The Legend of Billie Jean's Heartfelt Brilliance: A Retrospective

I found this gem that can be watched for free on the YouTubes: The Legend of Billie Jean

Now, if you haven't watched this movie recently, or heaven forbid you never heard of this movie, run, don't walk, and WATCH IT RIGHT NOW.

This movie has aged incredibly well. In the day, I don't think certain people took it seriously. But if you were a traumatized young woman, and there were a lot more of us than perhaps people realize - Billie Jean was like a bolt of lightning. She shone like a gilded arrow soaring straight into the heart of the patriarchy. And we loved her for it.

The first five minutes of the movie are like a cold water bath in lost memory: the skinny clothes, the easy acceptance of poverty, the sweat, the feel of the wind in your hair on the back of a speeding open two-wheeled vehicle. I'd forgotten none of us wore bras. I'd forgotten we used to run around half-naked because there was no such thing as central air-conditioning. I'd forgotten how much of life we spent outside. (Would you have stayed inside those brown-paneled, dimly-lit, cigarette-smoke-filled, claustrophobic rooms? Me neither.) I also forgot just how inundated we were with sexual harassment that crossed physical boundaries, and how little equipped we were as young women and girls to deal with it. But it's there, right there, in all its obtuse ugliness.

This movie was one of the most realistic depictions of what life was like for people like me who grew up in the South in the 1970s in cinema - right up there with Virgin Suicides. Some people missed that. I read somewhere that "girls wouldn't have cut their hair like that just to be like her. That's unrealistic and made the movie seem [more trite etc etc]." Of course this was written by a male. And tell that to the thousands of people who watched the movie and then went straight into their bathrooms and cut off their own locks. Like I did. I hadn't had short hair for nearly a decade at that point, but something about BJ's shorn head called out to my recently bereaved soul: I had given a baby up for adoption, and almost no one knew how much I still grieved, nearly two years after the fact. Cutting my hair defiantly in the mirror did lead me to a beautician's chair to clean up the mess I'd made but the gesture meant something. Not for nothing did people in past centuries shave their heads when something awful happened. There's something purifying about this act, a ritual casting out of inner demons, a denial to the world that "everything's all right."

Sometimes everything is absolutely not all right, and this is one way to get people to pay attention and look a bit closer. Sometimes it's the only way to signal things are not all right. Sometimes we don't have words. Sometimes we just feel compelled to do something physically to ourselves, and we may not even know why, but it's a call we absolutely must answer. It's more than a "new look;" we're ready to step into a new identity, and take on the world.

Brava, lady. You go.

A reviewer took issue with Billie Jean's response to the 14-year old Putter's beginning of her period. The writer clearly completely misunderstood Billie Jean's advice to "lie down and take it easy" as "fear"?! Nothing of the kind. Unlike many depictions of this event in cinema both before and since that reflects the negativity about it more common in the real world, Billie Jean celebrated Putter's getting her period. "That's wonderful!" she crowed, and promptly took Putter to the dock for a ceremonial (and practical) bath, wrapping her tenderly in a big towel. When she said, "Lie down and take it easy," it was a way of saying, "Job well done! You've earned some well-deserved rest after that crazy thing we all just went through that you handled amazingly well." There was not a trace of fear in any of their responses. To think otherwise shows how little that reviewer was paying attention.

Paying attention is exactly what Billie Jean was doing. The things that happened to her and to her brother caused her to stop, pause, and consider carefully a most human and reasonable response. She shrugged off the violence that had been done to her own person (and god did that feel familiar); she just wanted the people who were responsible for wrecking her brother's scooter to pay for the repairs. It was that simple. She didn't ask them for respect, or admission of guilt. She just wanted her brother to have his scooter back in working order. But in so doing, she forced people to look at themselves and consider their actions. To recognize they had done wrong. And unfortunately, when some people do that, they lash out at the messenger: in this case, Billie Jean and her friends who supported her.

Sound familiar?

Some people have learned nothing in the nearly 40 (!) years since this movie was released. That damn film was ahead of its time; its themes of social justice, anarchic movements, and anti-capitalism seemed pragmatic and real at the time. After all, "Fair is fair!" And the fuckers eventually got what was coming to them. It's almost eerie how the youth as depicted in this movie instantly got the message that Billie Jean was sending. Surely these were lessons the world was learning. Right? Right?! ... Then again the whole damn 80s were a tease that things would be better and life was going to make more sense in the coming years. But not all of us were evolving. Not everyone wanted fairness and freedom and happiness. We underestimated the sheer tenacity and meanness of the patriarchy, unfortunately.

At the end of the movie, Billie Jean and her brother are taking off for long-talked-of Vermont. Christian Slater's character notices a red snowmobile that quite obviously reminds him of his lost Honda Elite, and he stops to admire it, proving that in spite of their troubles, his interest in fast and shiny things hasn't been destroyed. Billie Jean has her eyes on the road. She seems to hope things are going to be all right, but there's a wariness, a hard-won wisdom that she wears like a veil. She's beautiful and strong and represents all things good. But she's alone, except for a younger person she'll have to watch over and keep out of trouble. She's every single-mother and older-sister out there. One wonders where Lloyd is, what their parting was like. One hopes Putter and Ophelia are okay. But we don't know. All we can do is hope.

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. (attributed to Jean-Baptiste Alphonse 1808–1890 French novelist and editor)

References:
Remembering Legend of Billie Jean: The First Great Female Superhero Movie
28 Things We Learned from the Legend of Billie Jean Commentary
44 Facts About the Movie The Legend of Billie Jean
Cult Classic Legend of Billie Jean Still Relevant Today
Wikipedia entry "The Legend of Billie Jean"