Bully for Billy

The dance critic for the New York Times, Alastair Macaulay, gave Billy Elliott a rave review which was, naturally, skewed toward that particular art form. Combined with the drama critic Ben Brantley’s words-of-wisdom I pretty much expected to be able to climb on their particular bandwagon, big time. But, although I am unable to tap my half vast reservoir of superlatives like I had hoped, the show is actually very, very good. Maybe I should even triple the verys. There were moments of theatrical transcendence but overall I was not blown away, which is always a disappointment when one falls for the hype and just itching to be able to say it’s the most fabulous musical on earth. The show is certainly going for it by throwing around all the Broadway glitz possible, sparing no expense, but actually I think that is one of the problems. I became very aware of how long the first act is and when the Margaret Thatcher puppets came out I threw in the towel about controlling my individual squirm factor. A judicious pair of scissors would have been most welcome and I could even tell them where to whack. Maybe it’s a good thing nobody ever listens to me.

The concept of Billy Elliott really shouldn’t work. A boy in a mining town during the historical and ill-fated British miners’ strike in the mid-80’s who aspires to be a ballet dancer? Are you kiddin’ me? I remember the movie, on which it is based, being good even though at the time I didn’t buy the premise. But, last night, the magic of live theater put a lump in my throat two or three times and made sitting through yet another scene depicting the grime, hardship and unfairness of the strike almost palatable. Although I didn’t end up shaking a figurative fist at the injustice of it all and with the gargoyle presence of Ms. Thatcher always looming backstage (and sometimes on-stage…see the puppets comment above) I certainly sympathized with our perfect, hardworking miners, but as an audience member I got it after the first illustrative stride-around stomp-around scenes. It did not need to be driven home a second time; or third; or…

By contrast, the story of Billy is small potatoes although certainly a lot prettier. And, baby, a whole lot snazzier with not only some dazzling ballet; but tap, modern, acrobatic, hip-hop and just some great finger snappin’ group movement in general. This includes the 15 or 16 minors, both boys and girls, who warmed the cockles of me heart with their precision and emotive power. Topping the list, as it should be, is the boy who plays Billy. In this case it was an incredible Kiril Kulish, who convincingly played his 11-year-old character’s transformation from an awkward street-kid with no apparent talent of any kind living in abject poverty with his Dad, Brother, Grandmother and the memory of his late mother (who, what else, comes to visit occasionally…the book writers are shameless), to an amazingly sure-footed hoofer confidently at home even with the required lines and grace required by ballet. There are two other boys who share this role and it’s little wonder this is done because Billy has to dance his butt off and is rarely off stage.

It’s also and incentive to maybe see the show again, that is, to see another boy, another Billy, transcend. Despite my own personal caveats Billy Elliott is a big hit and there had better be at least a dozen young actors in the pipeline to play this role because, as they grow and change (and age), there will be a need for numerous wunderkinder to fill Billy’s shoes. I just wonder if it’s in their contracts that at the first sign of a growth spurt or a cracking voice, they’re out the door. A sad thought but, like the failed miner’s strike, inevitable.
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Update August 29, 2009: Sure enough, it was announced today that Kiril Kulish (the boy I saw play Billy) will be leaving the show. Puberty can be a bitch in so many ways.