Today I‘d like to speak about an entirely different matter than usual: about a movie. It’s almost a crime that I haven’t seen this movie earlier, but as luck would have it, zdf_neo aired Peter
Weir’s magnificent movie “Dead Poets Society” today.
I‘m not going to go into detail as far as the movie’s content is concerned, after all I don’t want to give any spoilers to those who weren’t lucky enough to see the movie so far. But I do wish to
say one thing: it’s a sad and very emotionally touching movie.
One of the main topics of the movie is the rebellion against conventions and the message that it’s important to develop an own mind, an own way to think – but the movie also expresses a great
love to poetry and literature. These are also the subjects taught by the teacher John Keating at the conservative boys-only Welton Academy. Obviously some people aren’t going to like his way of
teaching...
I, for one, was very impressed by him and the entire movie – as much as it also made me feel rather sad. But still the end of the movie touched my heart and I could not help but to think
that it’s a pity I never had the honor of knowing a teacher like Keating. But it wasn’t only the story that makes the movie so absolutely beautiful, but the whole staging, the set, the actors and
the music were simply perfect. I’ve rarely ever seen a movie as poetic as this one.
The person I could relate to the most in this movie was Neil Perry (played by Robert Sean – to my shame I have to admit that so far I’ve only known him as James Wilson in the popular TV show
House MD. What? I like that show too D: Simply because I can relate to House as well if it comes to his opinions about people >>; But anyway, enough of this off topic talk). Neil
is a young man who discovers his love for play-acting... With tragic consequences.
Why I like him? Well, he really reminds me of myself in a way and I realized that if I had been in his situation, I would have made the same decision as he did. Art and writing are my life, just
as acting had become his – without them, life means nothing. It’s them that make my life worth living.
Just a few days ago we spoke in class about the “basic needs of humans” and I said at that time that one of my basic needs, is art. And yes, it’s true, I need it to be happy, I need it to live.
If I can draw, if I can create something with my very own hands and if an empty piece of paper suddenly turns into a piece of art or a story, then I am happy. If letters become lines, and lines
become a whole, so stories become worlds and worlds begin to live, then my life is perfect. If I cannot draw, nor write, then my life is dismal and hollow.
A life without art and literature? A life without me.
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