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None of this is to suggest that watching Blackboard
Jungle is anything less than
totally enjoyable. Vic Morrow’s portrayal of a sadistic kid, bent on mischief
and revenge and headed nowhere but jail is chilling, and Sidney Poitier might
as well have been doing research for his role a decade later in To
Sir With Love, when he, in the
teacher’s role that time, was far more successful at relating to his students.
But that brings me back to the main point, which is that this movie’s greatest
achievement is to inadvertently illustrate the looming “generation gap” on the
horizon. In its clumsy way, the film treats the youth as something less than
human. They are the “other” and not what we fought to protect in WWII. It is
not a gigantic leap to beatniks, hippies, yippies, punks and so on. As each
generation feels its oats, the previous must take it on the chin. No scene
illustrates this more perfectly than when one of Glenn Ford’s idealistic young
colleagues brings in his prized collection of jazz 78 RPM records to share with
his students. Instead of a Socratic sharing of his knowledge with his students,
Vic Morrow leads his gang in smashing the records and mocking the teacher to
his face. It is a painful scene (especially for a record collector) but
ultimately it once again points to the widening gulf in the life experiences of
those who lived through the Great Depression and war and those who were about
to usher in the modern age.
Blackboard Jungle closes, as it opened, with the pulse quickening guitar and horn driven
excitement of Bill Haley’s rock and roll masterpiece and as the credits roll,
you can’t help but feel for the entirety of Glenn Ford’s generation. In the
blink of an eye, they would go from being the heroes of the 20th
Century to “never trust anyone over 30.” This movie is an important
glimpse into one of the major turning points in modern history.
- Paul Epstein
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