Dear Our Girl in Chicago:
Pursuant to our deal, according to which I agreed to go see The School of Rock if you went to see Lost in Translation, I finally got around to holding up my end of the bargain last night. What you posted about the film seems to me exactly right–it’s “a funny wisp of a premise played out with wit, sweetness, and seeming spontaneity.” In fact, The School of Rock charmed my socks off.
Since the critic in me is always on duty, I have to pass along a couple of observations:
(1) It’d be hard to conceive of a more derivative film than The School of Rock. Not only does it make seemingly unironic use of all the stock devices of the You-Can-Do-It inspirational flick, but it’s an unabashed ripoff of Revenge of the Nerds (has anybody else noticed this?), only with wonky 10-year-olds who go to a big-ticket prep school instead of wonky 18-year-olds in college. And as you rightly pointed out, Jack Black’s performance is essentially a replay of his role in High Fidelity, though I was surprised and pleased to see that he could carry an entire film playing that clever part.
(2) I felt cheated by the film’s minimalist use of Joan Cusack, the best of all possible supporting comediennes, who didn’t get nearly enough screen time. For one thing, we’re prompted to expect a big transformation scene in which she decisively sheds her priggishness…and it never happens. (The little scene in the bar isn’t nearly drastic enough.) On top of that, the script also sets us up to expect a romance between her and Jack Black that fails to occur–obvious, I know, but movies like The School of Rock thrive by doing the obvious in unexpected ways.
Enough with the quibbles. The School of Rock is a deliciously sweet nothing, just what I needed and wanted to see after a monstrous day’s work (I wrote a Wall Street Journal review from scratch in the morning, then interviewed Regina Carter in the afternoon for a New York Times profile). I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Incidentally, I went to see The School of Rock with one of my cool young musician friends, a singer with fluorescent hair who also took it upon herself to enhance my own coolness quotient by making me listen to selections from Radiohead’s Kid A and Coldplay’s Parachutes before we went to the theater. I liked them both, a lot. (She also left me a copy of Bj