Billy Liar 4K 1963

“Today is a very important day. I’m starting to write a novel. 2,000 words a day... Today is a very important day.” That’s how Billy Fisher’s morning begins—as always, running late for work, with sweet yawns and flights of fancy to the imaginary land of Ambrosia. There, he’s a war hero, a prime minister, and much more. Here, he’s a clerk at a funeral home, a small fry in a provincial town who’s managed to thoroughly annoy both his family and acquaintances with his tall tales.

Inspired by the arrival of a certain celebrity, comedian Danny Boone, Billy sets his sights on London, imagining himself as Boone’s screenwriter. Naturally, Billy’s plans fall apart, but a beautiful girl named Liz appears on the horizon. An eccentric, a bird of passage—everything comes easily to her. If she feels like it, she’ll fly off to France or return to her hometown for just one night. “It’s so easy!” she tells Billy about moving to London. “You buy a ticket, and that’s it.” A dreamer, she sees a kindred spirit in Billy. But is that really the case? Who is he, really—this Billy?

A lifeless generation, raised—if that word applies—by “pioneer fathers” who started their careers at the very bottom and achieved decent results—and that’s all that’s needed— this generation, incapable of fierce rebellion but for whom moping around in offices is equally unbearable, invents the land of Ambrosia through Billy—not to escape the mundanity of the surrounding world, for there is little poetry in this imaginary world. Rather, it is to feel like a hero (it’s no coincidence that all of Billy’s fantasies center on war—perhaps the one his father never got to fight in). A dreamer?—Not at all. His dreams are too petty, and he abandons them all too quickly, yet his face shows not a trace of disappointment. A writer?—that doesn’t quite fit either. Billy’s imagination is somewhat limited and mediocre, which is certainly not true of him personally. And yet, is he a skilled liar? And first and foremost, is he lying to himself?

Fisher’s most sincere line in the entire film: “Every day I start a new page, but it’s nothing but scribbles.” It seems he understands the futility of his existence. For me, that’s when he truly revealed himself. I believe him. I even believe in him. That he’s capable of taking a decisive and reckless leap into the unknown, leaving everything behind and “disappearing in London”...

The acting is superb. Julie Christie doesn’t even need to act. As soon as the camera captures her slender figure, everything around her glows. She herself glows and seems to float. And then there’s Tom Courtenay. The final scene, as well as the episode with buying milk, turn all my guesses, impressions, and reflections about his character on their head. And, of course, thanks to John Schlesinger for this film, which remains incredibly relevant even today. The truth never grows old.