It’s not a new plot idea. Kids languish in an orphanage. New teacher comes and gets them energized. There’s no real plot surprise here, it’s all in how it’s done. And ‘The Chorus’ is done in such a way that makes it seem real and heart-warming at the same time.There’s precious little sugarcoating. It’s mostly struggle, and conflict, with just a few moments of tenderness to make it even bearable.
The music teacher Clement Mathieu (Gerard Tugnot) is admittedly depressed as he shuffles into the dilapidated-looking French boys’ orphanage in 1949. He’s failed at being a professional musician. It seems that nobody really wants to pay to listen to his music. He’s put his compositions away, in a leather satchel, and hidden them in the closet of his bare room at the orphanage. Metal bunk bed, wooden dresser, straight chair. The only woman around is the maid, who is seen little and heard from even less.
The headmaster, Rachin (Francois Berleand), is an absolute tyrant. He rules with an iron hand, and not a little cruelty. He does not hesitate to corporally punish. He has no love for the boys; he thinks they’re all unredeemable scoundrels. He demands they stand at attention when he enters the room. When he discovers a prank, he assembles them all, and if no one comes forward, he’ll punish one at a time until somebody does confess. He’s ruthless, mirthless, and heartless. His favorite disciplinary slogan is ‘action, reaction,’ by which he means that no infraction, however, minor, will go unpunished. Is he even human? Well, they got him to play soccer on the playground, once. And he will shamelessly attempt to charm the school’s big benefactor, ‘the countess,’ even taking credit for the dulcet sound of the school’s new choir.
Ah, the choir. It starts inauspiciously, as some boys mischievously steal the new teacher’s private satchel, and some of them show some curiosity about its contents: those rejected compositions. Our former music teacher, irreverently dubbed ‘baldy’ by the lost boys (see 2 Kings 2: 23-4), overhears them making up insulting ditties about him and the other teachers, accidentally discovering that they can actually sing. He’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to touch the music again. But he can’t help himself. And neither can the boys. At last, something they can do together. At last, a means of positive reinforcement, rather than only negative. At last, another dynamic besides the constant cycle of misdeed, punishment, sullen resentment, misdeed. Now the new teacher has some leverage with them other than confinement, violence, and threats of violence. And oh, do these boys make sweet music, especially the Lead Tenor, Morhange (Jean-Baptiste Maunier).
The ending’s not as sappy as ‘Mr. Holland’s Opus’ or ‘Little Orphan Annie.’ Nor is the screenplay as hopeful as ‘Dead Poets Society’ or ‘Cider House Rules’. Nor is the script crowded with the socio/economic overtones of ‘To Sir, With Love’ or ‘Drum Line.’ It’s sort of like ‘Music Of The Heart’ except here the kids don’t go home. The only moment they feel a sense of belonging at all is when they’re making music.
‘Baldy’ is just right for this role: not overly sentimental, not too full of himself, unassuming, but competent. And somehow wanting for these children what we would all want for all the children: some few sweet moments of contentment.
‘The Chorus’ is told in retrospect, as if recalling a black-and-white world of the past. But the emotional colors of this film are vivid enough to linger in the memory long after the last clear, haunting notes from ‘The Chorus.’
Questions For Discussion:
1) Who insures that orphans are not mistreated?
2) How important is music education in the life of a child?
3) What teacher had the most influence on you as a child?
4) What influence do you now have on children not related to you?
Ron Salfen is pastor of Westminster Church in Dallas, Texas.
