So despite what might seem like a thin premise, the film has been taken seriously. And indeed, besides having Linklater’s name attached to it, the premise of the film itself has been found to be provocative: what would the notion of a “school of rock” entail? What does that mean for the whole notion of “rock music”? It’s a question Alex Abramovich of the online magazine Slate asks in his review of the film: “How much can rock 'n' roll movies tell us about the state of rock itself?” His conclusion is nowhere near as joyful as the film’s:
“If School of Rock gives us any indication of what rock might look like in another 50 years—and of what it's beginning to look like today—it's this: Wholly absorbed into the nation's bloodstream, rock continues to be played and appreciated by certain segments of the population, works its way into the American curriculum, and loses its sense of engagement with the culture at large. This makes Linklater's film something like the cinematic equivalent of an Irish wake or a New Orleans funeral—a good enough time is had by all that the corpse itself is soon forgotten.”2
So for Abramovich, even the notion of a “school of rock” is a failure—it’s an embalming of something that was once alive. A similar funereal note was sounded overseas for a different reason. In England, the release of the film led The Guardian to wonder what classic rock songs might sound like to six and seven year old children more attuned to the latest boy-band sensation, Busted. Their reactions provide a snarky variation on “Kids Say the Darndest Things,” and the Guardian piece suggests that a “school of rock” would never work in today’s culture anyhow.
To one young girl, The Doors’ “Touch Me” sounds “like Beethoven,” while Robert Plant’s wails on “The Immigrant Song” causes one boy to ask with concern, “Is he angry?” The lyrics are generally incomprehensible to them—while listening to “Anarchy in the UK,” a girl wonders “Who’s Annie Key?” The reactions are mixed, but generally the kids all prefer Busted. The only song they listen to all the way through is “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” although Jimi Hendrix’ “Crosstown Traffic” gets some high marks (“It makes me feel dizzy,” one girl says). But overall, the remarks manage to dismiss songs in the rock pantheon in a very offhanded way: for example, “Like a Rolling Stone” to the kids “sounds really really old”…”It's like mouldy old bread.”3
So has the rock music of days past just gone beyond its expiration date? Or is all this yet another rehash of “The Death of Rock” cries that could be heard even back in 1972 when The Who sang about it? If one attempts to talk about “the state of rock” at all, one runs the risk of sounding as coherent as Dewey Finn when he says rock takes using “your head…and your mind…and your brain…” School of Rock seems to want to “teach” rebellion and emotion—is that just too daft?
Next page: Mad, daft, and off the wall
