3بخش

Mr. Keating.

Mr. Keating.

Sir?

Say something.

O Captain, My Captain?

Gentlemen.

We were just looking in your old annual.

Oh, my God.

No, that’s not me.

Stanley “The Tool” Wilson.

God.

What was the Dead Poets Society?

I doubt the present administration would look too favorably upon that.

Why?

What was it?

Gentlemen, can you keep a secret?

Sure.

The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life.

That’s a phrase from Thoreau we would invoke at the beginning of every meeting.

See, we would gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley, the biggies.

Even some of our own verse.

And in the enchantment of the moment, we’d let poetry work its magic.

You mean it was a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry?

No, Mr. Overstreet, it wasn’t just guys.

We weren’t a Greek organization, we were romantics.

And we didn’t just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues like honey.

Spirits soared, women swooned, and gods were created, gentlemen.

Not a bad way to spend an evening, eh?

Thank you, Mr. Perry, for this stroll down amnesia lane.

Burn that.

Especially my picture.

Dead Poets Society.

What?

I say we go tonight.

Tonight?

Wait a minute.

Everybody in?

Where’s this cave he’s talking about?

It’s beyond the stream.

I know where it is.

That’s miles.

Sounds boring to me.

Don’t go.

You know how many demerits we’re talking?

So don’t come, please.

Look, all I’m saying is that we have to be careful.

We can’t get caught.

No shit, Sherlock.

You boys there, hurry up.

All right.

Who’s in?

Come on, Neil, Hager’s there.

Forget Hager.

No.

Who’s in?

I’m in.

I’m warning you.

Move.

Me too.

I don’t know, Neil.

What?

Pitts.

Pittsie, come on.

His grades are hurting.

You can help him, Meeks.

What is this, a midnight study group?

Forget it, you’re coming.

Meeks, your grades hurting too?

I’ll try anything once.

Except sex.

I’m in as long as we’re careful.

What about you, Knox?

I don’t know, Charlie.

Come on, Knox.

It’ll help you get Chris.

Yeah?

How?

Women swoon.

Ha, ha, ha.

But why do they swoon?

Charlie, tell me why they swoon.

Charlie.

You’re not listening.

Look, you follow the stream to the waterfall.

It’s right there.

It’s got to be like.

I don’t know, guys, it’s starting to sound dangerous.

Well, why don’t you stay home?

You’re crazy.

For God’s sake, stop chattering and sit down.

Todd, are you coming tonight?

No.

Why not?

You were there.

You heard Keating.

Don’t you want to do something about.

Yes, but, uh.

But what?

Keating said that everybody took turns reading, and I don’t want to do that.

Gosh, you really have a problem with that, don’t you?

No, I don’t have a problem.

Neil, I just.

I don’t want to do it, okay?

All right.

What if you didn’t have to read?

What if you just came and listened?

That’s not how it works.

Forget how it works.

What if they said it was okay?

What?

What, are you gonna go up and ask them if?

No, no.

I’ll be right back.

Neil.

Neil.

Oh, shut up, will you?

That’s for my asthma, okay?

Could you give that back, please?

Could you give that back?

What’s the matter?

Don’t you like snakes?

You’re in.

Get away from me, okay?

Spaz, why don’t you check your pockets?

Come on, Spaz.

I have to brush my teeth.

Hurry up, get off.

Cut out that racket in there.

Let’s go.

Let’s go, let’s go, come on.

Let’s get out of here.

Go.

Shh.

Yarr!

I’m a dead poet.

Jesus, Charlie.

Guys, over here.

Ha, ha, ha.

You’re funny.

You’re real funny.

It’s too wet.

God, you trying to smoke us out of here?

No, the smoke’s going right up this opening.

You okay?

Arghh.

Oh, God.

Clod.

All right, all right, forget the fire.

Forget it, forget it.

Let’s go, gentlemen.

It’s like trying to light a swamp.

I hereby reconvene the Dead Poets Society.

Yay.

Welton Chapter.

The meetings will be conducted by myself and the other new initiates now present.

Todd Anderson, because he prefers not to read, will keep minutes of the meetings.

I’ll now read the traditional opening message by society member Henry David Thoreau.

