatalistic.

The film’s central story begins to unfold after a road trip with fast friends brings Brandon awake in an unfamiliar house many miles from his hometown. Near the end of the film, having been horribly violated, Brandon wakes up at this same house in Falls City to experience a love of surprising generosity. Just as a personal awakening seems possible, however, time runs out. Boys Don’t Cry tells a tragic story of how Brandon’s fragile chance at a brave new beginning is abruptly and violently ended.

Accepted as one of the guys, his dream coming true, Brandon hangs around Falls City with his new pals, embellishing his identity with wishful lies, enduring local rites of passage, and tenderly romancing the bleary, doe-eyed Lana (Chloë Sevigny, more captivating than usual). Brandon passes so well in the Falls City group that, for a time, even the volatile and obsessed John (Peter Sarsgaard, very good in this role) grudgingly accepts Brandon as a successful rival for Lana’s affection.

Director Kimberly Peirce insightfully depicts some of the deeper undercurrents related to Brandon’s passing. Most impressively, when Lana’s mother (Jeanetta Arnette) flirtatiously examines Brandon’s face up close during a party, Peirce cuts to a close-up of John, fondly smiling his approval. The emotional subtleties of this juxtaposition resonate as a complex clue to the scapegoating hysteria that later erupts when Brandon is revealed as Teena.

Brandon’s passionate romance with Lana is the ultimate measure of his success in passing; and the shifts in this relationship (from mutual fantasy and denial to recognition) are an essential achievement of the film in telling the story as a compelling tragedy. Hillary Swank and Chloë Sevigny, both generally excellent in their roles, create such believable chemistry between the characters that the stakes are very high when the different conflicts intervene.

Peirce brilliantly succeeds in staging evocative encounters at each phase of this key relationship. Foremost among these is a beautiful working-class pastiche of the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet: bathed in harsh and otherworldly florescent light, Lana stands at a second-story factory window, dreamily smoking in a hygienic cap, as Brandon catches her attention outside from below with the click of a self-developing camera.

All is prepared so that, when Brandon blindly walks into a room of angry accusers, we see the great danger of his self-deception, without which he probably could not have pursued his involvement with Lana. Brandon’s double-bind is terribly apparent as we witness his fear and humiliation in having an unwanted sexual identity brutally forced on him, first by rapists and then by bigoted police officers. During this part of Boys Don’t Cry, the filmmakers disorient us in such a way that we are strongly affected by this double assault.

In response to the violence, Brandon burns his collection of personal photos, symbolically marking his disillusionment. It is difficult to decide why Brandon stays in Falls City knowing that he is being hunted by a pair that is clearly capable of murder. All we see is that he returns to the place where he and Lana made their most courageous connection—against all odds and obstacles.

Boys Don’t Cry is full of talented artistry in respectful service to its story. The filmmakers consistently craft dramatic solutions that raise important and challenging questions, encouraging the viewer to remain thoughtfully engaged after the lights come up.

Doug White is a writer and filmmaker who lives in southern California.

Got a problem? E-mail us at filmmonthly@gmail.com