![]() ![]() It should also be noted that, at the end, it physically pained me to see all of Mr. It was difficult to connect with (or even care about) the characters, and it seemed as though Neil Perry’s suicide was just serving as a plot device to make the audience feel something. I paused way too many times throughout the agonizing two hours of Dead Poets Society because I needed a light at the end of the tunnel. “I Sound My Barbaric YAWP Over The Rooftops Of The World!” Honestly, I was not too fond of this film - similar to my loathing of the middle part for my face shape - but like all 90s trends in a world obsessed with vintage and reboots, these young men and an inspiring teacher wore me down. Expectations, hype, and raves are a cruel game of smoke and mirrors, and this movie did not live up to them during the first viewing. ![]() I suppose you could think of my journey through Dead Poets Society like any trend to ever exist: after all of the build-up, you simply stare at the mirror hating your new middle part. ![]()
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