Jean (Rosy McEwen) is an attractive 20-something frosty haired gym teacher. She's asked by one of her colleagues at the school to go out for drinks with some of their fellow teachers - might even be a guy or two with an eye out for her. Jean, who has a female partner, demurs not by replying directly, but coming up with a a lame excuse. It's just one of the times that Jean is confronted with telling the truth, but "lies" instead.
England. Late 80s. Margaret Thatcher's conservative Britain to be precise. The nation is in full moral panic mode and the very suspicion that a teacher might be gay is grounds for removal. The law was called Section 28. To Writer-Director Georgia Oakley's credit, BLUE JEAN never becomes a polemic. It simply presents the reality of what people like Jean were going through at the time. Oakley's screenplay unfolds at a natural pace and the audience is given the details of Jean's background at an unhurried pace.
Jean's girlfriend is Viv (Kerrie Hayes) who, by contrast, is very much 'out'. She flaunts her sexuality and makes no apologies. Also complicating things for Jean is a new student, Lois (Lucy Halliday), who happens to hang out in the same local gay bar. Jean's family is little help, even her sister Sasha (Aoife Kennan) who outwardly supports her sibling, but is nonetheless concerned about protecting her young son when she is around.
The performances here all very good, with McEwen embodying her character's ambivalence, while also demonstrating fortitude. It's a tricky balance which Oakley's filmmaking ably abets. Oakley also creates a vivid depiction of the era with details of the LGBTQ community at the time. Songs by New Order, Letta Mbulu and Colourbox and others grace the soundtrack and the screenplay is filled with precise and distinctive terminology. There are not great revelations or epiphanies for Jean, but, Oakley imbues her main character with an inner strength that is palpable.
Section 28 was repealed in 2003.
