In the Theater Lobby Following `Mr. Holland's Opus'

By J. Alan Bates

For once, I should have trusted the critics. Heeded reports of "Mr. Holland's Opus" being lathered with more sugarcoating than a veritable vat of Kellogg's Frosted Flakes. The New Yorker criticized it for being a "schmaltz fest." And that was just my first warning. I am leery of any film that even hints of being emotionally manipulating. Films that make a person cry, in my mind, take liberties at the audience's expense. The film that makes you cry three days after you've watched it is the film I want to see.

But I went to see the movie anyway. And with some embarrassment, I admit to my attending it willingly. Several of my colleagues, who had already seen it, told me "Mr. Holland's Opus" was worth far more than the $6.50 admission and gas and time I would spend on it. And since I have the innate tendency to trust teachers long before I trust film critics, the idea of seeing this movie became rather compelling to me--especially when my wife added that we would be seeing it with four of our friends (three of whom are teachers). And, she told me--as though she had to further convince me--we would be going out for an Italian dinner afterward.

I smiled at the image I had created in my mind: of a steamy calzone following the movie, and my not having to pay--for the...