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While it's refreshing to see a group of young students fully support their gay classmate and his crushes (particularly the devout, God-fearing Scripps, who is Posner's shoulder to cry on), and it is interesting that they willingly overlook the gropings that their tutor gives them (they even joke about being “scarred for life”), later developments don't feel entirely authentic — unless the London suburbs in the early '80s were far more sexually liberated than one might otherwise expect.

Gay fantasy or no, it is undeniably inspiring to see a world where young men are encouraged to express themselves creatively — whether it be by singing Cole Porter or reenacting Now, Voyager in class — and develop a more fluid view of sexuality. While most of the students are straight, they are disinclined to fits of defensive machismo and speak openly about sex, even potential sex with other men.

But American audiences may find the relaxed attitudes that may be reasonably common in the British split-gender school system to be completely unbelievable. Likewise, viewers who found the vocab-enhanced teens of Dawson's Creek to be utter impossibilities will find little to connect with here.

The film's centerpiece — a touching scene where misguided, desperate Hector and confused young Posner (played with a beautiful balance of vulnerability and resolve by newcomer Samuel Barnett) indirectly discuss their romantic alienation within the context of a Thomas Hardy poem — achieves a distilled, bittersweet beauty that is sadly lacking from the rest of the film.

Much like the recent Shortbus, which featured a touching exchange between two gay men, one older and one younger, the scene between Posner and Hector allows the characters to acknowledge their shared situation but not to truly connect. Not surprisingly, this is one of the scenes that was almost untouched in the adaptation from stage to screen, leaving one to wonder what other moments of resonance may have been lost in translation. Posner eventually turns to Irwin for support, and while his advice may be more practical, it's clear that Posner is going to have to find his own answers.

Naturally, the sexual roundelays in the film (teacher pursuing student, student pursuing student, student pursuing teacher) are the pulpiest aspect, and they are given more attention as the film progresses — so much that by the time the college interviews arrive, you've almost forgotten what the class was studying for in the first place.

While this may feel like a shortcoming in terms of storytelling, it's not accidental. After all, as John Lennon said, “Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans,” and the education that the lads receive extends far beyond the names and dates in their textbooks. These men are clearly quite intelligent and capable, and watching each navigate his individual way to adulthood as he learns to question the resources presented to him is the real joy of the film.

Having set out with a premise aimed more at challenging our understanding of education than satisfying our hunger for an emotionally satisfying story, The History Boys offers plenty to consider. Brilliantly acted and only occasionally dipping into melodrama (a standard pitfall of stage adaptations), this portrait of idealistic youths and the well-meaning but imperfect caretakers who help them along their way is thought-provoking, smart and resolute in its refusal to provide easy answers to its own questions.

Hector's favorite case was the subjunctive, which is fitting for The History Boys. Adolescence is a time when anything may or may not happen, a theme that is ultimately the film's best lesson.

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