by Jon Warner
Billy Casper lives with his elder brother Jud and his mother. They live in a small flat in a factory/mining town in Northern England. Both brothers share the same bed. Billy goes about each day to school wearing the same outfit, always looking rather worn and dirty. He cares not. When he’s not at school, Billy can be seen wandering around town on his paper route, stealing milk or meandering around the countryside with a stick, whacking away at brush and weeds or doing a bit of birdwatching, or getting into a fight with his brother. Though Billy seems to have a great deal of freedom to spend his time as he pleases, his existence has a predestined endpoint based upon where he lives and the family he has born into. In his world in Northern England, there is little hope for a future full of possibilities. He’s expected to learn little in school and indeed, nearly all of the adult figures in the film seem to have it in for Billy. Without fighting against the grain, Billy is likely to take a low paying job in the mines, just like his elder brother does or his father may have done. We would know more about his father if he hadn’t left the family. Billy lives in a world where nearly everyone expects the worst in him, or even goes so far as to antagonize him to keep him down, especially the school superintendent who seems determined to crush everyone’s spirits.
In the same way that some parents may try to steer their children to more practical choices when they hear that they want to pursue a career as a painter or English major instead of a lawyer or doctor. Billy also finds a most ‘impractical’ object of interest instead of prepping to pursue a more appropriate career in a factory or mine: Training a kestrel. After seeing some kestrels flying in a field, Billy pilfers a book on the subject of Falconry from a local bookshop. Determined to pursue this quest, he rather quickly becomes a master on the subject. Not only does Billy catch a kestrel, but he houses, feeds, and trains it with such a respect for craft and expertise that he begins to take on a sort of maturity of spirit through his relationship with the bird he calls Kes. As time marches on, Billy splits his time between school and his bird, with Kes being his clear favorite thing in the world. Billy finds a certain peace and power shifted to him through his passion, ingenuity, and initiative to train his bird, which in its own way is his act of social defiance as he refuses to conform to the expectations of mediocrity and humiliation set before him by parents, school principles (“Your’s is the generation that never listens!” ), coaches and employment agencies.
David Bradley’s performance as Billy goes down as one of the most naturalistic in the realm of childhood roles. You never for once see him attempting to act. Ken Loach of course supports this approach through the way he films, but you still have to cast it correctly. Billy is so slight and grungy that he seems more like a 10 year-old boy who rolls in the mud, rather than a 15 year-old boy on the cusp of young adulthood. There are all those things he’s supposed to be thinking about at age 15, like girls. But, Billy has a state of mind devoid of distractions like that. For him, he sees no limitations yet, refuses to give in, and is determined to let his interests carry him through the day without anyone stopping him. Despite the fact that people believe Billy can’t read (“What’s tha got this (book) for when thou can’t read?”), Billy clearly can read above the ability that is expected of him. Billy’s voice-over while training the bird, as he repeats the lines from the book regarding feeding and training, act both as a means of showing us how intentional Billy is to follow the guidance in the book to the last detail, but also to show us that he is internalizing it, mastering it and can clearly read above and beyond what others think he can.
I would be remiss if I forgot to mention a particular vignette in the film. There’s a funny and very detailed sequence during a physical education session where the gym teacher gathers all the boys to play soccer for their exercise for the day. The coach seems to live in some kind of absurd man-child existence. It’s pretty hilarious when the coach says, “Alright we’re Manchester United, who are you?” The teacher is playing harder than any of the boys and makes it seem like it’s a life and death match, pushing the kids around, calling penalties and generally wreaking havoc. To my mind, this sequence is about as accurate a depiction of what it’s like to be a bunch of boys called together to play a game on a field. Half the boys aren’t even paying attention with two fat boys playing some kind of pat-a-cake game and Billy climbing on the goalpost driving the teacher nuts. It’s a rather hilarious and truthful sequence in all, inducing both laughs and cringes and is one of the highlights of the film. Loach has a lot of fun with this sequence by displaying the score of the game as if it’s a live broadcast on television.
Loach builds the film to its most moving sequence when Billy has to relay a truthful story to the class. Everyone pressures him into talking about his bird. He proceeds to explain to a rapt audience about how he trained his bird Kes, how he feeds it, how he trained it to fly on the leash and then how he got up the gumption to let Kes fly without a leash. It’s a riveting scene and it’s mostly due to the way Billy comes to life when he talks about his bird. It’s his time to shine. What is so defining about this scene is that it is a window into the possibilities that may lie ahead for Billy. This display of passion, leadership and expertise is a shock to those around him (even his teacher) as it goes completely against what his “life’s calling” is supposed to be. Even Billy’s teacher finally gives attention to him, coming to visit him and his bird and witnessing what Billy and his bird can do. It’s the one moment where an adult takes an interest in supporting Billy. Loach thus reminds us through this of the importance of parents, teachers and mentors in the lives of all children and how they can support the children in their lives. Yet, the end of the film is a quick comedown as Billy’s life in Northern England isn’t going to provide any easy pathways. His brother swiftly kills Kes to repay a bit of mischief on Billy’s part. One couldn’t think of anything more cruel or spirit-crushing to happen to Billy. He doesn’t let the bird stay in the trash-can though, fishing him out of there to give him a proper burial. Despite this grievous loss, there’s clearly been growth in Billy. Kes is a masterful, realistic coming of age story, told with particular grace and sensitivity by Ken Loach.
