Beating a Dead Poet

I found out in a posting on an educational site I visit frequently (hat tip to Joanne Jacobs) that one of my favorite Robin Williams movies has reached the quarter century mark. As difficult as it is for me to believe, Dead Poets' Society has turned silver though, according to some of the reviews, malignant black or green would be just as appropriate.

It was an article I was not eager to accept, and a premise I had little desire to agree with. As I said, this was one of my favorite of Mr. William's works. I thought the writing was well done, the cinematography good, and the performances quite believable on the whole. Williams managed to be funny at times without going totally ballistic. He managed to be dramatic at times as well, something a good deal more rare for him in those days. Summing things up, I suppose it's correct to say that I like the work as "a movie." If you try to evaluate Dead Poets' Society in terms of messaging, the picture changes.

The references and commentary provided by Ms. Jacobs give an excellent picture of what's not to like about the film from an educator's standpoint. I recommend visiting there through the above link for that aspect. My views on academic rigor and the demands of writing were mostly set by the time I had seen the film, and I had no children then, so I was a good deal more forgiving when it came to movie characters trying to pass off intellectual tripe as nobility with regards to the younger generation. (Things have changed considerably these days.) There was, however, a small portion of the film that I found particularly irksome, even then.

There is a point in the movie where Mr. Keating (Williams) is addressing his class, and wants to impress upon them the importance of the study of poetry. To make his point, he declares "We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." And I remember thinking even as he said it that somewhere, somehow, my life's goals, dreams, hopes, and priorities had just been demoted, scooped up before the cinema public and proclaimed nothing more than a droplet in the stream of human passion, and that unless elevated by the ranks of the poets it might as well not even exist.

As the other commentaries said, narcissism plays a key part in the message. While I am great believer in the value of love, beauty, and even poetry (on occasion), experience and reflection have shown me that their greatest value to mankind has come when they are bestowed from beyond mankind. Don't get me wrong. I've read and enjoyed the work of some marvelously talented authors, playwrights, poets, lyricists, singers, and I say without hesitation that they have enhanced my life in many ways. But there is only one Author whose passion has inspired life forever.

Oddly enough, Hollywood seems to want little to do with him.