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Yesterday I made the incredibly time-consuming decision to create tags, which took me hours. Made me realize I have a lot of theater tags, and I don't do posts for every play I see even. Which leads up to the fact that I went to the theater last night to see History Boys, which is awesome and from London. Naturally any time you get Great British Thespians in a room at least one of them has to have been in a Harry Potter movie. This play had two, Richard Griffiths (Uncle Vernon) and Frances de la Tour (Madam Maxine).
Sometimes it seems like the theater is the place you go when you want to listen to any subject discussed intelligently. There just seems so many plays that do that now, as opposed to just being a straight drama, you know? Anyway, The History Boys gives a lot of different angles on the subject of education without, thankfully, setting up a black and white hero and villain.
Richard Griffiths plays Hector, an English teacher who's also coaching a bunch of boys who've done well enough on their A-levels to be taking exams for Oxford and Cambridge in the 1980s. Hector's one of those teachers who, Miss Lintott (Frances de la Tour) says ruefully, is trying to be the kind of teacher kids remember. He's nutty, he's over the top, he's dramatic, he makes them memorize poetry. He also insists on giving them rides home on his motorcycle so he can fondle them as he drives.
Hector's rival is fresh young Oxford grad (actually a graduate of my JYA alma mater, U of Bristol--woo hoo!) who's here to teach them how to do well on the exam by...lying. They must approach essay questions through the back door--or better yet the side door, he says. Dakin, the hotshot student having an affair with the school secretary and beginning to fancy a walk on the other side with Irwin himself, takes a liking to this right away--it's like a game. You just figure out what's not true and argue that. It's a little like crack theories in fandom, which of course is the danger. If you know what you're doing crack theories can be fun, but every day you see earnest fandomers who don't know they're arguing a crack theory and believe that if they thought it up, it must be true.
Anyway, it's not quite so simple as Hector being the wonderful "real" teacher and Irwin being a slick huckster. Hector himself has his own agenda. He hates Oxbridge and would like to see real learning separated entirely from education, so his kids wind up holding themselves back on tests thinking that anything but the boring party line should be saved for his class. Hector also teaches them to memorize songs and bits of old movies (the boys do reenactments of "Now, Voyager" and "Brief Encouter" that are so hilarious--not only does the one boy talk like Bette Davis, he shoulder-walks and smokes like her too). Not that this goes against Irwin's own plan, since he encourages references to "Carry On" movies in essays as part of that all-important back door approach. Miss Lintott, meanwhile, is responsible for the grasp of history the boys do have as their former teacher. At one point she reveals she's not even sure Hector is such a good teacher, feeling that all the memorized poetry etc. is just insurance for his students to substitute for success. Still, there are also examples of the fact that any information is valuable, and learning is valuable in itself. I admit I really loved this one scene where one of the boys brings in a poem he's memorized and he and Hector discuss it, comparing it to other works etc.
Basically all the adults are trapped in this love/hate relationship with Oxbridge. By the end of the night we know where all of them went, and their relationship with their own alma mater is pretty much always couched in how they feel about Oxford and Cambridge.
It's a hilarious play, though. My favorite line I want to mention just because it's one of those great lines that make no sense but that someone would absolutely say. Hector has been given his walking papers due to finally being caught at his motorcycle groping by the headmaster's wife. He's unhappy to learn that Lintott knows the real reason for his dismissal. "Does Irwin know?" know he asks, and she says yes. "Oh god. Do the boys know?" There's this beat of incredulance silence. "Of course the boys know!" It's so funny, yet so easy to believe that the guy who gropes these kids thinks he's somehow keeping it a secret from them as long as they don't hear it from anyone else.
There was one unintentionally chilling line for me at the end, when we learn the fates of the boys in question. One of them, we know, went to Cambridge but flunked out. We learn later he lived alone, got a monthly allowance and had periodic breakdowns (this is of course the boy who really learned everything Hector was teaching and remembered all these events). He has lots of friends, we learn, but...only on the Internet.
Damn. Why does that always have to be some shorthand for failing at life? I mean, I can't really argue with the idea it comes from. The Internet can offer a form of social interaction for people incapable of other sorts--it's more controlled in so many ways. It's not like plenty of people on lj haven't been open about things about themselves that others might judge as "failure." Fandom culture seems to sometimes be constantly fighting its own battle of denial, trying to prove it's not like those losers who interact on the Internet all day! Still it's chilling to realize that that last line about the Internet is actually the nail in the character's coffin--you can imagine him as just kind of eccentric or something until the Internet friends slam him firmly into Pathetic-ville. It's pretty sad that I'm hearing that, getting it, feeling bad and also sitting in my seat reminding myself of every real-life social interaction I've had in the past month. I've got real friends! I think I'm okay!
