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Review Uploaded
12/18/02

1 hr. 49 mins.
Starring: Kevin Kline, Emile Hirsch, Rob Morrow, Embeth Davidtz, Edward Herrmann, Patrick Dempsey, Harris Yulin, Paul Dano
Directed by: Michael Hoffman

There are a few things that will always be assured: death, taxes, and the obligatory “tender teacher tale” genre that bombards the big screen every blue moon. For those of you interested in revisiting yet another staid showcase of a mentor enlightening his charges with a mixture of wit and wisdom, welcome to director Michael Hoffman’s latest matriculating melodrama The Emperor’s Club. Based on Ethan Canin’s short story “The Palace Thief”, Hoffman’s narrative is a well-meaning but stuffy and generic rehash of all the preachy and stiff-collared coming-of-age education dramas that have come and gone over the years. Cinematic ancestors such as To Sir with Love and Goodbye, Mr. Chips to contemporary fare Dead Poets Society and Mr. Holland’s Opus have provided the recycled dosage of inspiration, insight, and a touch of intensity to move audiences effectively. However, both Hoffman and screenwriter Neil Tolkin never capitalize on their own brand of distinctive heartfelt instincts thus giving way to tapping the familiar mines of a cloying and artificial story of an instructor making a key difference in the life of his impressionable students.

Oscar-winner Kevin Kline does give a warm and compassionate performance as William Hundert, the classics professor who also moonlights as the assistant headmaster at the prestigious St. Benedict’s Prep School for Boys. Hundert is consumed by his courses in Greek and Roman studies and has a unique way of conveying his school lessons so that they shape the life lessons from which his pupils can gain some useful perspective. The important method behind Hundert’s madness is reinforcing a sense of pride and responsibility within his kids. It’s definitely safe to say that this particular educator reflects his nostalgic times in the early ‘70’s where a nation was on the verge of self-awareness after the turbulence that previously disrupted the social order the decade before.

Hundert, who over the years has tirelessly taught his boys the virtues of learning and living, faces his toughest challenge yet in the form of wayward freshman Sedgewick Bell (Emile Hirsch). Sedgewick, to say the least, is a handful. The youth is spoiled, undisciplined, wild, and absolutely aimless. Naturally Humbert crosses heated paths with the unruly Sedgewick to the point of no return. And as if you didn’t already see this angle coming, the conflicted student happens to be the offspring of a hard-nosed West Virginia senator (Harris Yulin) with very important political ties.

But as far as these types of spotty inspirational fables go, the results are predictably set forth where the patient and gently strict school guardian finds a way to show his problem student “the light”. And before you can hear the end of the recess bell, all is calm and cozy as the teacher-student connection starts to gel convincingly. The persistent Hundert actually gets through to the “lost” Sedgewick to the point that his grades and attitude show remarkable progress.

It goes without saying that The Emperor’s Club will undoubtedly come off as another stodgy “feel good” crowd-pleaser that will certainly garner raving kudos from a majority of critics and moviegoers alike. Unfortunately, this wooden presentation of a teacher and his ideology for instilling the potential in his students—ambitious or otherwise—is mere poppycock. Hoffman never really gives us an honest portrait of a classroom to determine the actual measurement of angst involved with Hundert’s bunch. For the most part, the kids are uniformly bland in their cliched makeup. There’s not anything remotely colorful or memorable about these bookworm individuals outside of the fact that it takes a distracting force like Hirsch’s Sedgewick Bell to stir things up. The movie’s setting at the St. Benedict’s School doesn’t even have its own resonance while evoking reminiscences of set design pieces we’ve seen countless times in other arbitrary films of this caliber. And the manufactured dialogue feels so utterly pretentious and condescending: “I believe in you” and “A man’s character is his fate”. To quote what a disenchanted Valley Girl might say in the dawn of the late ‘70’s/early ‘80’s: “Ew…gag me with a spoon!”

Despite Tolkin’s rickety script and Hoffman’s rudimentary direction, the film does feature a fine turn by Kline as the dedicated disciplinarian looking to put some spark in an otherwise conventional role. But at times, Kline is asked to inhibit his screen persona Prof. William Hundert as some tightly-wound square with a textbook snootiness. If this constitutes the essence of his character then fine but it wouldn’t have killed the filmmakers to loosen up Kline and make him awkwardly sociable thus bringing out a spontaneous flaw in his personality. Heck, even when an attractive married friend (Embeth Davidtz) shows some affection toward the straight-laced instructor, Kline’s Hundert reacts coldly with all the flare of a red brick. Had Hundert been nervous or comically clumsy about her advances, the audience would have seen a hint of vulnerability that determines this well-informed but stiffly guarded man.

As for Hirsch, he has a making for a fine young actor who can soak up some complexity given material worthy of his abilities. But Hirsch’s rabblerousing rich kid Sedgewick Bell is more of a missed opportunity than he is a missing link. This kid isn’t as devilishly rebellious as the movie would like you to believe. Sedgewick, due to the lame constitution of this rigid film, is reduced to being that of an innocuous rascal. His antics aren’t climatic or disturbing enough to bring home the point of this privileged youngster’s inner turmoil. So he has a flip lip in class? And takes advantage of his bad behavior because of his distant bigshot daddy’s clout? How about daring to show his inquisitive classmates the stimulating effects of porno? Quick, somebody put the handcuffs on this polyester pipsqueak Holden Caulfield wannabe!

Watching the starchy and claustrophobic turn of events in The Emperor’s Club may entice some to regress and instead opt to become an honorary Sweathog in Mr. Kotter’s television universe of secondary schooling. Sure, this movie dares to incorporate the passion and promote the thematic cause of self-discovery within one’s troubled soul in a setting where we all at some point digest knowledge about the world and our participation in it. Although this is notably admirable by all means, Hoffman and his collaborators forgot to give us a sturdy blueprint that expresses this sentiment in an intriguing and original manner. The movie’s message is loud and clear but the entertainment factor and the platitudes it regurgitates are about as fresh as leftover cafeteria food.

The Emperor’s Club leaves you wanting more in spite of its attempt to inspire and parlay its exposition as a saccharine-coated morality play of soul-searching forethought. Guess I won’t be the teacher’s pet because I refuse to swallow the seemingly tasty apple that has the proverbial worm in it.

Frank rates this film: ** stars (out of 4 stars)