Dead Poets Society is a 1989 drama that earned high praise for this performances and story, making stars of many in its young cast.
THE STORY: At a prestigious all-male prep school in New England, introverted Todd Anderson (Ethan Hawke) begins his senior year, making friends with several prominent students, including hard-working but artistically-driven Neil Perry (Robert Sean Leonard). They are soon swept up in the influence of the school’s new English teacher, John Keating (Robin Williams), who’s rather unconventional style urges freedom of expression, putting a fire in the boy’s bellies while rocking the boat among the elders.
Director: Peter Weir
Writer: Tom Schulman
Stars: Robin Williams, Robert Sean Leonard, Ethan Hawke
THE RUNDOWN: Coveted as one of Williams best films, it’s hard not to get carried away in the larger message, one that is timeless in its delivery, with the film mostly hitting the right marks in a story that does what it intends. While Williams earned high praise, it’s really the cast of soon-to-be familiar faces that truly have impact, with Hawke and Leonard giving the movie its heart, their characters embracing what they are taught and discovering the consequences of it. A little over ripe in places, Dead Poets Society is nonetheless a solid go-to flick to get a very inspired.
Often overlooked in the character-driven story is how good director Peter Weir uses visuals to tell the story. It’s a great-looking movie.
While Robin Williams is great for most of the film, it’s too bad the movie lets him get a little off the rails here and there, having him drift into schtick when it doesn’t feel right.
THAT MOMENT: Todd Anderson lives in the shadow of his big brother, a former graduate of Welston Academy (affectionately called ‘Helston’ by the student body), a valedictorian who continues to be remembered even a few years after he left. Todd is almost painfully awkward yet very intelligent, a young man who is nearly crushed by his own shyness, barely speaking a word when his much more rambunctious hall mates come a knocking.
On the boy’s first day of class with John Keating – who is himself an alumnus of Welton – he takes them literally out of classroom to show them photos in the atrium of boys just like them from decades prior who had the same hopes and dreams, striving to inspire them to seize the day, or carpe diem as it rings throughout the remainder of the film. This has profound effect on Todd, who works hard to remain in the shadows but is lured into the light by the impact of Keating’s motivations.
While the boys clamour for some life in the doldrums of constant study, they learn of a thing called The Dead Poets Society, a club Keating was part of back in his day, when a few unorthodox students would sneak out in the night to a nearby cave to read and experience prose and poetry. Todd joins a few who secretly reconvene the Society and while he’s slow to start, finds a courage within himself to sort of find his own path.
This leads him to a fateful day in Keating’s class when the teacher tasks the boys to write their own original poem and read it aloud to the class. We listen to a few boys offer their efforts, one who tries to put into words his feelings for a girl he is desperately smitten with, and another who simply doesn’t care all the much about poetry and talks briefly about a cat … on a mat. It falls flat.
Then Keating turns his attention to Todd, who is hoping not to be seen at all. We know from a previous scene that Todd tried very hard to compose something for the class, but when it’s his turn, he claims he has nothing. This doesn’t stop Keating though, who notes aloud the boy’s self-hatred and feelings of worthlessness. Keating then takes to the chalkboard to scribble a rather humorous but encouraging line from perennial favorite and father of free verse, Walt Whitman: “I sound my barbaric YAWP from the rooftops of the world.”
He then approaches Todd again and instructs him to give a YAWP in front of the class, hoping to unleash the creativity nesting deep with the burdened boy. When Todd does finally let loose a YAWP, Keating pounces on the moment and prompts Todd to freestyle his own poem, placing his hands over the boy’s eyes and having him spill out the first words that come to his lips. What happens next, sees Todd at last let go of the darkness so compressed around him, and pour out an aching, unfettered creation that earns praise from the boys and a personal moment of truth from Keating.
WHY IT MATTERS: The movies are full of wallflowers finding their opportunity to shine, and Dead Poets Society doesn’t try all that hard to mess with a formula that still works well today. While Todd is only half the coin in the two-sided tale of young men wholly changed by Keating’s teachings, and perhaps the least impactful by the time the film draws to its end, Todd does have great significance in closing the circle on Keating’s powerful message.
This moment is easily the strongest in the film, where both Williams and Hawke find a unity that is rare in movies, their actions feeling spontaneous and unscripted, born from the moment as it unspools. The contrast of Keating’s dynamic fill-the-room presence and Anderson’s reclusive, mousy fear are wonderfully paired, the two working off each with surprising resonance.
Director Peter Weir has his best moment here as well, allowing the movement and dialogue to feel organic while capturing the fluidity of these two characters in action, spinning the camera around them as Todd breathlessly orates his vision. This simulates the whirlwind emotional upheaval Todd is feeling while further isolating him from the almost crippling fear of exposure he has by speaking in front of his friends. It’s a mesmerizing image.
So what does Todd say as Keating closes his eyes and verbally prompts the boy to describe what he sees in the dark. It goes like this:
I close my eyes and this image floats beside me.
A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain.
His hands reach out and choke me.
And all the time he’s mumbling, mumbling truth, like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold.
You push it, stretch it, it’ll never be enough.
You kick at it, beat it, it’ll never cover any of us.
From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it’ll just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.
Using a famous photo of Whitman as a jumping off point, Anderson tells of a demon-like figure that pursues him, warning him of an inescapable fact, one that is harsh and unyielding, smothering us all for all our time, that death is coming. Even as young as Todd is, he feels its weight, pressures all around that make him believe he will fail, even as he strives for opposite. This is important because it serves as a reflection, albeit far darker, to Keating’s own philosophy of carpe diem, that with our limitations, we must strive to make the most of what we are given. 
What I like best is when it’s over, while the boys who began the moment in laughter are now cheering, and Keating sees that what he guessed about Anderson is true, the boy, lost in his shell, has finally found a spot of illumination. It’s the first crack in the dam, once thought impenetrable. Keating comes close to Todd, leans in softly and tells him, “Don’t you forget this.”
Think how powerful this words are, how transformative their effect can be and you can see where Dead Poets Society really finds its groove, despite some comedic lapses that fidget with the tone. How rare is it to be so greatly influenced by another, to be moved to your core by something someone else unearthed from within yourself? That’s the real ‘magic’ of this scene, when we are touched not only by the awakening of Todd but the satisfaction of his teacher. It’s a great movie moment.