Dead Poets Society (1989)

Directed by: Mike Weir

Written by: Tom Schulman

Robin  Williams had a thing for roles that bring the “silly” and the “serious” together. The product of this combination is what one could call “heartfeltness,” and for better or worse, it is seen in Williams’ work in Jack, Toys and even Aladdin. It would be hard, however, to think of a role better suited for Williams’ ideology than the one he took on in Dead Poets Society. Williams stars in the film as Mr. Keating, an eccentric English teacher who professionally demonstrates how “silliness” can in fact make for the best teaching methodology.

Unlike its women-centred imitator, Mona Lisa Smile, however, Dead Poets’ Society does not make its teacher its protagonist. Instead, Keating is allowed to shine as a role model (seemingly astute and strategic in his understanding of his situation), while his student Neil, (Robert Sean Leonard) stars as the film’s true rebellious artist.

Dead Poets Society, it turns out, has strong thematic overlap with 2019’s Blinded by the Light (the subject of another of my recent reviews). Both films make the case that honest and courages advocacy for the arts can persuade anyone of their utility. Both works (along with Mona Lisa Smile) also promote the idea that strong friendship bonds can be built over shared obsession with arts and an idol. 

As is the case with the other two films, I found Dead Poet’s to be a bit too optimistic in its imagining of how quickly such a group could come together (in other words these films undermined the realness of their messages by gunning too hard for the inspirational). A final similarity between the films is both feature unsubtle, socially-conservative (quasi-) antagonists. While part of me is inclined to say this lack of subtlety is a weakness, another part of me is full of a curious doubt. Is it possible in the case of at least one of these movies, that these antagonist are not Oscar-bait caricatures, but poignant representations of how extreme certain attitudes can get? I want to believe, but with over-the-top-characters in these kind of movies it becomes a matter of  Boy Who Cried Wolf.

Dead Poets Society is a film set at an (all-white) boy’s school. As such there are certainly limits to its perspective, and there are elements in its writing that could do with an update. The character of Knox (Josh Charles), for instance, is the definition of the “nice guy,” trope (a problem a slightly more-critical, but still sympathetic portrayal could solve).

The film’s datedness also gives it a rigidity when it comes to its central plot. Even if one criticizes Blinded by the Light for employing caricatures, at very least those carciatures contribute to a reasonably complex, and still-relevant dilemma (growing up while oppressed by contradictory social forces), and help fuel the film’s thoughtful ending. Dead Poets Society, by contrast, only attacks its protagonists from one angle: the angle of unimaginative, patriarchal, old-fashioned white men (Norman Lloyd and Kurtwood Smith). One could thus say a flaw of the film is that it presents its characters with antagonists who don’t lend themselves to interesting themes: the reactionary characters are pretty obviously reactionary: there’s no debate to be had about the value of their perspectives.

But while Dead Poets Society may not be obviously applicable to contemporary contexts, if one does the work to translate it, it becomes quite interesting. Blinded by the Light’s protagonist’s problems may literally be more severe than those of the protagonist in Dead Poets, but the newer film ultimately ends on a more inspirational note: in large part because its “antagonist” is not actually a “bad guy.” 

Dead Poets Society, by contrast, comes closer to dealing with actual bad guys. It provides a painful, but necessary reminder to social reformers. At times I feel like my generation is a uniquely progressive one (and clearly many agree, thus the popularity of the pro-millennial phrase “ok boomer”). Dead Poets Society, is a reminder, however, that the mere emergence of progressive ideas is not enough to change the world, so long as the guardians of old ways retain their grip on power. This critique might be particularly compelling when applied to modern academic institutions (institutions that reject calls for fossil fuel divestment, refuse to acknowledge their role in student mental health crises, charge unaffordable tuition fees, etc), that might not be so obviously conservative as the one portrayed in this film, but nonetheless operate in a problematic, maintain-the-status-quo manner.

As a piece of storytelling Dead Poets Society has strengths and weaknesses. On the one hand it aspires to being an ensemble movie, without quite doing enough to develop each of the members’ of its ensemble (there are parts of the film where secondary protagonist Todd (Ethan Hawke) feels forgotten). On the other hand, the film, at a macro level, is a dynamic narrative. It introduces a plot twist which disturbs not just because of what the twist is, but even more so because of the twist’s after affects. At the end of the day, this film is one of Robin Williams’ classic roles. Whatever one makes of its strengths as a piece of commentary, his performance as the “Captain,” is not one to be missed.

Blinded By the Light (2019)

Directed by: Gurinder Chadha

Written by: Chadha, Jane Barclay and Jamal Daniel

Based on the book Greetings from Bury Park: Race, Religion and Rock N’ Roll
by Sarfraz Manzoor

“Blinded by the Light,” may be known as a hit for Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, but the song was actually written by a not-yet-famous Bruce Springsteen. It is therefore a somewhat interesting choice as the title of Gurinder Chadha’s movie: the story of a working-class, Pakistani-English boy named Javed (Viveik Kalra) who gets the inspiration to find himself through the music of Bruce Springsteen.

The film’s plot is fairly straightforwardly illustrated in its Oscar-baity-trailer.  Javed feels alienated both by his conservative father (Kulvinder Ghir) and the misery of his Thatcher-era London suburb.  Subsequently, he meets Roops (Aaron Phagura), a fellow South Asian student, who introduces him to Bruce Springsteen. The two prove equally obsessed with the singer-songwriter, a commonality which might strike some viewers as too corny/too good to be true, but at very least I found their shared obsession a nice fantasy to buy into (for what it’s worth both characters are based on real people). 

Another simple, but effective choice the film makes, is going out of its way to emphasize the particular Springsteen lyrics that speak to Javed. Springsteen’s lyrics lack the obvious literary pretension of Bob Dylan, making it all the more interesting and novel when the film brings out their richness.

