Bully (2012)

Anyone who’s gotten beyond 9th-grade knows that adolescents can be cruel and hurtful. Provided a vulnerable target, middle-school children often behave like sociopaths, lashing out without empathy. They hone in on weaker targets, inflicting physical and emotional damage on anyone unfortunate enough to stand out. “Bully,” the sobering, affecting documentary by director Lee Hirsch, makes the case that bullying is an epidemic in American schools, with catastrophic results.

The film begins with a somber man (David Long) speaking directly into the camera. His sadness is palpable. He answers questions from an unseen interviewer, about the endless torment his son received at the hands of fellow students. Brutalized for too long for not being athletic or popular enough, the man’s 17-year old son Tyler eventually hanged himself in his bedroom closet to escape.

We never see Tyler onscreen, except in a handful of old home movies. However, his death hangs over the film. Its a cautionary tale telling what might happen to several other sympathetic kids we meet along the way, if not enough teachers, school administrators and parents get involved to interrupt the violent cycle.

First we meet Alex, a gangly, awkward, immature, unusual-looking but ultimately sweet middle-schooler from Sioux City, Iowa. He wears glasses, isn’t particularly athletic, and describes himself as “having trouble making friends.” From footage of him in classrooms and hallways, he appears to be right. How many 13-years olds have this level of self-awareness? Or would describe themselves so negatively? He’s brutalized mercilessly on the bus ride to-and-from school each day. Older, bigger kids slap, punch, choke, stab him with pencils, knock books from his arms, and threaten him with unspeakable torture. 

Rather than fight back (as his father admonishes him), Alex quietly accepts his lot. He tries to keep his head down, accepting whatever punishment for uncommitted crimes he receives, hoping it won’t escalate, and that it’ll all be over soon. His is one of the saddest tales I’ve seen at the movies in a very long time.

Next we meet Kelby, a thoughtful, mature, articulate, lesbian high-school student from rural Oklahoma. She loves basketball, but isn’t allowed to play on the school team, because of her sexuality. We’re not shown actual footage of kids bullying her. However, she goes into great detail about the unimaginable lengths to which students go, simply in order to let her know she’s not welcome. Idealistic and optimistic, she would rather stay and fight the bigotry, rather than flee.

Ja’Maya, from Yazoo, Mississippi, is the third child we meet. Like Alex she, too, faces daily threats and abuse on the bus. Unlike him, when pushed to her limit, she decides to fight back. For this brave but reckless act, she faces disproportionate backlash from the same local administrators who never acted to shelter her from aggressive classmates.

One trait the kids share is that they’re all outcasts. Whether because they’re gay, uncoordinated, or socially clumsy, they all exist outside the protective, reassuring mainstream of their schools’ societies. Some have small, supportive social networks. For those who don’t, their ability to endure daily torture is nothing short of incredible.

One of the most infuriating portions of the film deals with the reaction (or lack thereof) of school officials. When presented with irrefutable evidence of bullying in their schools, like the Catholic church they insist it’s merely an isolated problem, perpetrated by a few bad apples. Bullying is not widespread problem at their school, they assure the filmmakers. Their complete failure to understand the scope of the problem is remarkable. Without exception, teachers, vice principals, and superintendents rationalize assaults as just “kids being kids,” or social interactions between children which are beyond adult control. When the parents of one victimized child meet with a vice principal, instead of searching for solutions, or offering compassion, she instead says the abuse might continue regardless of their efforts, and shows them pictures of her own grandchildren. Her lack of judgment, common sense and compassion are astounding.

We’re also introduced to parents of children who have suffered bullying. These poor people are frustrated, bewildered, but determined to make change. But how? Where to begin? Especially with a school board that refuses to even acknowledge a problem exists?

The film contains many harrowing scenes of children viciously abusing classmates. It also shows small acts of tremendous courage. One young child describes, in traumatic detail, the extent of bullying at his school, in front of a school-board meeting full of stern-faced adults. His lips trembling, the boy’s desperate cry for help is one of the movie’s most poignant scenes.

“Bully” is compelling on several levels. Those of us who have survived middle school can probably attest to the frightening violence of bullying experienced first-hand, either as victims, silent witnesses, or the perpetrators ourselves. Memories of these ordeals leave an indelible mark.

Further, the kids in the movie are all gentle, kind and good-natured. Seeing them on the receiving end of such treatment is unpleasant. Alex, Kelby and Ja’Maya want little more than to attend school unmolested. As well as just a small amount of acceptance and tolerance. Their plight is heartbreaking.

It would have been useful for the filmmakers to interview the bullies themselves, as well as their parents. Perhaps we might’ve learned something about how these kids were created. What fills them with so much anger? What might stop them? The film doesn’t ask these important questions, when it should.

Filled with sadness, anxiety and ultimately hope, Bully is moving plea to begin dealing with this pervasive problem. Its message is urgent, impassioned, and convincingly delivered.