(no subject)
Last night, I was hanging around the house, doing the usual Friday night routine. I don't go out very much on the weekends, and don't really want to. I waste money, and don't have much fun. I'm content to be at home, and like getting caught up on all of my projects. I currently have a lot of irons in the fire, and all of the projects are time intensive. I've got my movie, and all of its assorted time-wasting activities. I've also got to finish the documentary I'm doing with my students in less than two weeks, and I've got to finish planning and organizing a major music program at my school in which I'm playing in a band for, and then there is the social life that has sprung up in the middle of this beehive of activity. I have something going on just about every night of the week, so I'm cool with being a slug on the weekends. I've earned it.
One thing I have to do is force myself to take breaks. I'd say that half my time on the weekends consists of editing video, and the other half is writing. I have two computers that sit side by side, and I bounce back and forth between multiple projects. And surprisingly enough, I manage to turn them over really quickly in spite of myself.
So during one of my forced breaks last night, I decided to pop in Mr. Holland's Opus, one of my all-time favorite movies. I liked this movie a lot the first few times I saw it, and after becoming a teacher, the movie became much more meaningful.
I often joke around with my teacher friends about the cottage industry of providing feel-good materials for teachers. The little gifts that they make that say #1 teacher, the books full of little Johnny stories, the motivational/self-help books. They're all so disgustingly syrupy sweet, and they're geared toward simpletons who must constantly receive praise to function. I occasionally get these gifts from relatives or students, and I smile and thank them. But my drive to do the job is to create a better world by igniting a burning desire in children to do something. My ambition is turn lazy slugs into self-reliant go-getters, and I know that this is not a natural act. I also know that no matter how good I am at my job, there will always be losers, and that I must accept it. So my idealism continues to exist, but experience has told me where it truly belongs. In spite of all of this, I remain hopeful in my realism.
That said, the teacher movies are always a big draw. Stand and Deliver, Dangerous Minds, Music of the Heart, Dead Poets Society, you name it. Some are better than others, but they all revolve around a teacher that makes sacrifices and uses unorthodox methods to inspire children, in spite of an uncooperative school board, uncooperative adminstrators, a family that tells him or her to quit, and a class full of hard-nosed, yet diverse (and loveable) lost causes/gang members/poor people. The teacher goes through a very predictable series of story arcs that culiminates in great success by the loveable ragtag group that has overcome great adversity to score high on a test/win a competition/keep a school open. So formula, but the formula clearly works.
Opus is a favorite of mine, because I really relate well to the main character, and there are some wonderful acting performances in the movie. My only complaint was the ending of the movie. During the first act, we see the music teacher making a major breakthrough with a student. At the end of the movie, Mr. Holland is informed by the evil school administrator that the music program is going to be completely cut, and he's out of a job. He unsuccessfully pleads his case in front of the evil school board, and then returns to pack his things.
They surprise him with a huge retirement assembly, and the auditorium is filled to capacity with all of the people whose lives he touched, and they send him off in style by performing his symphony. At the assembly, the awkward student he helped in the first act turns out to be the governor, and she speaks warmly of her former mentor before grabbing her clarinet and taking to the stage.
The thing that always rubbed me the wrong way was the fact that the governor did nothing to stop what was going on, but didn't have any trouble showing up to speak after he was pushed out on his ass and had the rug pulled out from under him. This is very inconsistent logic in so many different ways, and it just angers me. Her character was simply trying to cover up something that should not have been allowed to happen by coming and making a speech. Thanks, but no thanks.
But last night, I noticed little nitpicky things, such as poorly directed extras being allowed to ham it up too much, and other directing and editing copouts. I realized that as much as I love the movie, and will always love the movie in terms of its ability to get an emotional response from it, I probably won't want to watch it again anytime soon. It has nothing more to offer me. It's not a movie I'd want to watch with someone else, and it's not something I'd like to watch alone again, either.
One thing I have to do is force myself to take breaks. I'd say that half my time on the weekends consists of editing video, and the other half is writing. I have two computers that sit side by side, and I bounce back and forth between multiple projects. And surprisingly enough, I manage to turn them over really quickly in spite of myself.
So during one of my forced breaks last night, I decided to pop in Mr. Holland's Opus, one of my all-time favorite movies. I liked this movie a lot the first few times I saw it, and after becoming a teacher, the movie became much more meaningful.
I often joke around with my teacher friends about the cottage industry of providing feel-good materials for teachers. The little gifts that they make that say #1 teacher, the books full of little Johnny stories, the motivational/self-help books. They're all so disgustingly syrupy sweet, and they're geared toward simpletons who must constantly receive praise to function. I occasionally get these gifts from relatives or students, and I smile and thank them. But my drive to do the job is to create a better world by igniting a burning desire in children to do something. My ambition is turn lazy slugs into self-reliant go-getters, and I know that this is not a natural act. I also know that no matter how good I am at my job, there will always be losers, and that I must accept it. So my idealism continues to exist, but experience has told me where it truly belongs. In spite of all of this, I remain hopeful in my realism.
That said, the teacher movies are always a big draw. Stand and Deliver, Dangerous Minds, Music of the Heart, Dead Poets Society, you name it. Some are better than others, but they all revolve around a teacher that makes sacrifices and uses unorthodox methods to inspire children, in spite of an uncooperative school board, uncooperative adminstrators, a family that tells him or her to quit, and a class full of hard-nosed, yet diverse (and loveable) lost causes/gang members/poor people. The teacher goes through a very predictable series of story arcs that culiminates in great success by the loveable ragtag group that has overcome great adversity to score high on a test/win a competition/keep a school open. So formula, but the formula clearly works.
Opus is a favorite of mine, because I really relate well to the main character, and there are some wonderful acting performances in the movie. My only complaint was the ending of the movie. During the first act, we see the music teacher making a major breakthrough with a student. At the end of the movie, Mr. Holland is informed by the evil school administrator that the music program is going to be completely cut, and he's out of a job. He unsuccessfully pleads his case in front of the evil school board, and then returns to pack his things.
They surprise him with a huge retirement assembly, and the auditorium is filled to capacity with all of the people whose lives he touched, and they send him off in style by performing his symphony. At the assembly, the awkward student he helped in the first act turns out to be the governor, and she speaks warmly of her former mentor before grabbing her clarinet and taking to the stage.
The thing that always rubbed me the wrong way was the fact that the governor did nothing to stop what was going on, but didn't have any trouble showing up to speak after he was pushed out on his ass and had the rug pulled out from under him. This is very inconsistent logic in so many different ways, and it just angers me. Her character was simply trying to cover up something that should not have been allowed to happen by coming and making a speech. Thanks, but no thanks.
But last night, I noticed little nitpicky things, such as poorly directed extras being allowed to ham it up too much, and other directing and editing copouts. I realized that as much as I love the movie, and will always love the movie in terms of its ability to get an emotional response from it, I probably won't want to watch it again anytime soon. It has nothing more to offer me. It's not a movie I'd want to watch with someone else, and it's not something I'd like to watch alone again, either.