dead poets society. Αφησε εποχή. Αφησε Σπάραγμα. Και μνήμη. Εκανε γνωστό το carpe diem. Το βρήκα κι εγώ ξανά παίζοντας. το μοιράζομαι. Αξίζει.
για την ταινία ... στο http://www.imdb.com/
για το σενάριο ... στο http://www.dailyscript.com/
Για πρώτη φορά εστίασα στο κείμενο του σεναρίου. Πολλά, είναι λογοτέχνημα από μόνα τους. ... Αξίζουν. Ακόμα και χωρίς τις τέλειες γνώσεις των Αγγλικών.
"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old time is still a flying, and this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying." ….
"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may." The Latin term for that sentiment is Carpe Diem. Now who knows what that means? Carpe Diem. That's "seize the day."
Because we are food for worms lads. Because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die. Now I would like you to step forward over here and peruse some of the faces from the past. You've walked past them many times. I don't think you've really looked at them.
They're not that different from you, are they?
Full of hormones, just like you.
Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster.
They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you.
Their eyes are full of hope, just like you.
Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because you see gentlmen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils.
But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in.
Carpe. Carpe Diem. Seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary.
Understanding Poetry, by Dr. J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D.!!!!!! :
"To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme, and figures of speech.
Then ask two questions: One, how artfully has the objective of the poem been rendered, and two, how important is that objective.
Question one rates the poem's perfection, question two rates its importance. And once these questions have been answered, determining a poem's greatest becomes a relatively simple matter. If the poem's score for perfection is plotted along the horizontal of a graph, and its importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness.
A sonnet by Byron may score high on the vertical, but only average on the horizontal.
A Shakespearean sonnet, on the other hand, would score high both horizontally and vertically, yielding a massive total area, thereby revealing the poem to be truly great.
As you proceed through the poetry in this book, practice this rating method. As your ability to evaluate poems in this matter grows, so will your enjoyment and understanding of poetry."
Excrement. That's what I think of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard.
We're not laying pipe, we're talking about poetry.
I mean, how can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? I like Byron, I give him a 42, but I can't dance to it.
Now I want you to rip out that page. Go on, rip out the entire page. You heard me, rip it out. Rip it out! Go on, rip it out. Gentlemen, tell you what, don't just tear out that page, tear out the entire introduction. I want it gone, history. Leave nothing of it. Rip it out. Rip!
Begone J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D. !!!!!!
Rip, shred, tear. Rip it out. I want to hear nothing but ripping of Mr. Pritchard. We'll perforate it, put it on a roll. It's not the bible, you're not going to go to hell for this. Go on, make a clean tear, I want nothing left of it
. Keep ripping gentlemen. This is a battle, a war. And the casualties could be your hearts and souls.
Armies of academics going forward, measuring poetry. No, we will not have that here. No more of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard. Now in my class you will learn to think for yourselves again.
You will learn to savor words and language.
No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world. ….
nineteenth century literature has nothing to do with going to business school or medical school.
Right? Maybe. ….
"Yes, we should simply study our Mr. Pritchard and learn our rhyme and meter and go quietly about the business of achieving other ambitions."
I have a little secret for ya. Huddle up. Huddle up!
We don't read and write poetry because it's cute.
We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion.
Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are all noble pursuits, and necessary to sustain life.
But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. …. That life exists, and identity.
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
What will your verse be?
I stand upon my desk to remind yourself that we must constantly look at things in a different way. You see, the world looks very different from up here. You don't believe me? Come see for yourself. Come on. Come on!
Just when you think you know something, you have to look at it in another way. Even though it may seem silly or wrong, you must try!
Now, when you read, don't just consider what the author thinks. Consider what you think.
Boys, you must strive to find your own voice.
Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation." Don't be resigned to that. Break out!
Ενα τέλος, από τα πιο συγκλονιστικά στην ιστορία του κινηματογράφου.
"O captain my captain" ….
Δεν χρειάζονται πολλά ... Ο κύκλος των ποιητών έσπασε με μία απώλεια. Η έμπνευση, έκανε μία ψυχή να αναμετρηθεί με με τα πιο ισχυρά οικογενεικά “πρέπει”. Και η ψυχή δεν το άντεξε. Και έβαλε τέλος. Σε όλα. Εσπασε ο κύκλος. Τέλος και για τον Captain. Ο Keeting αποχωρεί. Η τάξη επανέρχεται, o Dr. J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D, αυτός που ήθελε να μετρήσει την ποίηση και τη ζωή, θα πάρει την εκδίκησή του. Αλλά δύσκολα πλέον.
Και για το τελος
O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered 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 my 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 bouquets and ribboned wreaths for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head
!It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored 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.
Οταν είδα την ταινία, δεν έδωσα και τόση σημασία στον Walt Whitman, ούτε και έψαξα για το «Ο Captain My Captain» για το οποίο δάκρυσα .. Το ανακάλυψα μετά ...
Είναι αμερικανός, τον είχα ακουστά, έζησε στον περασμένο αιώνα. Ρομαντικός, λυρικός, σκληρός. Το ποίημα γράφτηκε για τον δολοφονία του Abraham Lincoln. Για την ιστορία των ΗΠΑ, συμβολίζει τη δημοκρατία και την ισότητα, μετά τον εμφύλιο πόλεμο. Δεν έχουν (εδώ τουλάχιστον) σημασία τα υπόλοιπα.