Dead Poets Society Page #12

He runs and kicks the ball at the goal, missing. Keating

puts down another ball, then puts a record on a portable

record player. Classical music starts. The second boy, Knox,

steps out.

KEATING:

Rhythm, boy! Rhythm is important.

SECOND BOY (KNOX)

To be entirely alone with them, to find

out how much one can stand!

Knox too runs and kicks the ball. Just before he smashes it

with his foot, he yells: "CHET!" ball. Keating puts down

another ball

THIRD BOY (MEEKS)

To look strife, torture, prison, popular

odium face to face!

Meeks runs and kicks the ball with great intent. Next,

Charlie steps out and reads.

CHARLIE:

To indeed be a God!

With determination, Charlie kicks the ball through the goal.

McAllister smiles and walks on.

45 OMIT 45

46 INT. NEIL AND TODD'S ROOM - NIGHT 46

Todd sits at his desk, a half-composed poem before him. He

adds a line, then breaks the pencil in frustration. He paces,

sighs, then picks up another pencil and tries to again.

47 INT. THE DORM HALLWAY - SAME 47

Neil enters, looking stunned.

NEIL:

I got it. Hey, everybody, I got the

part! I'm going to play Puck. Hey, I'm

Puck!

VOICE FROM A ROOM

Puck you! Pipe down.

CHARLIE AND OTHERS

All right, Neil. Congratulations!

48 INT. NEIL AND TODD'S ROOM - NIGHT 45

Neil enters and closes the door. Incredibly excited, he

pulls out an old typewriter and begins to type. Todd watches.

TODD:

Neil, how are you gonna do this?

NEIL:

Sssh. That's what I'm taking care of.

They need a letter of permission.

TODD:

From you?

NEIL:

From my father and Nolan.

TODD:

Neil, you're not gonna...

NEIL:

Quiet. I have to think.

Neil mumbles lines from the play, giggles to himself, then

keeps typing. Todd shakes his head in disbelief.

49 INT. KEATING'S CLASSROOM - DAY 49

Knox stands before class reading the poem he wrote.

KNOX:

I see a sweetness in her smile

Bright light shines from her eyes

But life is complete: contentment mine

Just knowing that she--

Knox stops. He lowers his paper.

KNOX:

I'm sorry. It's stupid.

Knox walks back to his seat.

KEATING:

It's fine, Knox. Good effort.

(to the class)

What Knox has done demonstrates an

important point, not only in writing

poetry, but in every endeavor. That is,

deal with the important things in life

love, beauty, truth, justice.

Keating paces.

KEATING (CONT'D)

And don't limit poetry to the word.

Poetry can be found in a work of art,

music, a photograph, in the way a meal is

prepared--anything with the stuff of

revelation in it. It can exist in the

most everyday things but it must never,

never be ordinary By all means, write

about the sky or a girl's smile but when

you do, let your poetry conjure up

salvation day, doomsday, any day, I don't

care, as long as it enlightens us,

thrills us and--if it's inspired--makes

us feel a bit immortal.

MEEKS:

Oh, Captain, My Captain. Is there poetry

in math?

Chuckles from the class.

KEATING:

Absolutely, Mr. Dalton, there is

elegance in mathematics. If everyone

wrote poetry, the planet would starve,

for God's sake. But there must be

poetry--and we must stop to notice it--in

even the simplest acts of living, or we

will have wasted the truly wonderful

opportunity that life as human beings

offers us. That said, who wants to

recite next? Come on. I'll get to

everyone eventually.

Keating looks around. No one volunteers. Keating grins.

KEATING (CONT'D)

Look at Mr. Anderson. In such agony.

Step up, lad, and let's put you out of

your misery.

All eyes are on Todd. He is dying inside. He stands and

walks slowly to the front of the class like a condemned man on

his way to his execution.

KEATING (CONT'D)

Todd, have you prepared your poem?

Todd shakes his head no.

KEATING (CONT'D)

Mr. Anderson believes that everything he

has inside of him is worthless and

embarrassing. Correct, Todd? Isn't that

your fear?

Todd nods jerkedly yes.

KEATING (CONT'D)

Then today you will see that what is

inside of you is worth a great deal.

Keating strides to the blackboard. Rapidly, he writes:

"I SOUND MY BARBARIC YAWP? OVER THE ROOFTOPSOF THE WORLD.--

Walt Whitman

KEATING (CONT'D)

A yawp, for those who don't know, is a

loud cry or yell. Todd, I would like you

to give us a demonstration of a barbaric

yawp.

TODD:

(barely audible)

A yawp?

KEATING:

A barbaric yawp.

Keating pauses, then suddenly moves fiercely at Todd.

KEATING (CONT'D)

Good god, boy! Yell!

TODD:

(frightened)

Yawp!

KEATING (CONT'D)

Again! Louder!

TODD:

YAWP!

KEATING:

LOUDER!

TODD:

AHHHHHH!

KEATING:

All right! Very good! There's a

barbarian in there after all!

Keating claps. The class claps too. Todd, red-faced, swells

a bit.

KEATING (CONT'D)

Todd, there's a picture of Whitman over

the door. What does he remind you Of?

Quickly, Anderson, don't think about it.

TODD:

A madman.

KEATING:

A madman. Perhaps he was. What kind of

madman? Don't think! Answer.

TODD:

A crazy madman.

KEATING:

Use your imagination! First thing that

pops to your mind, even if it's

gibberish!

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