Sunday, Great Movies, 1:20pm
Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society (1989) remains a defining exploration of youthful defiance and intellectual awakening, anchored by Robin Williams’ transcendent performance as the unconventional English teacher John Keating. Set in the rigid confines of Welton Academy, the film captures the tension between tradition and self-expression, as a group of students discover the power of poetry and independent thought. Its visual storytelling—bathed in autumnal hues and steeped in the melancholy of lost potential—finds a quiet yet powerful companion in Maurice Jarre’s understated score, which eschews bombast in favor of a more restrained emotional depth.
Jarre, best known for grand, sweeping compositions (Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago), takes a different approach here, favoring atmospheric synth textures that complement the film’s introspective mood. The score’s electronic minimalism, particularly in pieces like Keating’s Triumph, evokes a sense of delicate nostalgia rather than overt sentimentality, reinforcing the film’s themes of fleeting youth and suppressed rebellion. While it may seem anachronistic against the film’s 1950s setting, the synthesizer-heavy compositions lend an ethereal, almost timeless quality, underscoring the story’s universal appeal.
Beyond the score, Dead Poets Society also utilizes classical and choral pieces, most notably Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9and Handel’s Water Music, to contrast the rigid, institutional world of Welton with the freer spirit Keating encourages. The use of these compositions, alongside Jarre’s more modernist score, creates a poignant duality—rooted in tradition but yearning for something new. In this way, the film’s music mirrors its central conflict: the struggle between conformity and individuality. While the film itself leaves us with the lingering ache of unrealized dreams, its soundtrack ensures that Keating’s message—“Carpe Diem”—resonates long after the final frame.