Dead Poets

As part of our aforementioned Cry Movie Marathon, the girls and I found our way to Dead Poets Society over the weekend. (On an unrelated note, is anyone else vaguely unsettled by the apostrophical lack in that title?)

Robin Williams gives those private school boys all kinds of soul-thrilling advice. Carpe Diem! Seize the day! Dare to make your lives extraordinary! Suck the marrow out of life! Look at things differently!

And most importantly, but left unsaid: find your voice.

"O Captain my Captain!" *sob*

So all of us who watched this movie when we were impressionable teenagers-- we've all (technically) become grownups. Can we watch it now with cynicism? Think to ourselves "I'd get that teacher fired so fast if I were paying that tuition!" or "Damn that Robert Sean Leonard and his irresponsible obsession with acting when his dad has worked so hard to send him to med school!"

I can't. I can't not love this movie. Maybe because I was a teenager when I saw it, ripe for rebellion. Or maybe because some themes are universal and ageless, fanning that half-forgotten spark in all of us. Leading us to dare hope that we can live authentic lives instead of trudging the status quo. Encouraging us follow our dreams, to not give up on our passions. Even for those of us who have continued on to dull grey jobs as customer service reps and bankers and however else we're paying our bills.

Maybe movies like this remind all of us that we do have dreams and passions, even if they're resting for the moment. Or for the last decade or two. It's surprising how easily they're forgotten, when once upon a time they took our breath away. But dreams are forgiving little suckers, just waiting for you to pry them out of deep storage.

Just waiting.