死亡诗社 英文影评

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Answer 1

Dead Poets Society is, to use a cliché, a cinematic masterpiece. I can watch it over and over, absorbing more nuances of meaning every time. As a former teacher myself (albeit of science), I view it as a tribute to the profession at its best...teaching not merely the subject but also the person, and having a lifelong impact on students' lives.

The setting is Weldon Academy, a very traditional New England boys' prep school in 1959. If I can find one flaw with the movie...and there certainly aren't many...it's the underlying premise that seems to worship free thought and implies that ALL tradition is of necessity undesirable and thus to be avoided. Frankly, compared to modern classrooms which are bastions of free expression, I found the Weldon students' respectful treatment of their teachers rather refreshing. (But perhaps that's just the ex-teacher in me coming out!) Some of Weldon's ideals, generally referred to in mocking tones, are actually qualities to which parents rightfully DO hope their offspring will aspire.

Robin Williams plays Mr. Keating, the English teacher we all wish we'd had. He brings warmth, passion, and an endearing quiet humor to the role as he fosters individualism in a school environment of total conformity, endeavoring to teach these young men both the beauty of the English language and the importance of living life to the full, of "seizing the day". How many of us mentally revolted at the dissection of poetry when we were in school? Many a viewer will both chortle and rejoice when Mr. Keating has his class rip out the methodical, emotionless "Introduction to Poetry" from the time honored Pritchard textbook!

The "Dead Poets Society", and the boys on which Mr. Keating has such a profound impact, include an interesting mix of characters...Neil Perry (the passionate young man at odds with his father's clearly defined expectations for his son's life), Todd Anderson (the classic shy adolescent, through whose eyes we view the unfolding drama), Charlie Dalton (the quintessential rebel), Knox Overstreet (the teen with whom most viewers can identify, deep in the throes of first love), and Richard Cameron (the mindless conformist).

Ethan Hawke gives a moving performance as Todd, the younger brother of a former Weldon valedictorian and my personal favorite, who undergoes a character transformation as the plot unfolds. In a sense, this movie is really Todd's story. As another reviewer has wisely pointed out, his best scenes are sometimes when he has no dialogue at all. Your heart will ache for him. The sub-plot of young Overstreet's romance with a girl from a nearby school may not be brilliant, but it provides some light, entertaining relief from the main drama.

Needless to say, Mr. Keating's unorthodox approach meets with obstacles...from his fellow teachers, from the school's ultra traditional Headmaster, from Neil's overbearing father and the other parents, who are depicted as a conservative, status conscious lot. His encouragement of adolescent individualism leads to dramatic consequences for one student in particular, triggering a dramatic scenario that engulfs most of his classmates. I don't want to give the plot away, but Dead Poets Society has the most powerful ending I've experienced in the cinematic world. I could watch it over and over, and tears would either come to my eyes or virtually stream down my cheeks every time.

It's an intelligent film, both gripping to watch and thought provoking afterward. Engaging plot, memorable characters, meaningful theme, wonderfully done scenes and atmosphere...Dead Poets Society has it all. A special tip of my hat to the cinematography; clearly, it should have won an Oscar for the final scene alone.

This is a must-see movie, especially if you're a high school student who hates English. It might just change your view of the subject, even if your actual teacher doesn't quite measure up to Mr. Keating. And for everyone...not only "Carpe Diem", but a certain phrase from a Walt Whitman poem will take on incredible meaning and be remembered forever.

参考资料：IMDB

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Answer 2

        O Captain My Captain - Walt Whitman                        O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,        The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,        The port is near, the bells I hear,the people all exulting,        While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;        But O heart! heart! heart!        O the bleeding drops of red,        Where on the deck the Captain lies,        Fallen cold and dead.                O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;        Rise up --- for you the flag is flung --- for you the bugle trills,        For you the bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths --- for you the shores a-crowding,        For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning,        Here Captain! dear father!        The arm beneath your head!        It is some dream that on the deck,        You've fallen cold and dead.                My Captain does not answer, hislips are pale and still,        My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,        The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,        From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;        Exult O shores, and ring O bells!        But I with mournful tread,        Walk the deck my Captain lies,        Fallen cold and dead.                                                O Me! O Life! - Walt Whitman                O Me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,        Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the        foolish,        Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,        and who more faithless?)        Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the        struggle ever renew'd,        Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see        around me,        Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me        intertwined,        The question, O me! so sad, recurring-What good amid these, O me,        O life?                Answer.        That you are here-that life existsand identity,        That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.                                                To the Virgins, Make Much of Time - Robert Herrick                Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,        Old time is still a-flying,        And this same flower that smiles today,        To-morrow will be dying.                The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,        The higher he's a-getting,        The sooner will his race be run,        And nearer he's to setting.                That age is best which is the first,        When youth and blood are warmer;        But being spent, the worse and worst        Times still succeed the former.                Then be not coy, but use your time,        and while ye may, go marry;        For having lost just once your prime,        You may for ever tarry.                                                She Walks In Beauty - Lord Byron                She walks in beauty, like the night        Of cloudless climes and starry skies;        And all that's best of dark and bright        Meet in her aspect and her eyes:        Thus mellow'd to that tender light        Which heaven to gaudy day denies.                One shade the more, one ray the less,        Had half impair'd the nameless grace        Which waves in every raven tress,        Or softly lightens o'er her face;        Where thoughts serenely sweet express        How pure, how dear, their dwelling-place.                And on that cheek, and o'er thatbrow,        So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,        The smiles that win, the tints that glow,        But tell of days in goodness spent,        A mind at peace with all below,        A heart whose love is innocent!                                                The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost                Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,        And sorry I could not travel both        And be one traveller, long I stood        And looked down one as far as Icould        To where it bent in the undergrowth;                Then took the other, as just as fair;        And having perhaps the better claim,        Because it was grassy and wanted wear;        Though as for that the passing there        Had worn them really about the same,                And both that morning equally lay        In leaves no step had trodden black.        Oh, I kept the first for another day!        Yet knowing how way leads on to way,        I doubted if I should ever come back.                I shall be telling this with a sigh        Somewhere ages and ages hence:        Two roads diverged in a wood, And I-        I took the one less travelled by,        And that has made all the differenc