OCTOBER CONTEST

On Why Dead Poets Society Terrified Me

It was because of a little story.

It was supposed to be an inspiring movie…

The year was 1989, and Robin Williams, along with an attractive team of young actors, starred in the instant classic Dead Poets Society.

Directed by Peter Weir, the movie deals with a group of students who, when they least expected it, get to meet a teacher who challenges their way of thinking and transforms their lives.

It has been 31 years since the movie came up — no, I can’t believe it either — but Robin William’s Mr. Keating remains one of the most iconic teachers in the whole of cinema. I mean, look at him. He shares beautiful poetry, he mocks the rules, he tells their students to do crazy shit, he instructs them to “seize the day,” and has a fun way to teach his class.

Since I am now a teacher, part of me wonders, “Mr. Keating, where are your lesson plans?” Hmm…Still, I have to admit, all teachers kind of wish they could be as effortlessly cool as Mr. Keating.

Yes, the movie is memorable. However, when it comes to my personal life, the thing I remember the most is that it scared the shit out of me.

A Little Story

Now, if you recall the movie's plot, at a certain point, Mr. Keating tells his students about a cave where he used to gather with his friends to read poetry. The boys, obviously, just have to go and give it a try. It is then when one of the most horrific moments in filmmaking history takes place.

You see, there’s this boy called Neil Perry — played by Robert Sean Leonard — who tells a little story.

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. But 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.

Yep…that’s the story.

*shivers*

Oh, what? It didn’t scare you? Let me give you a bit of context; perhaps that will help you understand my trauma.

First of all, I was around 8 or 9 when I watched this movie. Second, Mr. Leonard told the story too well. And third, I did not watch the film at a movie theater, but at home, thanks to the magic of a VHS tape — I think I will always remember the setting.

It was already dark outside, and, for some reason, most of my family was sitting in the living room while I was alone on a chair in the dining room. Given the distribution of our furniture, I could watch really well. But that’s not all.

To my right, and in complete darkness, was a huge window….That’s right, a dark, big, scary window.

As I heard the story, I could not help to feel eyes on me. There was no doubt in my mind: there was someone out there, and, if I wasn’t careful, they were going to hurt me.

The movie ended, and we all went to bed. However, the story was far from over for me.

Another Window

I went to the bedroom I shared with my big sister. She went to sleep, and I tried to do the same. Sadly, there was a tiny problem.

It turns out, my bed was positioned right in front of a window. Yes, another big, dark window. The movie, and that story, were still fresh in my young mind. It should suffice to say I did not sleep one bit. Instead, I spend all night on guard, staring at the window, just waiting for a demented madman to show up and break the window to reach me.

I don’t know exactly what I thought he would do to me. Sometimes, I pictured him closing his hands around my throat. Others, I feared he would drag me out of bed and stab me to death. I imagined someone would come in the morning and find my lifeless body on the floor.

The following night, it was the same. In the end, I decided to cover my head with my blankets and stay like that until morning came. I slept like that for years…

It wasn’t until my late twenties when I managed to fight off most of that fear. I even wrote a short story to try to purge the memory out of me. However, I must admit that a shiver goes through me whenever I walk by a dark window or even a screen door.

So, yes, Dead Poets Society is a great movie, full of quotable lines and inspiring speeches. But, for me, it will forever be the film that kept me from sleeping at night mostly because it managed to do what few stories can.

It made me feel the tale was authentic. And, as we all know, few things are as terrifying as a heavy dose of wicked reality.