Sometimes it seems like the theater is the place you go when you want to listen to any subject discussed intelligently. There just seems so many plays that do that now, as opposed to just being a straight drama, you know? Anyway, The History Boys gives a lot of different angles on the subject of education without, thankfully, setting up a black and white hero and villain.
Richard Griffiths plays Hector, an English teacher who's also coaching a bunch of boys who've done well enough on their A-levels to be taking exams for Oxford and Cambridge in the 1980s. Hector's one of those teachers who, Miss Lintott (Frances de la Tour) says ruefully, is trying to be the kind of teacher kids remember. He's nutty, he's over the top, he's dramatic, he makes them memorize poetry. He also insists on giving them rides home on his motorcycle so he can fondle them as he drives.
Hector's rival is fresh young Oxford grad (actually a graduate of my JYA alma mater, U of Bristol--woo hoo!) who's here to teach them how to do well on the exam by...lying. They must approach essay questions through the back door--or better yet the side door, he says. Dakin, the hotshot student having an affair with the school secretary and beginning to fancy a walk on the other side with Irwin himself, takes a liking to this right away--it's like a game. You just figure out what's not true and argue that. It's a little like crack theories in fandom, which of course is the danger. If you know what you're doing crack theories can be fun, but every day you see earnest fandomers who don't know they're arguing a crack theory and believe that if they thought it up, it must be true.
Anyway, it's not quite so simple as Hector being the wonderful "real" teacher and Irwin being a slick huckster. Hector himself has his own agenda. He hates Oxbridge and would like to see real learning separated entirely from education, so his kids wind up holding themselves back on tests thinking that anything but the boring party line should be saved for his class. Hector also teaches them to memorize songs and bits of old movies (the boys do reenactments of "Now, Voyager" and "Brief Encouter" that are so hilarious--not only does the one boy talk like Bette Davis, he shoulder-walks and smokes like her too). Not that this goes against Irwin's own plan, since he encourages references to "Carry On" movies in essays as part of that all-important back door approach. Miss Lintott, meanwhile, is responsible for the grasp of history the boys do have as their former teacher. At one point she reveals she's not even sure Hector is such a good teacher, feeling that all the memorized poetry etc. is just insurance for his students to substitute for success. Still, there are also examples of the fact that any information is valuable, and learning is valuable in itself. I admit I really loved this one scene where one of the boys brings in a poem he's memorized and he and Hector discuss it, comparing it to other works etc.
Basically all the adults are trapped in this love/hate relationship with Oxbridge. By the end of the night we know where all of them went, and their relationship with their own alma mater is pretty much always couched in how they feel about Oxford and Cambridge.
It's a hilarious play, though. My favorite line I want to mention just because it's one of those great lines that make no sense but that someone would absolutely say. Hector has been given his walking papers due to finally being caught at his motorcycle groping by the headmaster's wife. He's unhappy to learn that Lintott knows the real reason for his dismissal. "Does Irwin know?" know he asks, and she says yes. "Oh god. Do the boys know?" There's this beat of incredulance silence. "Of course the boys know!" It's so funny, yet so easy to believe that the guy who gropes these kids thinks he's somehow keeping it a secret from them as long as they don't hear it from anyone else.
There was one unintentionally chilling line for me at the end, when we learn the fates of the boys in question. One of them, we know, went to Cambridge but flunked out. We learn later he lived alone, got a monthly allowance and had periodic breakdowns (this is of course the boy who really learned everything Hector was teaching and remembered all these events). He has lots of friends, we learn, but...only on the Internet.
Damn. Why does that always have to be some shorthand for failing at life? I mean, I can't really argue with the idea it comes from. The Internet can offer a form of social interaction for people incapable of other sorts--it's more controlled in so many ways. It's not like plenty of people on lj haven't been open about things about themselves that others might judge as "failure." Fandom culture seems to sometimes be constantly fighting its own battle of denial, trying to prove it's not like those losers who interact on the Internet all day! Still it's chilling to realize that that last line about the Internet is actually the nail in the character's coffin--you can imagine him as just kind of eccentric or something until the Internet friends slam him firmly into Pathetic-ville. It's pretty sad that I'm hearing that, getting it, feeling bad and also sitting in my seat reminding myself of every real-life social interaction I've had in the past month. I've got real friends! I think I'm okay!
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no subject
By the by, what did you think of the scene where Hector actually flips out in class? I have never heard a theatre go so dead silent in my life -- talk about hearing a pin drop.
From:
no subject
Apparently recently there were some idiots--all in the same family of four--who did not turn off their cell phones during the show at the announcement. Richard Griffiths stopped the show and told them to turn them off after the fourth ring--and an usher kicked them out. Yay! That was during a matinee, I heard.:-)
From:
no subject
"It is the most shattering experience of a young man's life when one morning he awakes and quite reasonably says to himself, 'I will never play the Dane.' When that moment comes, one's ambition ceases."
