Beautiful Thing is one of those films that feels like a warm, Queer hug – a tender portrayal of young love wrapped in the grit and charm of 90s South London. Directed by Hettie MacDonald and based on Jonathan Harvey’s play, it tells the story of Jamie (Glen Berry) and Ste (Scott Neal), two teenage boys from the same housing estate, who slowly discover their feelings for each other amidst the chaos of family life, bullying, and working-class struggles.
From the start, it’s clear that Beautiful Thing isn’t just a coming-out story – it’s a love story, plain and simple. Jamie is shy, awkward, and grappling with his sexuality, while Ste, bruised by the domestic abuse he faces at home, finds unexpected safety and comfort in Jamie’s company. What’s so special about this film is the way it handles their romance with such gentleness. It doesn’t rush their relationship but lets it develop naturally, from nervous glances to that unforgettable scene where they lie in bed together for the first time, hands shyly brushing.
Safe Spaces and Vanishing Pubs: Beautiful Thing is a Love Letter to the Queer Community.
There’s a lot of heart in the supporting characters too, particularly Jamie’s brassy and bold mother, Sandra (Linda Henry), who’s as tough as she is loving. Sandra’s subplot – navigating her own romantic entanglements and parenting a Queer son – adds emotional weight and complexity. The film’s depiction of working-class life, from the cramped council flats to the chatter of the neighbours, is beautifully authentic.
The setting of Beautiful Thing feels especially poignant today. Jamie and Ste’s early relationship blossoms in the Gloucester Arms, a gay-friendly pub that becomes a sanctuary for them, reflecting the once-thriving safe spaces for Queer people. Watching it now feels bittersweet, as many of these vital places have closed. The Gloucester Arms, an iconic part of the film, has long since shut down, symbolising a wider trend in London and beyond, where Queer pubs and bars are disappearing due to gentrification and rising rents. This adds nostalgia and urgency to Beautiful Thing, reminding us of the importance of these spaces for Queer youth.
The soundtrack, filled with the music of Mama Cass, underscores key moments with a dreamy, almost ethereal quality. Her songs echo the innocence and hope in Jamie and Ste’s growing love, making their world feel both fragile and filled with possibility. “Make Your Own Kind of Music” becomes more than just a song – it’s a message, an anthem for these two boys carving out space for their love in a world that doesn’t always welcome it.
Beautiful Thing is unapologetically Queer, but it’s also deeply relatable. It speaks to anyone who’s ever been scared to show their true self or found love in the unlikeliest of places. And while it’s certainly a product of its time – capturing the roughness and beauty of 90s Britain – it’s still as relevant today as it was when it was first released. The story of first love, acceptance, and finding your place in the world never gets old.
Final Thoughts ★★★★★
Would I recommend Beautiful Thing? Without question. If you’re after a film that will make you feel nostalgic, hopeful, and a little bit teary, this is the one. It’s a reminder that love, in all its forms, is worth celebrating – no matter how complicated or difficult it might seem. And as the Queer spaces we once relied on slowly vanish, it’s a bittersweet testament to the importance of finding – and fighting for – your community.
Available to watch on Prime Video and other streaming services.
More Reading
- A Queer Cowboy in the City: Lonesome’s Gritty Tale of Queer Longing and Discovery
- All of Us Strangers: A Hauntingly Beautiful Exploration of What Could Have Been
- Bear Traps at The Golden Goose Theatre: A Quiet Look at Family Ties and Black Holes
- Buried Truths and Second Chances: Two Come Home Delivers a Heartfelt, Moving Reckoning
