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Dead Man Walking (1995)

A review by Damian Cannon.
Copyright © Movie Reviews UK 1997
A moving and even-handed indictment of capital punishment, Dead Man Walking takes us into the heart of the justice system. Sister Helen Prejan (Susan Sarandon) is a nun working in the projects of New Orleans, aiding the poor and disadvantaged. It's clear, through her discarding of the usual religious garments and her hands-on approach, that she embodies fairly modern and pragmatic values. One day a letter arrives from Matthew Ponclet (Sean Penn), a convicted murderer who's been resident on Death Row for more than six years. Feeling that his time is drawing to a close, Matthew has asked for her aid both in legal matters and as someone to talk to (since his family doesn't visit). Although this is something that Helen has never attempted before (her closest brush with crime involves juvenile delinquents) she feels drawn to his plight. Visiting the prison she is filled in on his case, which involves the brutal murder and rape of two teenagers, by the cynical chaplain (Scott Wilson), who tries to convince her to leave. The meeting goes ahead though and, through a thick wire mesh, they verbally circle each other. Contact is made and Matthew asks her to support his application for a pardon, claiming that he's innocent.

Consumed by internal conflict over this new territory Helen unintentionally speeds on the way home. However the cop, perhaps fearing divine retribution, lets her off with a warning. The implication of this behaviour is clear - she wants to help Matthew, despite the pitfalls that lie ahead. Engaging a keen lawyer, Hilton Barber (Robert Prosky) aims to represent Matthew and portray him as a human being (rather than a psychotic animal). Helen manages to convince his mother Lucille (Roberta Maxwell) to give evidence, sort of against the wishes of Matthew (he has his "pride" and doesn't want his mother breaking down in tears before the panel). In their meetings Helen and Matthew start to understand each other a little better, although he always keeps his distance (trusting no one) while she never tries on some bible bashing techniques. At the hearing Helen meets the parents of the two victims, Earl Delacroix (Raymond J Barry) and Clyde (R.Lee Ermey) and Mary Beth Percy (Celia Weston). She has trouble reconciling their utter hatred and contempt for Matthew with her Christian beliefs, especially that "thou shalt not kill".

The hearing goes badly and the execution is set for the following week. Helen is torn between her duty towards Matthew and her longing to help the Delacroix and Percy families, although it soon becomes clear that you can't stay in the middle. The parents are disgusted with her for helping Matthew, regarding him as less than human and castigating her for not taking their side in baying for his blood. It's all too easy to see their point of view but Helen is determined to aid Matthew, feeling that the Old Testament ideal of "an eye for an eye" is rather against the spirit of Jesus. The tension builds as execution nears, although Matthew doesn't help his cause (of trying to get a pardon) by making inflammatory neo-nazi and racist remarks to the press. He really is a difficult person to like, with his lack of remorse and extreme views, although Helen can see something worth saving in the core of his being. The struggle continues, with Helen in the centre, but she has a surprising amount of strength for such a little person.

Dead Man Walking draws its strength from the performances of the two central characters and the subtle interplay which passes between them. Luckily both Sarandon and Penn are exceptional, each player providing the depth and motivation which fuels the behaviour of Helen and Matthew. As a progressive nun who thinks that she understands the world (yet has never experienced something as fundamental as childbirth), Helen is both a deep well of compassion and a warning against plunging into a situation about which you know nothing. A similarly far cry from the traditional movie jailbird, Matthew really is a vicious killer and an artful con man but even he has feelings and some worth as a human being. Tim Robbins very cleverly uses the grilles, bars and perspex screens which make up the prison world to act as a metaphor for the space that separates Helen and Matthew (or good and evil). Initially the mesh is thick and distinctive, blocking much of the view, but as they get closer the barrier becomes more transparent (until it vanishes altogether). By avoiding mushy sentimentalism the story is tinged with real and harrowing emotion, rather than a sickly-sweet substitute, which mounts to a unbearable level. A fine film and a well pitched cry against murder in all of its forms.

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