Billy Elliot: A London Musical Hit on Broadway

Britain and America, to paraphrase the old saw, often seem like two countries divided by a common theater. Big hits on the London stage are just as likely to fizzle as they are to thrive when they immigrate to America. And Billy Elliot: The Musical might seem to be a British blockbuster with an especially precarious future. Though a monstrous hit in London for the past 3 1/2 years, it is as intractably British as musicals come. Based on the 2000 movie about a boy from the coal country of northern England who discovers his talent for dance, Billy Elliot is rooted in a time and place that have little resonance for Americans: the coal miners’ strike of 1984-85, provoked by the Conservative Thatcher government’s efforts to dismantle England’s nationalized coal industry. For an American theatergoer, the accents are tough, the palette dark and the inspirational story grounded in a glum, and very English, working-class setting.

Not surprisingly, the version that just opened on Broadway–directed, as in London, by Stephen Daldry–has lost some of the grit it displayed on its home turf. But if Prime Minister Gordon Brown’s bank-rescue plan can become the model for the rest of the world’s finance ministers, there’s no reason Billy Elliot–the best British musical import since Miss Saigon–can’t bridge the cultural chasm too.

For any audience, the show makes a powerful emotional connection. Billy’s motherless household is a grubby, oppressive place, from which he escapes when he accidentally finds himself in a girls’ ballet class. The teacher recognizes his talent, begins tutoring him in private and persuades him to try out for the Royal Ballet–all of which he must hide from his father and brother, who are consumed by their increasingly doomed strike.

Oh, and there are songs too–good ones by Elton John, with lyrics by Lee Hall–but they are so tightly woven into the action that you almost hate to single them out. The show’s centerpiece, of course, is Billy’s dancing, which ranges from tap numbers to Swan Lake, as well as a striking Act I finale in which Billy erupts in an emotional, free-form paroxysm of frustration and anger. But Peter Darling’s choreography is most impressive in intricately staged group numbers like “Solidarity,” which brings together lines of cops, strikers and Billy’s dance class for a pas de trois that both propels the story and stops the show.

Despite the uplift, Billy Elliot does an amazing job of not pandering. Billy’s road to self-discovery is hard fought, and it exacts a painful price. His father, once over the shock and shame of learning his boy’s ambitions, crosses the picket line to earn money for Billy’s audition. Issues of sexuality and gender-stereotyping are faced head-on but not pressed. He’s no “poof,” Billy insists, but that doesn’t stop him from a joyful number in which he dons women’s dresses with his (less poof-averse) friend Michael. The big emotional moments are manfully underplayed. When Billy must say goodbye to his teacher and leave for London, there are no tears. “I’ll miss you,” says Billy, from across the room. “No, you won’t,” she replies. “You’ll spend five years unlearning everything I taught you. It’s all right. It’s the way it is.”

With mostly American actors doing northern England accents, the home scenes don’t have quite the authenticity they did in London. The ballet class includes a few too many mugging little girls trying out for Annie, and the Billy I saw (David Alvarez, one of three boys alternating in the role) is a better dancer than actor. Still, Billy Elliot does almost everything a musical should do, and more. It’s a diplomatic triumph.