Billy Elliot (2000)
Tutor 1: What does it feel like when you're dancing?
Billy: Don't know. Sorta feels good. Sorta stiff and that, but once I get going... then I like, forget everything. And... sorta disappear. Sorta disappear. Like I feel a change in my whole body. And I've got this fire in my body. I'm just there. Flyin' like a bird. Like electricity. Yeah, like electricity.
Billy: Just because I like ballet doesn't mean I'm a poof, you know.
Mrs. Wilkinson: This'll sound strange, Billy, but for some time now I've been thinkin' of the Royal Ballet School.
Billy: Aren't you a bit old, miss?
Mrs. Wilkinson: No, not me... you! I'm the bloody teacher!
Dad: Listen, have you noticed anything weird about our Billy lately?
Tony: What are you after like, a list?
[Billy is dancing while walking]
Dad: Is that absolutely necessary? Walk normal!
Billy: Miss, you don't fancy me do, do you?
Mrs. Wilkinson: No, Billy. Funnily enough, I don't. Now piss off!
Billy: [smiling] Piss off yourself.
Billy: My hands are freezing.
Michael: 'Gizzem here.
Billy: [Michael takes his hands and puts them in his jacket] What are you doing?
Michael: Nothin'. Just warmin' your hands up.
Billy: [pause] You're not a poof or owt?
Michael: [deadpan] What gave you that impression?
Billy: Aren't me hands cold?
Michael: I quite like it.
[kisses Billy on the cheek; they stare at each other]
Billy: Just because I like ballet, doesn't mean I'm a poof, you know.
Michael: You won't tell anyone, will you?
Billy: [pauses, then grins] Come on.
Michael: [stares after him longingly]
Michael: Oi! Dancing boy!
Dad: [Billy turns around and starts running to him] We'll miss the bus, Billy!
Tony: Can you stop being an old fucking woman?
Billy: [approaches Michael, then after a moment, kisses him on the cheek] See you then.
[smiles and runs off]
Billy: So what about your mother? Does she have sex?
Debbie: No, she's unfulfilled. That's why she dances.
Billy: She dances instead of sex? Your family's weird!
Billy: I don't want a childhood. I want to be a ballet dancer.
Grandma: I used to go to ballet.
Dad: All right for your Nana, for girls. No, not for lads, Billy. Lads do football... or boxing... or wrestling. Not friggin' ballet.
NCB Official: Can you tell us why you first became interested in ballet?
Billy: Don't know.
Billy: Just was.
NCB Official: Well was there any particular aspect of the ballet which caught your imagination?
Billy: The dancin'.
Billy: So, what's it like, like?
Dad: What's what like?
Dad: I don't know, son. I never made it past Durham.
Billy: Have you never been?
Dad: Why would I want to go to London?
Billy: It's the capital city!
Dad: Well, there are no mines in London.
Billy: Jesus Christ, is that all you think about?
Dad: I'm bustin' my ass for those 50 pences and you're - look, from now on, you stay here and look out for your Nana. Got that? Good.
Grandma: They used to say I could have been a professional dancer if I'd had the trainin'!
Dad: WILL YOU SHUT UP?
Billy: I hate you! You're a bastard!
[Billy falls to an opponent at boxing]
George: Jesus Christ, Billy Elliot! You're a disgrace to them gloves, your father, and the traditions of this boxing hall!
[at the theatre]
Tony: What the bloody hell are you doing here?
Michael (Aged 25): I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Mrs. Wilkinson: So. Do we get the pleasure of your company next week?
Billy: It's just, I feel like a right sissy.
Mrs. Wilkinson: Well don't act like one. 50p please. And if you're not coming again give us your shoes.
Billy: [thinks] No, you're all right.
Mrs. Wilkinson: Right.
Gary Poulson: What are you deeing man? This is hand to hand combat not a bloody tea dance!
Michael: So you're going to ballet every week?
Billy: Aye, but don't say owt.
Michael: Do you get to wear a tutu?
Billy: Fuck off, they're only for lasses. I wear me shorts.
Michael: You ought to ask for a tutu?
Billy: I'd look a right dickhead.
Michael: I think you'd look wicked.
Billy: I think I'm scared, Dad.
Dad: That's okay, son. We're all scared.
Billy: Well... if I don't like it, can I still come back?
Dad: Are you kidding? We've let out your room.
[straight face then laughter]
Mrs. Wilkinson: Find a place on that bloody wall and focus on that spot. Then whip your head 'round and come back to that spot. Prepare!
Mrs. Wilkinson: Right, Mr. Braithwaite, "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow".
Mrs. Wilkinson: Fat chance!
Mr. Braithwaite: You look like a right wanker to me, son.
Debbie: Dad did it with this woman from work but they don't think I know.
George: [to the boxing class] I'm going to let Mrs. Wilkinson use the bottom end of the boxing hall for her ballet lessons. So no hanky-panky, understood?
Billy: I don't want to do your stupid fucking audition! You only want me to do it for your own benefit!
Michael: Oi, dancing boy!
[Billy runs to Michael]
Dad: We'll miss the bus, Billy!
Tony: Will you stop being an old fucking woman?