And
"I think the carrot infinitely more fascinating than the geranium. The carrot has mystery. Flowers are essentially tarts, prostitutes for the bees. There is, you will agree, a certain je ne sai quoi, something very special, about a firm, young carrot."
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I can't wait for the film either.
It's an astonishing moment - both because of Hector's distress, but also because I imagine that everyone in the audience can sympathise with how embarrassed the boys must be.
Talking of visceral reactions, the Headmaster makes me shudder; "There's passion there, or, as I prefer to call it, commitment." It's such a killer line.
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He has lots of friends, we learn, but...only on the Internet. Damn. Why does that always have to be some shorthand for failing at life?
...It's pretty sad that I'm hearing that, getting it, feeling bad and also sitting in my seat reminding myself of every real-life social interaction I've had in the past month. I've got real friends! I think I'm okay!
It's a very pernicious stereotype, with more than a bit of truth to it in my experience. There's definitely a schism of sorts between online interactions and "meatspace" ones – the latter are taken far more seriously and carry more weight. My offline friends DO take the piss out of me for having an LJ and allotting a certain amount of time and attention to online interaction; I sometimes have to remind them that the people at the other end of the electrons & wires are, in fact, human beings and not figments of the imagination.
I've also found that internet "friendships" can be deceptive, in that people seem closer or more intimate than they really are. It's easier to hide behind well-written prose, or just blatantly LIE about who one is and how one feels. So yes – virtual relationships can be and often are dicey, and are no substitute for flesh & blood interactions. That doesn't mean they're automatically hopeless or a waste of time, however! They're two very different things that often get equated...to the detriment of both, I think.
From:
no subject
That's my thought on Internet dealings too. The stereotype isn't based on nothing. Not only have I seen people kind of create fake relationships online or lie to each other, but you can see how it can be a substitute for real relationships. Healthy people can go back and forth and turn one kind of relationship into another, but if you're unhealthy to begin with it offers something to you as well.
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It sounds like a really interesting premise for a drama (though I’m finding hard to visualize Uncle Vernon being all Sirius like on a motorbike (Sirius minus the groping.) Any clash of old and new (educational) philosophy is fertile ground for exploring different sides of a story. Plus a lot of anguish about Oxbridge stems from whether or not you wanted to go there, and were accepted, and the rivalry between the two is deadly intense. I’d be interested to know how much this accounts for Hector’s (and the other adults’) antagonism/choices in what they are doing.
Still it's chilling to realize that that last line about the Internet is actually the nail in the character's coffin
It is sad that it's so universally recognised in that way. And given that it's the newest stereotype up for exploitation, I'd venture to say it might be evidence of slightly lazy scripting.
Naturally any time you get Great British Thespians in a room at least one of them has to have been in a Harry Potter movie
I’ve just been watching ‘Cracker’ with Robbie Coltrane and Geraldine Somerville. And they’ve been having an affair, which kind of brings to mind the horrible possibility of Harry being the bastard offspring of Lily and Hagrid. Now there’s an image.
Good work with the tags. I’ve been debating the merits of doing this myself, but it seems like too painful a process to go through.
From:
no subject
Uncle Vernon does make a very funny Sirius--and the play uses lots of little filmed clips where you see him on his bike or walking through the halls. Hector is just a great character and totally believable as one of those teachers who's been teaching for years. Only you don't just see him as a teacher of students. It's not that the play focuses on his private life so much (we know he's married and, obviously, likes to fondle boys in his free time) but his attitude towards teaching. And yes, it does seem like a lot of the teachers' attitudes are very much shaped by whether or not they wanted to go to Oxbridge and then whether they got in.
From:
no subject
The Internet can offer a form of social interaction for people incapable of other sorts--
Or people not finding what the interaction they desire IRL (I get the point, though, and I think most people who spend a lot of time online, never mind in fandoms, feel that sense of semi-shame.)
But I find that while I have 'real' life friends that I enjoy spending time with (honest! Their names are...George! George Glass!) they often don't think of certain issues the same way as me, so the internet is a wonderful way to find people of a like mind and not feel lonely-when-with-real-people, which is just as possible as the lonely-can't-befriend-real-people net loser stereotype.
I guess we're pretty lucky, since people pre-the net would have little chance of just happening to find someone in their geographical vicinity who shared opinions on random issues, but here, all you have to do is type in the interest box!
I've got real friends! I think I'm okay!
Ha! I'd reassure you, but it'd be online and wouldn't count. Muhahaha! ;)
From:
no subject
You said it! And I keep forgetting to do it on new entries as well.
Or people not finding what the interaction they desire IRL
That's why it annoys me when other fandom people make fun of people for talking to much about fandom. Excuse me, but I've come to the correct social area for it. It's not like I'm going on and on at a dinner party.
time with (honest! Their names are...George! George Glass!)
LOL!
Ha! I'd reassure you, but it'd be online and wouldn't count. Muhahaha! ;)
You're just part of the problem!!