As readers are doubtlessly tired of reading, classes at my school resumed last Wednesday, 16 August 2023.  Today marks the first full week of classes, which means that we’ll all be settling into a typical school year routine quite soon.

Modern education, like any institution, creates its own culture, complete with its own rituals, milestones, rites of passage, “canon events,” and the like.  These are all quite familiar to anyone who has attended a public or private school in the United States (and I imagine my British readers have similar milestones):  surviving exam week; reciting the Pledge of Allegiance; finding your table in the cafeteria; attending the dance; celebrating homecoming; attending football games; buying back-to-school clothes and supplies; graduating; etc., etc.  In the midst of these and other events, students (and teachers) live in, create, and adapt to an ever-changing school culture, the petite dramas—the successes and failures, the triumphs and tribulations—of their lives playing out amid hormones and deadlines.

Naturally, compulsory education provides many ripe fields for reaping and sowing narrative stories.  Just a school year has its own rhythm and tempo, so do good stories follow certain “beats,” so it’s only natural that screenwriters find ample storytelling fodder in school.  It’s also relatable, as virtually every American has, at one point or another, darkened the door of a classroom, and has enjoyed and/or endured the complicated thickets of modern education.

There are many excellent examples of films that deal with schooling.  There are also many terrible ones, as anyone who ever watched melodramatic WB teen shows in the early 2000s can attest.  Some of the real gems range from the dramatic—To Sir, with Love (1967)—to the ludicrously funny—Billy Madison (1995).

This week, I’m looking at one on the “ludicrously funny” end of the drama-to-comedy axis, but closer to “good, but not great” on the terrible-to-excellent axis:  the 1986 Rodney Dangerfield vehicle Back to School.

My brother and I watched this classic, a staple of mid-1990s weekend cable television, during my visit to him in Indianapolis.  For some reason, it popped into my head that I wanted to watch it, and I couldn’t quite remember why Rodney Dangerfield’s character, blustering plus-size clothing tycoon Thornton Melon, ended up back at college.  Was it a Billy Madison-esque situation?

Not quite:  the film opens establishing Thornton Meloni—who Anglicizes his name to “Melon”—is the successful proprietor of a chain of plus-size clothing stores, hilariously called “Tall and Fat.”  One of the best moments early in the film is Melon’s commercial for his store, which includes some of my favorite fat jokes (“when you make love, do you have to give directions?”):

But I digress:  Melon enrolls in Grand Lakes University because his son, Jason Melon, is struggling in school and is generally unhappy with college life.  The elder Melon decides to enroll at GLU in order to go through the hard work with his son, and to encourage him to stick with it.  Jason points out Thornton’s own lack of education, and Thornton expresses that he succeeded in spite of it, saying, “An education is one thing no one can ever take away from you.”

Of course, in order for a dropout to enroll at a distinguished institution of higher learning, Thornton has to grease the skids, and donates a massive sum of money (never revealed, but the college president says, “It was a very large check”) to build a new school of business.  That gets him in, and hilarity ensues.

Naturally, Rodney Dangerfield brings his lightning fast insult comedy to the character of Thornton Melon, who immediately becomes the life of the never-ending college party.  He hires teams of experts to write his essays and complete his assignments, much to the chagrin of his son.  Thornton also makes moves on his attractive English professor, Diane Turner, the quasi-girlfriend of the aloof and imperious dean of the business school.  The business school dean possesses a deep loathing for the loutish elder Melon, especially after Thornton points out (correctly) all the shortcomings with the professor’s assignment to build a factory.

While Thornton steals the show, Jason has his own struggles.  He desperately wants to get onto the diving team, and develops a crush on Valerie Desmond.  The two start dating, which puts Jason at odds with the captain of the diving team, the typical 1980s blonde villain (played by William Zabka, the same actor who portrayed the villainous bully in 1984’s The Karate Kid).  Jason ultimately does land a spot on the team because the coach recognizes his talents, but the other team members think it’s because Thornton has bought Jason a spot on the team.

Jason’s part of the story is not nearly as interesting as Thornton’s, but who could really stack up to Rodney Dangerfield?  The main tension between the two stems from Jason’s desire to prove he can do it on his own, without his father’s well-intentioned-but-misguided intervention.  Thornton’s arc is more compelling, as he learns that money can’t buy everything, even if Kurt Vonnegut writes your essays for you.

Of course, what school movie is complete without a wild sporting event with a last-minute ringer to save the day!  After enduring a brutal oral examination—which came after an intense, multi-day cram session—the diving team finds itself down a member, and the coach announces that Thornton Melon will perform the “Triple Lindy,” a dangerous but impressive dive.  Naturally, our hero succeeds, the team wins, and he passes his final examination.

This movie isn’t one of the greatest, but it’s certainly a fun romp, and if you love Rodney Dangerfield (and I do), you’ll enjoy this one.  It’s also extremely quotable, with a number of memorable scenes and one-liners.  It’s also fun because of the ridiculous premise of the film.

Additionally, a young Robert Downing, Jr., portrays Derek Lutz, Jason’s campus radical roommate, who quickly throws his odd Marxian politics out the window when the wealthy Thornton builds remodels the boys’ dormitory into a three-room suite.

It is with, perhaps, a bit of melancholy that I write that a film like Back to School probably could not get made today.  Just the name of Melon’s business would be grounds for a studio burying the script under ten feet of wokery.  But there’s something to be said for fun, screwball comedies.  We don’t seem to get many of them anymore, and I suspect it’s because studios are terrified of offending anyone.

Regardless, we can still watch these classics.  I highly recommend Back to School for your back-to-school viewing pleasure.