Blinded by the Light undoubtedly employs feel good and Oscar-bait tropes that some viewers might find alienating. One of the film’s most dramatic scenes, which involves a spat between Javed and his father over a Bruce Springsteen concert feels a bit forced, since Javed surely should have known (particularly at that moment), not to mention the concert at all. Overall, however, I think these weaknesses are made up for, so long as one is invested in the Springsteen storyline, and if one appreciates where the film ultimately goes with its messaging. 

Blinded by the Light is the kind of film that tells you exactly what it thinks you need to know about injustice: that its protagonist is faced with the twin pressures of in- family conservatism, alongside society’s austerity and white supremacism. Similar themes were seen in the 2018 Freddie Mercury biopic Bohemian Rhapsody a film no doubt aiming for similar audiences to Blinded by the Light’s. The Mercury film does what one would expect an Oscar-bait film to do with those motifs: it acknowledges they exist, and then has its protagonist transcend them by learning to be himself. Blinded by the Light, like Bohemian Rhapsody, indeed prioritizes a big finish over realism, but it also manages to engage with its motifs on a deeper level. (Not that that it’s the wrong way to go in a Queen biopic but) singing “We are the Champions” cannot be the answer to societal problems, at least if you don’t have an army of fans to sing alongside you.

Javed’s liberation instead comes from writing, a hobby his father discourages on the grounds that it may not lead to a stable career. This is why it makes sense that Chadha named her film for a famous Bruce composition, rather than a Bruce-hit. Blinded by the Light acknowledges that we may never meet out artistic heroes, but we can look at what they create, and in turn apply it to ourselves. That application can advance our careers, but it can also advance our relationships. Blinded by the Light  does feature the classic inspirational–teacher-figure (Hayley Atwell), and her role in the script is indeed to point out Javed’s singular potential, but what makes the movie memorable is that its messaging goes beyond that. It teaches that when we put our feelings and stories on paper, we are forced to engage with them with a depth that doesn’t come naturally in our day to day existence. We may never be  famous rockstars, or a semi-famous authors who write about rockstars, but so long as we can write, and enjoy the writing of others, we can all walk in the sun.

 

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019)

Directed by: Marianne Heller

Written by: Micah Fitzerman-Blue and Noah Harpster

The trailer I saw for A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood struck me as an artifact of its (this) time.  The trailer simply showed Tom Hanks re-enacting the theme song to children’s TV show Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, with emphasis put on its resemblance to footage from the actual show. 2019 has been a year full of sequels and remakes, which has led to concern that commercial cinema (the Lion King remake in particular) has become more concerned with catering to nostalgia than with heartfelt storytelling. Given the vaulting of Mr. Rogers back into public consciousness via the 2018 documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor, one would not be remiss to suspect A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood of falling into that trap.

Viewers will be pleasantly surprised when they see the film, which is a true homage and not a mere recreation. The film’s subversiveness strikes early. We are quickly made to realize that A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood is not in fact a biopic, but rather an alternative imagining of a Mr. Rogers episode. As a result, the film’s recreation of Rogers’ set no longer comes across as pure aesthetic flash but rather as an invitation for adults for the first time in years (or ever) to guiltlessly enjoy an episode. Mr. Rogers’s legacy in part was that he advocated for children to have a safe space in which to process dark issues such as death, war and racism. A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood puts that idea through the mirror. Adults are of course expected to discuss these issues, but we are rarely given the chance to do so in a Rogersian environment.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood should be commended for that vision, as well as for giving Tom Hanks a chance to channel Mr. Rogers’s warm energy. That said, while the film undoubtedly has an auterial side, it has an Oscar bait side as well.  The film is based loosely on a profile of Rogers written by journalist Tom Junod. Junod is loosely adapted for the screen as Lloyd Vogel (Matthew Rhys). We are first introduced to Vogel a new parent and supportive husband to a public interest lawyer, Andrea (Susan Kelechi Watson), who is pained by a past fallout with his father (Chris Cooper). Once Lloyd’s father formally emerges, however, all nuance is swept under the rug. Not only is Lloyd a mess around his father, but he’s also revealed to be an overly cynical, caustic reporter and under responsive to his wife’s concerns.

Predictably the film’s story resolves around the polar clash of personalities between Vogel and Rogers, and while Rogers’ distinct mannerisms keep the film engaging, Vogel’s clichéd cold-dad persona keeps the interactions from feeling truly real. This shortcoming is particularly unfortunate given the potential having Mr. Rogers as a character offers. Mr. Rogers was not simply kind and meditative: he was a singular character. This means that Vogel did not have to be written as his polar opposite for the film’s drama to work. A nuanced Vogel still could have learned a lot from Rogers, but that was a risk it seemed the screenwriters were unwilling to take.

As a child I did not watch much Mr Rogers, but I did watch a lot of Arthur. One of that show’s great episodes features an animated, animalian Rogers as a guest star. The character wisely reassures 8-year-old Arthur about his insecurities about associating with Rogers and his “baby show.” Despite being a children’s show itself, the ten minute episode somehow achieves what It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood does not. Arthur is not depicted one-dimensionally as broken like Lloyd is. Instead, Arthur is show to be a normal kid with anxieties: a normal kid who can nonetheless stand to learn life lessons. 

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood rightly teaches that adults need a Mr. Rogers just as much as kids do. Unfortunately it is not bold enough to imagine what such a scenario could actually look like. Arthur is, literally, a cartoon, but figuratively speaking, the real cartoon is Lloyd Vogel. Mr. Rogers was not a cartoon in any sense of the word, and as such, it would be nice to see his spirit helping real adults, just as it helped real children.