October 22, 1999 | Brandon Teena knew what girls like. During the opening minutes of the mesmerizing Boys Don’t Cry, we get a chance to see Brandon make some smooth moves on young lovelies in Lincoln, Neb., circa 1993. And we see how Brandon’s escapades angered many hot-tempered young men. More important, we also see that Brandon Teena really was Teena Brandon, a young woman.
Late one night, some seriously irate tough guys – the Nebraska equivalent of rednecks – follow Teena to the trailer home where she’s crashing with a cousin, Lonny. They want to thwack the cross-dressing Lothario who’s been wooing “their” women. And even Lonny isn’t so sure that his cousin doesn’t deserve such treatment. “You’re not a boy!” Lonny screams at Teena. But Teena – who would really rather be addressed as Brandon, and referred to as “he” or “him” – has a quick rejoinder: “Then how come they say I’m the best boyfriend they ever had?”
Boys Don’t Cry is the true-life story of Teena Brandon, a fatally impetuous small-town misfit whose penchant for “strapping and packing” – flattening her breasts with an elastic bandage, and stuffing socks down her pants – brought out the best and worst in the people fooled by her gender disguise. Even if you know nothing about the actual events that inspired the screenplay director Kimberly Peirce co-wrote with Andy Bienen, you can’t help feeling right from the get-go, as Brandon tries to establish a new life by moving to the tiny hamlet of Falls City, that nothing good will come of such risky behavior. And yet, for a lot longer than you might expect, there is something oddly exhilarating about Brandon’s unique take on the American Dream of reinventing yourself.
Hilary Swank’s perfect-pitch portrayal of Teena Brandon is the key to the movie’s success as a compelling character study. The filmmakers haven’t tried to “explain” Brandon by attaching labels or passing judgments; they leave it up to us decide – if indeed we want to decide – whether she’s a lesbian or a transsexual, or whatever. All that Peirce and Bienen want us to understand is that, regardless of the reason why, Brandon blissed out on the sheer thrill of successfully passing as someone else. And Swank enables us to share that thrill – along with experiencing a few shivery premonitions of danger – by giving a remarkably ingratiating performance. Truth to tell, Brandon isn’t much smarter than the people who are most angered when they see through her disguise. You could even make the argument that Brandon is, to a large degree, self-destructively stupid. But Swank’s luminous smile of delight speaks volumes about the naive joy Brandon takes in being able to play her role so convincingly, so winningly.
Swank’s exemplary work is complemented by that of her co-star, Chloe Sevigny, as Lana, a young woman who falls hard for Brandon after “he” arrives in Falls City, and who remains very much in love even after she begins to suspect that Brandon isn’t quite what “he” seems. By watching how Lana responds to the shy, soft-spoken Brandon, and seeing how she’s slowly beguiled by “his” gently romantic manner, we come to better understand just how Brandon captivated the credulous. That is, we appreciate how, for a small-town woman in Lana’s situation, surrounded by losers like John (Peter Sarsgaard), her violent ex-boyfriend, and Tom (Brendan Sexton III), John’s equally macho buddy, Brandon might seem like the closest thing to a Prince Charming she’d ever likely encounter.
Boys Don’t Cry ends as it must, with Brandon unmasked, assaulted and, in a genuinely horrifying climax, brutally murdered. What makes the movie as a whole so haunting is the clear suggestion in the final scenes that, given Brandon’s addiction to a secret life on the edge, there really wasn’t any other way for things to turn out. Just before one of Brandon’s attackers does his dirty work, he snaps: “You know, you brought this on yourself.” Which, when you think about it, is just another way of warning that, sometimes, dreams can turn into nightmares.
