There are few pieces of art more resonant to those who have struggled to fit in than “Make Your Own Kind of Music” by The Mamas and the Papas, where Cass Elliot croons about the importance of marching to the beat of your own drum, regardless of the people who stand in your way. This song was vitally important to me when I was younger, since it reaffirmed that pursuing my passions in a way that made sense to me was always worth my time, even with the dissenting voices that populated everyday life. Many people have similar relationships with the song, which has come to be seen as a resounding anthem of defiance, pride and self-assurance in times when everything else seems uncertain. Needless to say, its use during a climactic moment in Beautiful Thing, the stunning adaptation of the stage play by Jonathan Harvey, adapted by Hettie McDonald in her directorial debut, is one of the most impactful scenes of the 1990s, finding its way into a key sequence in which all of these ideas about being yourself in the face of severe opposition come to the forefront. The film has become a staple of queer cinema, telling the story of two teenagers growing up in a working-class part of the United Kingdom. Jamie is a reserved young man who is close with his mother, who dreams of opening her own pub and, as a result, does not have as much time for him as she did in the past, while Ste is his equally shy classmate who has to endure an abusive brother and father, who make his domestic life a nightmare. The two young men, who live next door to each other, slowly begin to bond after Jamie’s mother notices the abuse he is enduring, and as a result, they eventually discover that they have mutual feelings for one another, which grow into a quiet but beautiful romance between two impressionable young men just starting to see beyond their humdrum lives. A film that is vitally important to members of the LGBTQIA+ community, if for nothing else than for its ability to tell a poignant and moving story at a time when it was still difficult, Beautiful Thing is a charming and compelling film that may be overly conventional, but has enough heart and soul to compensate for many of its shortcomings.

It is always quite easy to tell when a coming-of-age film is based around the writer’s own personal experiences, or if it is just trying to pander to what has proven to be a very easy genre, especially for directors making their debut, since much less work needs to go into a story about young people navigating hostile circumstances than other subjects. While it isn’t explicitly autobiographical, Harvey certainly drew on his own life to a considerable extent, crafting a film that springs from his memories as a young gay man who faced many challenges when discovering his sexuality. He filters many of these ideas into Beautiful Thing, which has a very simple premise: two young men undergo a voyage of self-discovery, helping each other along as they both unearth deeper truths about the world that surrounds them while also uncovering previously unspoken aspects of their own identity. This alone offers us a relatively strong set of insights into the themes that underpin this film, and through working closely with Harvey’s screenplay (as he adapted his own writing), McDonald makes some extraordinary statements of her own, mainly keeping the subject matter as close to the source as possible, while also focusing on additional elements that may not be foregrounded, but certainly play a part. Every queer person has their own unique story about how they discovered their identity, but there is a special joy in finding someone who shares similar experiences, so the story of a pair of neighbours discovering that they have feelings for one another, and using this as not only the foundation for a beautiful story of queer discovery, but also a potent statement on social conventions, economic status and culture, makes Beautiful Thing a far more layered work than we would expect at a glance. Whether or not the filmmakers were inspired by artists like Mike Leigh and Ken Loach (who certainly do linger as spectres, even if unintentionally), we can see a similar approach being taken here, where a simple premise can branch off into several different themes, each one rich and evocative and positively brimming with a unique charm that keeps the audience thoroughly invested.

