This movie seems to have quickly passed into obscurity as a piece of fluff worthy of no more consideration than a dated 1960s travelogue. So I considered it myself when first viewing it in the cinema, as a contemporary of Peter and the other older choristers portrayed, shortly before perceiving how precious it was to have enjoyed, even on a humbler scale and for only a matter of weeks, a similar experience. One could take such things (films and choirs) for granted in those days, but what a mistake that was: in the ensuing decades, boychoir after boychoir in America was sabotaged on whatever conceivable pretext proved most expedient. They are now a gravely endangered species, as little sympathy as that may evoke from people oh-so-concerned about endangered species of other kinds.
It was a movie, however, which I never forgot. I soon yearned to be able to see it again, and it has been quite galling to see it systematically neglected even in places which purport to specialize in offering Disney movies of the period. Finally finding it, I marveled at its authenticities: the fine music to which it treated the audience; the vocal training and technique which it adumbrated; the power and glory of possessing a beautiful treble voice, such that boys otherwise as eager as any to mature into manhood could shed tears at its passing. I doubt that any such genuine presentation would be considered viable for American audiences now. Surely such an attempt would be trivialized and bastardized today even to a much greater extent than perhaps it was then.
Popular attention is finally devolving, if belatedly and only as an issue of self-preservation, upon the legacy of incompetence which socio-political trends have bequeathed to the raising of boys in the past generation. I commend this film, and the institution which it shows, as one redress whose value, proved over centuries, remains undiminished and ripe for recovery.
It was a movie, however, which I never forgot. I soon yearned to be able to see it again, and it has been quite galling to see it systematically neglected even in places which purport to specialize in offering Disney movies of the period. Finally finding it, I marveled at its authenticities: the fine music to which it treated the audience; the vocal training and technique which it adumbrated; the power and glory of possessing a beautiful treble voice, such that boys otherwise as eager as any to mature into manhood could shed tears at its passing. I doubt that any such genuine presentation would be considered viable for American audiences now. Surely such an attempt would be trivialized and bastardized today even to a much greater extent than perhaps it was then.
Popular attention is finally devolving, if belatedly and only as an issue of self-preservation, upon the legacy of incompetence which socio-political trends have bequeathed to the raising of boys in the past generation. I commend this film, and the institution which it shows, as one redress whose value, proved over centuries, remains undiminished and ripe for recovery.