IN the Eisenhower era, the twin-set students at exclusive American colleges for girls were recommended to pursue only three jobs.
Teaching children up to 12, nursing or secretarial work and, preferably, they should marry instead, as early as possible to the best catch possible, and devote their lives to being dutiful wives, mothers and home-makers.
Into this refined and defined environment steps art teacher Katherine Watson (Julia Roberts), who travels from California to the New England campus of Wellesley College in the autumn of 1953 with her new-fangled ideas.
This is the post-war but still pre-feminist age, and while Katherine expects her students - among the brightest and best in the country - to take advantage of their education, she is confronted by an institution steeped in conformity.
This is the rarefied world where the poise and elocution teacher (Marcia Gay Harden) tells the gals that an engagement ring on a young woman's slim finger is a bigger prize than a well-rounded education.
Maverick teacher Katherine likes to think on a broader canvas, and so begins this Dead Poets' Society for girls with pearls. Her first day ends in defeat at the hands of the all-knowing, smart students: prudish, hard-faced Betty (Kirsten Dunst); nave, sweet and shy Connie (newcomer Ginnifer Goodwin); and cut-glass, cut-above Joan (Julia Stiles), among them.
Following the Jack Black guide to anti-establishment teaching espoused in that educational masterpiece School Of Rock, Katherine jettisons the text book and encourages the girls to think outside the conservative square, to pursue their individuality, to do more than follow blinkered Betty down the aisle.
Prepare for a bumpy ride for not only the pupils but also for Katherine, who inevitably rubs up against the starchy faculty heads and, less predictably, falls for a fellow teacher (Dominic West). He is already giving private tuition of the most personal kind to the wildest pupil (Maggie Gyllenhaal), and surely Katherine should be too smart and free spirited to come under his spell, but no storyline clich can be left unexplored.
British director Mike Newell provides all the chocolate-box period detail you would expect but you sense there are Hollywood egos at work in the competitive performances of all but the wonderful Gyllenhaal. Roberts gets to flash her smile yet again, not the enigmatic Mona Lisa one but the big, look-at-me number she always parades.
The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie remains supreme.
Updated: 15:34 Thursday, March 11, 2004
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