Some films are destined to follow a more conventional path when looking at specific stories, and Beautiful Thing is most certainly not exempt from veering towards cliches on occasion. A simple coming-of-age story about the romance between two boys growing up in difficult circumstances is going to inevitably resort to certain tonal elements that will be familiar to anyone who has seen the particular blend of gentle comedy and soft-hearted drama, which is a common formula but one that has been tried and tested multiple times, frequently being far more engaging than we would expect. There is always going to be a significant amount of sentimentality in these films, and the director is not someone who seems to be seeking the opportunity to redefine the genre. Rather than trying to present a story that is unique in how it approaches common themes, McDonald chooses instead to lean into these elements, being entirely aware that what she is doing may be simple, but is undeniably effective. Those who seek out this film know exactly what to expect, so there was no need to attract viewers who weren’t already partially on board with these ideas. Something that makes Beautiful Thing so admirable is that it doesn’t hide its aims, presenting itself exactly as it is, and therefore allowing audiences to choose whether they want to undergo the journey with these characters. It’s a film that feels genuinely warm, a safe space where those who feel like outsiders (not even being restricted to the queer community – anyone who has felt exiled from society based on who they are or their interests will find solace here) can gain a sense of comfort and recognition, since there’s something so wonderfully warm about this film, which does as much as it can to be a heartfelt embrace in every possible way. This does mean that some of the moments do tend towards the overwrought, since it would be difficult to make a film that intentionally tugs on the heartstrings without being slightly heavy-handed and overly sincere. However, it does avoid being unnecessarily saccharine when it’s not required, leading to a film that knows exactly how to draw our attention without needing to force us to see the message at the core of the film. 

This film was very much conceived as a smaller, more independent feature (originally targeting television before being seen as a potential hit, which led it to being placed in theatres), and as a result, we don’t have too many recognisable actors, at least not at the time in which the film was made. The two leads are played by newcomers Glenn Berry and Scott Neal, neither of whom was particularly well-known, having done bit parts on a few television shows, none of which seemed to elevate them beyond reliable supporting players. This changed with Beautiful Thing, which became a big moment for both actors as they were playing the central roles in a film about two boys falling madly in love. These are not flawless performances, and we can certainly see the seams when these actors are on screen – but it’s easily concealed by their earnestness, each moment feeling like a heartfelt expression of sincere affection from a pair of actors who worked extremely hard to forge a genuine connection, their chemistry being palpable. The more traditional acting is done by the supporting cast, which has slightly more recognisable faces in the roles, and who add their own nuances to an already very compelling film. At the heart of the film is Linda Henry as Sandra, a woman who is trying to hold everything together not only for her sake, but also that of her son, who she knows has been struggling with his identity, although she doesn’t understand the precise crisis he is undergoing until one of the key moments late in the film. It’s difficult to play a mother reckoning with her son’s sexuality, where she struggles to understand it, but never shows any signs of overt bigotry, instead being of a different generation where she may not entirely comprehend what everything means, or agree with it all, but most certainly does not let her personal views get in the way of the love she has for her son. Temeka Empson steals every scene she is in as the best friend who quietly helps both boys reveal themselves to the outside world, and Ben Daniels turns in a surprisingly moving performance as Sandra’s beau, who would have been a one-dimensional archetype had Daniels not put in an abundance of effort into playing the part. It’s a very strong cast, which anchors the film and gives it a unique identity that carries us through the story.

Beautiful Thing is by no means a revolutionary film. Even in its capacity as a queer coming-of-age story made in a time when homosexuality was much more controversial than it is today, it follows clear conventions and never leaps out at the viewer in terms of trying anything particularly ambitious. However, this neither distracts from the beautiful nature of its story, nor the complex emotions that it is actively seeking to explore, just through more obvious means, which gives the film a sense of accessibility and candour, rather than needing to attempt to reinvent a genre that was still taking shape at the time. There’s nothing contained in this film that we haven’t seen before – but it doesn’t matter, since sometimes familiarity is more impactful than innovation, especially when looking at a subject as challenging as queer desire and the challenges of existing outside the norm, particularly in a community where simply having different perspectives on life, let alone an entirely varying personality, is enough to push everyone away from you. Beautiful Thing is a film about tolerance, acceptance (both from others and within yourself) and the beauty of allowing yourself to surrender to who you are, following your heart and realising your desires, regardless of the obstacles that stand in your way. It is occasionally navel-gazing and can sometimes be quite cliched, but it means very little when there is something much deeper flowing through this film, a pulsating joy and honesty that feels honest, refreshing and deeply moving, even at its most limited. It’s a striking, compelling and moving film with a strong vision, a keen self-awareness and a tendency to tug on the heartstrings, which is more than enough to make it a vitally important work of queer cinema, and a film that is genuinely very moving, even at its most conventional.