There is one boy in the classroom who refuses to speak. Near the end of the film, on the last day of school, every kid speaks, except that kid (Danny was his name?), and William Hurt looks at him with his eyes ready to cry, and the kid looks at him with such a serious look...I thought that the boy would speak somehow by the end of the film, but no...That's the last time we see him...Why? What did the director wanted to tell us? I think that Hurt was thinking of the horrible voice that Matlin made the one and only time she "spoke" to him, and he was thinking that it's better off not to push the boy to speak...And they boy looks at him like "Don't...Just leave me alone...", and Hurt accepts it...Like no matter how we try, and want to help the others,some things are inevitable to change.
I'm sorry I've only now seen this post, and you, Dreamcatcher, may never see this, but...
I loved this film and saw it so many times in the theatre that I lost count. My husband and I both adored it and directed the play, even.
What I took away from that powerful moment is that the boy has remained true to who he is, just as he is. It is his way of making the world accept him on his own terms. And I think James has finally come to realize that continually trying to force each person to speak is, in some way, much more about him and much less about them. I think that long long gaze is a tacit agreement, apology, acceptance, just everything. So much revealed in their eyes, and no words needed. I found it one of the most beautiful moments of the entire film.
My husband had an aunt who'd fought her way back from a stroke, learned to walk and talk again....and had another. The second time she simply refused to go through all of it, and no one had the heart to force her to do so. When I met her, I had been warned that the only words she spoke were 'uh huh' and 'oh no.' I was amazed at how much tone and inflection those four words could carry, coupled with her still expressive face and eyes (nods, smiles, and so on.) You always felt you had a very long and full conversation with Aunt Reta, and so when I saw this film for the first time, I thought about that, about all the ways we communicate--by choice or not--the things we think and do not say. Language takes on too many forms to count, and verbal is only one of them.
Why I would never see your reply? Yahoo (and every e-mail service) informs me every time someone replies to one of my topics/replies, no matter how old they are!
Thank you for your point of view. I agree with that. Yes, it was a strong scene, maybe the strongest, and probably the more meaningful one in the film. And well, making a film requires a course of choices. What would be better, to see the kid for the last time as we see it in the film, or having one last contact with Hurt, and Hurt telling him something, like, you know, an "it's ok" type of thing. I don't know. The first one was more realistic, but sad, the second would be more "relieving" (for the audience, at least), but a more easy choice...
I saw the contrast between Sarah and the boy in the classroom as the willingness or refusal to come out of one's personal silence. Sarah could have stayed in her self-imposed seclusion for the rest of her life, but she chose to change. The boy, on the other hand, didn't want help. He didn't want to participate, he didn't want to try. Maybe he was scared that people would judge him. Maybe he just wanted to shut everyone out and keep people away. That last scene between the boy and James was meant to indicate that, no matter how much James or another teacher or some of the best specialists in the world may try, there are some people who are beyond help.