Warning: Themes of suicide and emotional abuse will be mentioned in the following blog.
Dead Poets Society: A Brief Overlook
Last night, my roommate and I decided it was time to watch Dead Poets Society- an Oscar-winning film released in 1989 starring Robin Williams as a quirky, unorthodox English teacher at Welton Academy, an elite all-boys preparatory school.
As the students of the school face pressure from parents, administrators, and other teachers to succeed in academia, William’s character Mr. John Keating preaches the Latin phrase “Carpe diem” to his students which translates to “seize the day” and emphasizes the importance of following passion and living in the now, which inspires the group to bring back the ‘Dead Poets Society’, of which Keating began during his time as a student at the school.
The group lives up to the honor of its predecessors by taking turns reading old literature and original poetry during their secret meetings in a cave close to the campus.
If you haven’t seen the movie, I highly recommend it and this will be the only warning as we advance about spoilers. Considering the movie turned 35 years old in June, I think that goes without saying. If you want a synopsis of the motion picture, you can read it here.
I want to focus on one character in particular, Neil Perry, and his relationship with his father and how it ultimately led to his suicide.
The Dead Poet
Neil, an ambitious student with a passion for art and theatrics is forced by his parents’ wishes to pursue a career as a doctor, with aspirations to attend Harvard University. His parents’ desires for his life and career path are the opposite of his ideas, yet he cannot refute his parents because he believes he owes it to them.
Early in the movie, Neil finds himself on the receiving end of a stern lecture from his father for his intent to help create the Welton Academy yearbook, which his father believes is a distraction to his academics. Despite having perfect grades, Neil is forced to drop the extracurricular activity.
I reflect on my own life and my path in my career as a writer, journalist, and broadcaster through high school to my second year of college. For not one second have I regretted my decision to embark on this path, nor have I had any doubts about the support of my parents and family.
Selfishly enough, I’ve taken advantage of that support. Sometimes I have abused it. My decision alone to attend a four-year university in pursuit of the “big college” experience made significantly less sense than attending a local junior college. Thanks to that support, I faced the opportunity to pursue my dreams.
The Smoking Gun
Neil didn’t have a choice. When he decided to audition for the school play, not only was it against his parents’ discretion, they were never told he was going up for a role. Neil’s father only found out he was in the play when another parent mentioned to him that her niece would be sharing the stage with him. His father demands he quit despite Neil having the lead role and the play being the next night.
Neil, once again behind his parents’ backs, decides to go through with the performance. Although he gave an outstanding performance, which resulted in a standing ovation, Neil’s father begrudgingly took him home after and threatened to unenroll him from Welton and into Braden Military Academy so he could continue on the path to Harvard.
Overcome with emotions and a sense of feeling trapped, Neil commits suicide using his father’s handgun.
Neil chose death over living a life he didn’t desire. Neil’s parents chose a dream for their child over their child.
I struggle to put myself in his shoes. On one hand, many folks dream about attending such a prestigious university on a fast track to a successful medical career. On the other, a life worth living is the one you want to live.
Above all, there is one thing that I always had that Neil never did—control over my destiny. I knew what my passions were, my skillset, and the stability that I could pursue them. I knew I wasn’t set to become a lawyer, doctor, or banker. My parents never pushed me otherwise, but that’s not the case for Neil.
The irony of it all being his father’s gun. Although his father didn’t kill him, it’s clear that the pressure mounted by his parents did and the use of his father’s gun points out the fatal flaw his parents made.
Mr. Keating
Neil’s untimely death resulted in Keating losing his job, falling as the scapegoat for the group’s antics as the headmaster of the academy cited his “abuse of authority” as the group’s reasoning to bring back the Dead Poets Society.
The surviving members of the group were coerced into signing a document that acknowledged their involvement in the secret club and Keating’s involvement with it.
Keating took the fall for Neil’s suicide, despite providing the only adult support for Neil and his true ambitions throughout the entire film.
Despite never facing the same hardships that Neil did, I’ve met a few Keatings in my time through the public school system. Teachers who fight for their students, give them as much of their time and resources as possible while infrequently receiving any recognition in return.
Notably, my band director through junior high and high school pushed me to continue playing the saxophone even during periods when the frustration of learning the instrument overcame me.
My radio broadcasting teacher during my junior and senior years of high school dealt with a school administration that eventually cut the broadcasting department in half while simultaneously pushing each of his students to strive for greatness in an underappreciated medium of media.
Teachers like those led me to perform in a college marching band and contribute to a college radio station and I certainly wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the lessons I learned in those classrooms.
The Dead Poet In All Of Us
Not everyone is as fortunate as me. I’ve had second chances across the board and endless support to bounce back after every mistake I’ve made. Some never have a chance.
While not everyone faces the same extreme fate as Neil, plenty live out his nightmare. There is a dead poet who lives in all of us of a dream that we couldn’t create for ourselves. For me, I always dreamed of playing football. Not once did I step foot on the gridiron.
Fortunately, my goal post moved, and I have been able to pursue my dreams of a career in media. Everyone walks around with a dead poet inside of them, wishing they could perform a sold-out show as a rockstar or star in a Hollywood film.
Every day that passes where we can’t live out our passions is another missed chance of “Carpe diem”.
Photo credit: Far Out / Buena Vista Pictures Distribution