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Thanks. It’s a landmark British film – still has shocking power. Regards Thom.
Thanks Thom! Yes it’s impact can still be felt.
Jon, you chose two exemplary sequences to examine, and you did a fabulous job in doing so. I know a few high school football coaches who operated with the same competitive ferocity as the coach of Manchester United. As you note it is so far over the top that it provokes laughter. But very little in the austere KES is otherwise disarming – it is a deeply felt and tragic coming of age story set in economic impoverishment, and with unfeeling adults who dismiss the bond between boy and bird as meaningless. This is not only one of the best coming of age films, but one of the greatest British films ever made, and Loach’s unquestioned masterpiece. The simply story, very English is dialect and local color is universal in its depiction of this simple relationship that exists in a hostile world. It reminds me of Brendon Turkle’s Caldecott Honor book ‘Thy Friend Obadiah’ set in the Puritan era, though Loach points the finger far more acutely.
Brilliant review of an essential cinema classic and a personal favorite!
Thanks Sam yes this film is essential in all respects. I do think there is some warmth in the film but there is certainly more to it than that. As an aside, I must admit I have to watch with the subtitles on otherwise I don’t catch it all! Ha
Aye Jon, me too! That’s potent Cockney there! 🙂
This is northern England though (Yorkshire to be exact), so it isn’t technically ‘cockney’ which implies a Londoner’s accent. I am sure Allan can speak more on this, but I’ve heard the slang of it referred to as ‘Tyke’. Bernstein’s Knickers in a Twist book has a bit more info on the subject I’m familiar with.
If you listen to say, Jarvis Cocker talk and Pete Townshend you notice the difference.
Yes, excellent point Jamie, I stand corrected on that.
Sadly most Americans think cockney is anywhere working class in England. I’ve told Sam this countless times, but there’s no getting it through his head.
Though the town isn’t specifically mentioned in the film, it’s Barnsley. About as broad Yorkshire as you can get. It’s as close to cockney as Texan accent is to Brooklyn.
I’m not a linguist by any means so the info here from others is good to know. I had read that there is a dubbed version somewhere of this film with more understandable dialogue? Not sure if that’s true or not.
Yes, and I’m not pointing it out to be the smartest guy in the room, rather, the setting—Northern mining town—is really important to this film. This subtextual element describes a lot of the action and reaction within the film where big P politics mix with small p (social) politics. A good many Loach films work in this way, and work within this specific geographical milieu.
Barnsley’s a lovely place…not! As the great comedian Les Dawson famously said “Eee, it’s a tough crowd in Barnsley. If they like you they don’t clap, they let you live.”
One can also see how language or the apparent degree of linguistic skills is emblematic of certain stereotypes that are attributed to the lack thereof, which is not just common to England of course. Same thing happens in the U.S. where the accents of certain portions of the U.S., or to minorities are assigned an educational distinction, which only serves to direct power toward the privileged.
It’s a knife that cuts both ways; sometimes one can sound uneducated or dim while the opposite can appear stiff and out of touch. As is true across most languages, accents can be trimmed a little as one becomes more affluent or educated but often it’s the type of slang that you still hold onto that says the most, not how it sounds coming out of your mouth.
I saw this movie in London not long after its release, and was absolutely stunned. (It turned me into a big Colin Welland fan, too.) I’ve watched it a couple of times since on smaller screens, but I’ll never forget the impact of that first viewing. Thnk you for so evocatively bringing it back to mind.
I read the novel a few years later, and it’s pretty damn’ fine, too.
I too sputtered over Sam’s “Cockney” remark. However, Allan, the couple of times I’ve been in Barnsley I’ve found it fine. Maybe the problem is unique to Les Dawson.
Wow thanks for the remembrances! Was it a wide release in England or was it just playing in arthouses at the time?
I’m trying to recall. I think the cinema I saw it in was the big one in Kilburn, which would have meant the movie was on general release, but it’s possible I popped down to one of the little Oxford Street joints. It was a movie much talked about and widely reviewed, so I’d guess the former.
Earthy realism orchestrated with expert direction. Packs a a wallop. Great review Jon Warner.
Earthy is a great way to describe this David. Thanks!