The History Boys

I suppose one is always curious about the things that one will never experience. For example, I wrote a twenty-page paper in college about brotherhood in Shakespeare (my focus was Much Ado About Nothing). The topic fascinated me in a way that sisterhood never could, particularly as it pertains to the classic ideas of honor, loyalty, and chivalry that at least play a more recorded role on male relationships in Shakespeare's writing.
Similarly, the idea of male education in England (particularly Oxford and Cambridge before women were allowed to attend) is a really intriguing subject. There are all kinds of novels set in universities and the more elevated purpose of education always provides a romantic backdrop for beautiful solliloquies on the meaning of life, love, and knowledge.

Enter The History Boys. Originally a play by Alan Bennett, it opened in London in 2004 to rave reviews and it scooped up several awards. 2004, you ask? That wasn't that long ago! No indeed, it wasn't -- the film version of the play was filmed in the summer of 2005 with the original cast and director. The play moved to Broadway in April of 2006 and has since returned to London. The film was released at the end of 2006 and I've just gone to see it now.

There are many reasons why I loved this film. First and foremost: the fantastic script. It's eloquent, intelligent, and soulful. I stopped trying to remember lines and resigned myself to ordering a copy of the play because there were far too many beautiful and insightful discussions and observations. Secondly, I loved the actors and their performances. Each main character was rather superb in his or her own way and the fact that these actors know the play (and each other by this point) so thoroughly is readily apparent. It helps foster the sense of camraderie that is supposed to be a large factor within this group (ahem, brotherhood). Thirdly (and here I will stop rather than bore you), it idealized Oxford and Cambridge which I can't help but get on board with. Every time they showed a spire, my heart skipped a beat and I longed to return. I miss it so.

Now, the story. The time is 1983 and the setting is a boy's school in the north of England. We concern ourselves with eight male students and three teachers (one female): the students have tested well enough that they can try for places at Oxford and Cambridge and it is the jobs of the teachers to make them as ready as possible for those entrance exams and interviews. The headmaster is desperate to have Oxbridge students as his alums (thus raising the school's reputation), so he brings in a new teacher to give the boys some polish. His name is Irwin and he has a style that is geared towards the game of admissions -- not only must you know the material backwards and forwards, you must be able to present it in an interesting way so you can differentiate yourself from all the other applicants who also know the material backwards and forwards. All the interesting "gobbets" of things (like quotations, cultural comparisons, or unique perspectives) should be thrown into an essay and called upon at an interview. Now, it helps that these boys have a tremendous amount of those "gobbets" and viewpoints, but the reason they have them is because they have been taught "general studies" by a rather eccentric, flawed and yet much-beloved teacher named Hector. Hector teaches in the philosophy of AE Housman: "all knowledge is precious whether or not it serves the slightest human use." Corpulent and generally agreeable (though he does frequently smack his students with rolled up paper), Hector has his students sing, reenact scenes from movies, and memorize poetry. He seems ideal, yes, but he also has a flaw: he tends to grope the boys when he gives them rides on his motorbike. Before you shout "pedophile" or anything like that, my own judgment is that it's an unfortunate habit of Hector's, but it isn't necessarily a horror. I echo the sentiments expressed in the NY Times review: "'The History Boys' sympathizes with Hector, whom Mr. Griffith plays not as a predator but as a lonely dreamer whose ineffectual gropes are not much different from pats on the back. These whip-smart 17- and 18-year-old students not only tolerate his fumbling advances but also accept them with good humor as expressions of devotion." The students don't report anything, but one day, Hector's actions are seen by a traffic monitor and she reports them, thus pressuring the headmaster into deal with the issue and Hector. The third and final teacher is called Tot (or Tottie) by her students and she's the most intelligent and composed of them all. She's dear friends with Hector (though she was unaware of his motorbike behavior before the headmaster tells her of the reported incident) and tries to help Irwin feel a bit more acclimated. She has a delightful rant as she tries to impress upon the boys the struggle it is for a woman to teach history because "History is a commentary on the various and continuing incapabilities of men. History is women following behind with the bucket."

Then there are the boys. First and foremost, there is Dakin. Handsome, charming, and cocky. He is trying to seduce the headmaster's secretary and compares their interaction to the Western Front -- she rebuffs his attempt to put up his hand up her skirt by declaring it "no man's land." Later, though, Dakin's desire to please Irwin with his essays turns into a desire to turn him into a conquest. Posner, the youngest of the lot, is Jewish, gay, and hopelessly in love with Dakin -- and everyone knows it, including Dakin. Posner sings beautifully and ultimately he's the student we adore because he takes all of Hector's teachings about life to heart. Scripps is religious and serves as a friend to all (particularly Posner and Dakin), willing to listen and then responding with wit. He has a delicious roll to his accent, too. There's Rudge, the jock, who doesn't quite see the point off all this fuss to get into Oxford and Cambridge, responding to a question about history by saying that "history is just one fucking thing after another." There's a black student, a Muslim student, and an overweight one. Lockwood is ready to know how to "play the game" and then raises the issue of the army paying for one's college education. It's an interesting group, though clearly some get pushed to the side in order to highlight the others.

There's a beautiful blend of comedy and tragedy; you laugh perhaps more than you cry, but sometimes you're doing both. You won't necessarily have to Netflix this one as I'll be buying it as soon as it's available on DVD. If you're lucky, I'll let you borrow it.

Check out the trailer or read the NY Times review.