This blog post takes an in-depth look at how the film Dead Poets Society resonates across generations as a classic masterpiece, and why Mr. Keating’s teachings remain a message that still shakes our lives and choices today.
Episode 1
After lunch, while strolling with a friend, I headed toward the Kwanjeong Building, its facade gleaming in the sunlight. Arriving at the 6th-floor multimedia center, I reserved a seat and stood before the DVD search counter. “What movie should I watch today?” I pondered briefly. Before long, I searched for a movie I’d been meaning to watch for a while. ‘791.43 W433d, hmm, it must be over there in that corner,’ I muttered, moving my feet. Passing through the circular aisle stacked with popular DVDs and past countless DVD racks, I found the one I wanted. ‘Lucky no one rented it today.’ I quickly went to the information desk at the multimedia room entrance to borrow it, returned to my seat, and inserted the DVD. A little boy adjusting his clothes appeared, then a student, and as a single candle lit, the movie began.
‘Dead Poets Society’
The scene opens with the entrance ceremony at a so-called elite high school, introducing a new English teacher. The students—the studious ones, the ones who can only study, the ones forced to study—gradually transform under the new teacher’s innovative teaching methods. The teacher says, ‘Carpe Diem, Seize the Day,’ and the students call him ‘O Captain, My Captain.’ The film progresses with a somewhat predictable, familiar narrative. Overcome by post-lunch drowsiness, I close my eyes briefly or fiddle with my smartphone. Somehow, some shed their timid personalities, others set out to find their dreams, while one, unable to overcome family opposition, takes his own life. Ultimately, the teacher who guided them to a new world is expelled from the school. The moment he leaves his classroom carrying his belongings, a student shouts ‘O Captain, My Captain!’ and climbs onto a desk. The end credits roll, and the film concludes. ‘Wow, that was moving,’ I think, returning the DVD and walking out of the video store. ‘So what’s left?’, ‘O Captain, My Captain? Carpe Diem, Seize the Day?’
People have certain expectations for classics, for classic masterpieces. You’d expect a message that truly resonates, scenes that captivate the viewer. There must be a reason why everyone around you watches it and talks about it. That’s what I thought. And isn’t Dead Poets Society a masterpiece everyone knows? These reasons amplified my expectations for this film. Of course, there were a few memorable scenes. But they weren’t the kind that immediately sprang to mind when I thought of the film; they were scenes I had to force myself to recall. The quotes that stuck were only the famous lines everyone knows, the kind you’d overhear around you without needing to look them up online. Ultimately, for me, only the fact that I had seen ‘Dead Poets Society’ remained.
Of course, from another perspective, what matters might be different. In those pretentious gatherings where, while chatting with others, the topic of movies or classics comes up, and the fact that ‘I’ve seen this’ becomes important, the mere act of having seen it might matter far more than the content itself. If the goal is to appear cultured, or rather, to signal that knowledge, then it might already be sufficiently achieved. If you doubt whether such purpose-driven people exist, just open Facebook, Instagram, or Watcha. You’ll likely find one or two such individuals right away. Of course, I’m not very active on social media, but I wasn’t entirely free from this perspective. While I didn’t primarily aim to show off that I’d seen something, it wasn’t entirely without purpose. When classic films came up in conversation, I often talked about having seen them—or rather, I flaunted it.
At this point, you might wonder if I’m emotionally dry, so let me briefly explain: I’d say I’m just an ordinary person. I don’t particularly love watching movies, but I go see ones I occasionally want to watch. When watching films like ‘The Gift of Room 7’ that force tears, I sometimes get fooled and cry. Watching morning dramas I stumble upon when waking up early fills me with anger and frustration. Watching films like ‘Inception’ or ‘Interstellar’ by director Nolan leaves me feeling awe and wonder. But my first experience watching Dead Poets Society didn’t leave a huge impression. Nor did other classic films I watched back then in my quest to become a ‘cultured person’ stick with me much.
Then, a year later, I suddenly thought of that movie. Dead Poets Society. It suddenly popped into my head. A film that served well as a tool for me to show off, but one I never truly understood. Why did this film come back to me now? Why? Because it’s a masterpiece. Because I believed the praise from others and its long-standing fame weren’t for nothing. I wanted to see it again.
Episode 2
I head towards the library, bathed in the red glow of the evening sunset. Arriving at the 6th-floor multimedia center, I reserve a seat and stand before the DVD search kiosk. I search for the film ‘Dead Poets Society’. I move again. Passing through the circular corridor, past countless DVD racks, I find what I sought. ‘Lucky no one rented it today.’ Soon, I go to the information desk at the multimedia center entrance to borrow it, return to my seat, and insert the DVD. Familiar scenes appear. A little boy adjusting his clothes appears, then students appear, and as a single candle is lit, the movie begins again.
‘Dead Poets Society’
The entrance ceremony for Welton, an elite school, appears, and Keating is introduced as the new literature teacher. ‘Carpe Diem, Seize the Day.’, ‘O Captain, My Captain.’ Ah, so that’s where that line came from. The film, with its familiar content, resumes. I want to skip the cringey moments, the tense moments, but I clench my hands tight to hold back, unable to move. The story of each character exists, and the meaning of each line, each scene, comes through. Finally, ‘O Captain, My Captain.’ A member of ‘Dead Poets Society’ climbs onto the desk. The end credits roll. The movie has ended, but it’s not over.
Epilogue
‘So what remains?’ Is this question even valid? They no longer remain passively, like famous lines. They build their own worlds and exist within themselves. The kids who mechanically raced toward a single goal discover a new world. They seek what they truly desire and try to break free from the system. They seek romance and love, absorb the essence of poetry, and search for life’s meaning.
Todd Anderson was timid, perhaps even resistant to change. Passive in all things, reluctant to step forward, he was a lifeless person who set everything aside for the single goal of college entrance. But after meeting Mr. Keating and opening his eyes to ‘romance,’ he becomes a completely different person. When Todd closed his eyes and spoke his thoughts spontaneously, I sensed seeds of vitality in his harsh words. The moment he threw away the useless school supplies set, his vitality found its spark. Facing Neil’s death, he showed what sincerity truly meant. The moment he climbed onto the desk shouting ‘O Captain, My Captain,’ his life force blossomed.
Todd Anderson—he was once me, could have been anyone else, and will be someone else again. His journey to find his vitality deeply taught me the importance of ‘looking around’ rather than ‘heading toward a goal,’ and showed me the tangible power of ‘romance.’ This second viewing, where I grasped both the whole and its parts, allowed me to experience a deeper appreciation than the first time. It enabled me to understand each element meticulously, rather than just letting scenes flow by. It also drew out a deeper empathy.
A film that isn’t life-changing after one viewing won’t become one after two. I also don’t know what other emotions might exist within the film, or what other hidden stories might lie within. However, just as the second experience felt monumental, the third, fourth, and subsequent viewings will undoubtedly deliver even greater impact. This transcends the simple ‘O Captain, My Captain, Carpe Diem, Seize the Day’ and embodies the value of ‘Dead Poets Society’ itself—the value of a classic masterpiece that invites repeated contemplation.
Beyond the reaches of memory, countless works stand side by side, displayed on the wall. Works fading into obscurity, works like Dead Poets Society that have regained their light—all maintain their place without exception. So, let us lend an ear to their stories. They will cry out, their stories, to avoid vanishing, to avoid being forgotten. To listen once more to their world—that could make them shine again, and could bring me that emotion once more.
