In the terrific Seattle music documentary "Hype," a commentator observed that one reason grunge became so popular was that it counteracted a rock-and-roll culture that, in his words, had "gone all poncey and posey."
The poncey and posey are exactly the point in "School of Rock," an exuberant, raucous and thoroughly endearing comedy starring Jack Black. Black plays a struggling guitarist named Dewey Finn, who compensates for his innate lack of talent by copping all the classic Rawk Star moves: the windmill arms, the underbite, the 20-minute meandering solos, the stage dives (which when he does them turn into disastrous mosh flops).
Jack Black is a down-and-out rocker who infiltrates a private school and tries to start a band.
(Paramount Pictures Via Reuters)
|
|
As "School of Rock" opens, Dewey and his group are preparing for an upcoming Battle of the Bands, but soon enough he's kicked out in favor of someone with more chops (and sex appeal). On the verge of being evicted from his apartment by his roommate's nagging girlfriend, Dewey impulsively lies his way into a substitute teaching gig at a posh private prep school, where he decides to tutor his students in forming a rock band to enter the Battle and win the prize money. Out goes homework in math, history and English; instead the kids are sent home with instructions to bone up on Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Yes and Jimi Hendrix. Along the way, he instills in their buttoned-down minds a healthily insurgent attitude toward authority. "Miss Mullins, you're The Man," one of Dewey's students says accusatorily to the school principal. "Why thank you, Frankie," she primly replies.
Such is the nifty premise of "School of Rock," which was written by Mike White expressly as a star vehicle for Black. Indeed, the movie is perfectly suited to Black's talents, both as a singer and as a comedian: With his uncanny vocal range and gift for gracefully elephantine physical comedy, he's like Jackie Gleason simultaneously channeling Sam Cooke, Steve Perry and Meatloaf. He's the gravitational center of "School of Rock," and he never shirks his duties. Even during those rare moments when he stops the compulsive chatter, self-interruption and ambidextrously jumping eyebrows that have become his trademark, he rewards viewers with an honest, tightly focused performance. He has some especially wonderful scenes with Joan Cusack as the tightly wound Miss Mullins, who has a penchant for breaking into Stevie Nicks impersonations after a few beers; their relationship imperceptibly deepens into one of those friendships that may or may not blossom into romance.
But Black isn't the only secret to "School of Rock's" success. White, who wrote for the criminally underappreciated television high school comedy "Freaks and Geeks," has an alert and sympathetic ear for kids trapped in the awkward years between being a child and being a teenager. Dewey's students are all grappling with parental pressure, weight issues, sexual identity or some kind of outsiderism, which are addressed in some way by their involvement in the band. (The class overachiever is assigned to be the band's manager, a position the budding control freak takes to with alarming relish. "Why is my daughter obsessed with David Geffen?" her mother wails during a parent-teacher conference.) White's script, while wholesomely idealistic, never panders to the 'tweens with whom "School of Rock" deserves to become a huge hit. The movie's score, by the way, was composed by Washington's own Craig Wedren, formerly of Shudder to Think.
Similarly, director Richard Linklater ("Slacker," "Dazed and Confused") brings his innate understanding of youth culture and a reluctance to condescend to the movie, which so easily could have become as plastic and over-processed as a "Partridge Family" episode. Luckily, he cast real young musicians in the pivotal roles of the band's drummer, guitarist, bass player and keyboardist. (Maryam Hassan, who holds her own with Black as a belting background singer, was discovered during a casting call.) As the band rehearses and finally performs its valedictory show at the Battle, you get the sense that these particular kids aren't just alright (the Who, circa 1965), they really can kick out the jams (MC5, circa 1969).
Fleet, hip and warmhearted, "School of Rock" joins a trend this year of family films that break the mold of stereotypically saccharine product devoid of adult interest. (In this way the movies are finally catching up to such TV series as "The Simpsons," "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," the aforementioned "Freaks and Geeks" and "Gilmore Girls"). Considering "Pirates of the Caribbean," "Whale Rider," "Freaky Friday," "Finding Nemo" and now "School of Rock," PG-13 may give the once-alluring R a run for its money in ratings cachet.
School of Rock (108 minutes, at area theaters) is rated PG-13 for some rude humor and drug references.
