Much like its protagonist Billy Fisher, whose incessant daydreaming and over-active fantasy life earned his nickname, Billy Liar faces a long uphill climb if it ever wants to escape its present obscurity. Released by the Criterion Collection back in 2001 after a successful run on the revival circuit sponsored by Rialto Pictures, the disc sadly went out of print in 2010 after Criterion's distribution deal with StudioCanal fell through on quite a few of their titles. Prior to that, its stars Tom Courtenay and Julie Christie exerted enough hipster appeal to have inspired Yo La Tengo to capture their own daydreaming fantasies in this song:
...but that was back in 1995. Now, with the film languishing in limbo and perhaps feeling a bit dated as one of the last pop snapshots of pre-Beatles England, I'm not quite sure how well it would do in connecting with a younger generation of today's viewers. Maybe I'll have to watch it with one or more of my young adult children to gauge their reaction.
But as for me, I enjoyed myself tremendously as I revisited this sharp, witty exploration of post-adolescent consciousness, filtered so exquisitely through the perspective of that pivotal generation of UK baby-boomers to whom we owe so much, who were just on the brink of launching the British Invasion that changed American culture, and my life, all for the better. Billy Liar, a funnier, more winsome companion to its rougher, rowdier cousin This Sporting Life, captures that moment of transformation in English culture as the last bits of wreckage left over from World War II were finally getting cleaned up and pushed aside, so that a modernized populace could put the hardships and deprivations of the previous decades behind them. Of course, the indications of changes to come were embedded all around, sneaking up on them in such a way that few if any were aware of the transitional moment they inhabited. It's only in hindsight, as we see the clear demarcation of what took place in the years immediately following 1963, that the shift in eras becomes so obvious.
Billy Fisher is a young man working as a clerk in a funeral parlor in a drab northern town. Still dependent on his parents for shelter and sustenance, he possesses a restlessly creative artist's imagination. He's gifted with the ability to synthesize random bits of news, history and pop culture into internally visualized scenarios that provide brief but sanity-preserving moments of escape from the tedium of his present circumstances - a lot in life that seems wholly inadequate for Billy's talents and potential, especially as viewed through the precocious, narcissistic lens of his own self-regard. Besides the dearth of opportunities provided to such a bright young man in that mediocre setting, Billy has a couple of other over-arching problems - he's not sufficiently understood and appreciated by the people nearest to him, and he has an unfortunate knack of mucking things up in both his professional and his romantic relationships.
His audacious fantasies, projecting himself into positions of heroic greatness and commanding leadership, provoke plenty of laughs, especially among those of us who can fully relate to the delusional habits he so willingly indulges in, and which are so vividly realized on screen. Stuck in an entry-level desk job that will require years of patient, subservient toil to ever advance beyond, if he decides to stick with it, Billy resorts to frequent mental vacations that help him avoid the teasing harassment of his peers and the accusatory glare of his boss, Mr. Shadrack.
But the imaginary escapades also take their toll on his performance. The most egregious of his errors, failing to mail out a batch of 200+ calendars at the end of the previous year and idly spending the postage money given to him for the task, has triggered a crisis: what to do with the damning evidence? Why he doesn't just toss them in some anonymous trash bin anywhere in town is never quite explained, but his desperate attempts to cover his tracks got me laughing anyway.
Likewise, his fumbling efforts at juggling two girlfriends that he's each allowed to be considered his fiancee, even to the point of "sharing" an engagement ring, prove to be pretty uproarious, as the rope he's been stringing them along on turns into a self-tied noose around his ardent neck.
The women each epitomize one of the types that a man like Billy is likely to marry, whenever he gets around to making up his mind. There's Barbara: sweet, almost syrupy, domesticated and prudish when it comes to public or private displays of affection, the kind who will keep her man productive and in check through quiet, passive-aggressive means as the years go by. And there's Rita: sharp-tongued, insistent and demeaning, but ready to go a little further with carnal explorations in the here and now, the kind of wife that will leave little room for doubt about how she's feeling and won't grant Billy a moment's peace for the rest of his life if she thinks he needs to step up his game in any way.
In contrast to the stark, oppressive realities of dead-end job and ominously constricting romantic troubles, there's Liz, the free-spirited, charming and empathetic young woman that Billy's become enamored with from a distance. They've known each other for some time, but while Billy has been stuck in his rut, Liz has been taking her first tentative steps away from the bondage imposed by the home town they're both so eager to leave behind. She's visited London and gotten around a bit, and in the process, she's become aware of the larger world, the expanded possibilities of what life could offer to those who dare step out of the mold predestined for them. She's the one person who takes Billy's supposedly vain ambition of being a comedy sketch writer seriously; not too seriously, since she really has no idea whether or not he'd be successful at it. But she knows that it's a risk worth taking, since he has so little to lose, really.
So after the very funny amusements of Billy Liar's first half run their course, things become much more serious. A decision needs to be made, after we realize just how wretchedly stuck Mr. William Fisher really is, and he discovers the tempting plausibility of Liz's offer to help provide his long-sought escape. His momentous wrestling with the choice he has to make, the whims he entertains, the weight of the responsibilities he accepts and the bitter draught of disappointment he has to swallow as he declines that one-way ticket to London, rivet our attention in the film's final moments, culminating in Billy's stalwart march back home at the head of his imaginary troops (either as a bold victorious conqueror, or leading a processional of surrender, it's left up to us to evaluate and decide.) As it turns out, for all the inconvenience and frustration that Billy's habitual deception caused to his family, friends and co-workers, the biggest lies he ever told were the ones he directed toward himself.
...and here's one more pop music reference to Billy Liar:
Next: Shock Corridor