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately.

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.

I’ll second that.

“To put to rout all that was not life, and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.

And Keating’s marked a bunch of other pages.

All right, intermission.

Dig deep, right here.

Right here, lay it down.

On the mud?

We’re gonna put our food on the mud?

Meeks, put your coat down.

Picnic blanket.

Use Meeks’ coat.

“Use Meeks’ coat.

Don’t keep anything back, either.

You guys are always bumming my smokes.

Raisins?

Yeah.

Wait a minute.

Who gave us half a roll?

I’m eating the other half.

Come on.

What, you want me to put it back?

It was a dark and rainy night.

And this old lady who had a passion for jigsaw puzzles sat by herself in her house at her table to complete a new jigsaw puzzle.

As she pieced the puzzle together, she realized to her astonishment that the image that was formed was her very own room, and the figure in the center of the puzzle, as she completed it, was herself.

And with trembling hands, she placed the last four pieces and stared in horror at the face of a demented madman at the window.

The last thing that this old lady ever heard was the sound of breaking glass.

No shit.

Yes.

This is true.

This is true.

I’ve got one that’s even better than that.

I do.

There’s a young married couple, and they’re driving through the forest at night from a long trip.

They run out of gas, and there’s a madman.

That thing with the hands?

And he cuts her husband’s head off?

I love that story.

I told you that one.

You did not.

I got that in, uh, camp in sixth grade.

In a mean abode in the Shanking road, Lived a man named William Bloat;

Now, he had a wife, The plague of his life

Who continually got his goat.

And one day at dawn, With her night shift on

He slit her bloody throat.

Oh, and it gets worse.

You want to hear a real poem?

Want this?

No, I don’t need it.

Get this out of here.

Did you bring one?

You memorized a poem?

I didn’t memorize a poem.

Move up.

An original piece by Charlie Dalton.

An original piece.

Take center stage.

You know this is history, right?

This is history.

Where did you get that?

Teach me to love?

Go teach thy self more wit;I chief Professor am of it.

The God of Love If such a thing there be

May learn to love from me.

Wow.

Did you write that?

Abraham Cowley.

Okay, who’s next?

Alfred Lord Tennyson.

Come, my friends

‘This not too late to seek a newer world.

For my purpose holds, To sail beyond the sunset.

And though we are not now, That strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven;

That which we are, we are

One equal temper of heroic hearts

Made weak by time and fate

But strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find

And not to yield.

Then I had religion

And then I had a vision.

I could not turn, From their revel in derision.

Then I saw the Congo

Creeping through the black

Cutting through the forest, With a golden track.

Then I saw the Congo

Creeping through the black

Cutting through the forest, With a golden track.

Then I saw the Congo

Creeping through the black

Cutting through the forest, With a golden track.

Then I saw the Congo

Creeping through the black

Cutting through the forest, With a golden track.

Then I saw the Congo

Creeping through the black

Cutting through the forest, With a golden track.

Then I saw the Congo

Creeping through the black

Cutting through the forest, With a golden track.

Then I saw the Congo

Creeping through the black

Cutting through the forest, With a golden track.

Then I saw the Congo

Creeping through the black

Cutting through the forest, With a golden track.

Take it, Meeks.

Take it away.

Cutting through the forest, With a golden track.

Then I saw the Congo

creeping through the black

A man is not very tired, he is exhausted.

And don’t use “very sad,” use.

Come on, Mr. Overstreet, you twerp.

Morose?

Exactly, morose.

Now, language was developed for one endeavor, and that is?

Mr. Anderson?

Come on, are you a man or an amoeba?

Mr. Perry?

To communicate.

No.

To woo women.

Today we’re gonna be talking about William Shakespeare.

Oh, God.

I know.

A lot of you look forward to this about as much as you look forward to root canal work.

We’re gonna talk about Shakespeare as someone who writes something very interesting.

Now, many of you have seen Shakespeare done very much like this:

O, Titus, bring your friend hither.

But if any of you have seen Mr. Marlon Brando, you know Shakespeare can be different.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.

You can also imagine John Wayne as Macbeth going:

“Well, is this a dagger I see before me?