Every moment of Green Mile’s more than three hours
enthralled us with its character driven pathos. Go to see this fine film
prepared to cry, laugh, cringe, sigh, rage, and gape in open-mouthed
awe. The Green Mile plucks the heart strings and wallops the gut.
Its tension filled themes are relieved with ironic smiles and even belly
rolling humor, but at times, we wept openly, squeezing each other’s
hands for connection and reassurance.
Green Mile is more than just feeling driven. It challenges our
presumptions with themes and questions on many aspects of our mortal
travail: good vs. evil, light vs. dark, despair vs. hope, duty vs. right
action, supernatural gifts, poverty, racism, justice, capital
punishment, death, eternity, and even the magic of movie musicals as a
view of heaven. We came out of the theatre thrilled, humbled, and
grateful.
Stephen King’s serial novel has been superbly adapted to the screen
by writer/director Frank Darabont, who also blessed us with Shawshank Redemption,
another film based
on a King novel. Green Mile develops its
characters and themes within the small death row cell block and
execution chamber of a Louisiana Prison during part of the depression
plagued year of 1935. All of the men in this film are intimately
familiar with the power to kill – the prisoners as convicted murders,
the guards as state executioners.
With quiet dignity, chief guard Paul Edgecomb (Tom Hanks) extends a
bemused respect to the men in his charge, both the prisoners and the
guards. He is a master of psychological manipulation, like a good Uncle
who can charm those around him into doing what is generally best. He
takes his prisoners to their death with such compassion that we can
almost hear the whispering of the subtext: "But for the grace of
God goeth I."
Of course, we expect Tom Hanks to lend his considerable talent for
portraying the heroic struggles of an everyman tested to the limits by
his duties as chief executioner. The delight here is that he is matched
and in many scenes surpassed by the powerful, quizzical characters who
surround him. Even the two essentially evil characters [a childishly
cruel, spoiled guard (Doug Hutchison) and a deranged, possessed murderer
(Sam Rockwell)] are exquisitely drawn.
Into this prison world plods a giant, shackled, black illiterate
convicted of the brutal rape and murder of two white girls. His name is
John Coffey (Michael Clarke Duncan); "Like da drink but spelled
differently," he intones in his deferential, low guttural voice
while keeping his eyes downcast. In fact, his name is the only thing he
can spell. His scarred, hugely muscled body strikes fear into the guards
until he says: "Do you leaves the lights on afta dark? I’s afrad
a da dark." Of course, John does not have to fear the dark in the
always-lit cell block. In an incredibly sweet payoff, John is granted an
unusual request to be spared the dark. If Michael Clarke Duncan doesn’t
win the Academy Award for best supporting actor, there is less justice
in the world of Oscar than in the cinematic world in which John Coffey
has been wrongfully convicted.
The name "green mile" comes from the prison slang for
walking the "mile", the symbolically long distance from the
cells to the execution chamber and almost ritualistically stylized
old "Sparky", the electric chair. The long walk to this lonely
pedestal becomes the green mile because the floor is covered with a lime
green linoleum tile, not because of a literal association with the
greenness of life. On second thought, the movie creates a symbolic irony
here by using this color to focus on what it means to be alive and to
have the power of life and death, something everyone ultimately has,
though few exercise it literally.
John Coffey is not only innocent of his crime, but he also has purity
of heart and a miraculous gift for drawing the sickness out of people, a
skill he deploys with considerable generosity because it causes him
intense suffering. He must sleep in total exhaustion after each use of
his power. As a practitioner of this magic art, he exudes a special
poignancy because with his huge heart and limited intellectual capacity,
he does not really comprehend, he just does what he must to take
suffering from others into himself. This brief description unjustly
captures the magic of his action. We are struck that his initials, JC,
are symbolic of the gift of Jesus Christ, whose purity and suffering for
humanity Coffey shares.
Not to put too much on the Biblical parallels, but Paul Edgecomb’s
problem deepens after meeting Coffey, personally experiencing the
magical healing, and knowing that Coffey is the most pure man he will
ever meet. Paul, an executioner, a sort of persecutor like the Biblical
Paul, must live a life worthy of the blessing he derived from knowing
Coffey. Both Pauls find that in having known and loved someone of such
power and goodness, life becomes a kind of prison from which relief in
death and reunification becomes a strong desire. We were touched by the
depth of suffering Paul manages to bear with sweetness. We are humbled
in realizing that sometimes great gifts come at great price.
You should be forewarned that this movie spares no detail in gruesome
aspects of execution by electrocution. First, every execution is
rehearsed with almost macabre, ritualistic formality. Second, the
executions are carried out in church like ritual. The victim is strapped
into a polished, high-back chair surrounded by guards who recant the same
words like priests. Facing the electric chair are rows of chairs for the
witnesses, including the murder victim’s family. They sit like a
congregation facing the altar.
The first execution has a kind of horrible dignity, as the prisoner
is fairly quickly rendered unconscious and then killed by the huge jolt
of electricity. The second is pure terror because the cruel guard has
altered the procedure.
Such scenes drew us closer as we took comfort in holding each other,
and yet we did not close our eyes. We were witnessing a gruesome
reality blended with overtones of almost sacred dignity as if we were at
an event reminiscent of the crucifixion. The power of these scenes comes
from their integration with the themes of the film, and not from the
opportunity for gratuitous thrill or disgust. We were made better and
stronger, and perhaps a bit purer for being brought into this experience
together.
We do not have a fixed opinion on capital punishment per se.
Certainly, after seeing this movie, most would join us in opposing any
use of electrocution. However, the movie does not let us off so easily.
Though the executions are solemn and horrible, within the context of the
story, they are also the opportunity by which some come to genuine
repentance for the wrongs they’ve done. In facing their executions,
they gain their greatest dignity.
The difficult dilemma of capital punishment is taken to another level
when the story maneuvers into a killing that is welcome, just, and
cheered because the truly evil heart of the victim is exposed not just
by the victim’s actions but by the certainty of a divine revelation.
In contrast, in the scheduled executions, the victim is either guilty
but repentant or not guilty at all.
Craig, who has been a lawyer, has little faith in the court system
to dispense objective justice. He does not necessarily oppose execution
when there is certainty of guilt and an evil heart, but how can we be
certain when the process of trial so rarely deals in factual truth, much
less the state of another’s soul?
The Green Mile has the integrity of all true drama by presenting
different aspects of a question in the lives of the characters without
necessarily giving a clear answer. Every viewer will undoubtedly be
inspired to consider and reconsider the numerous issues the film raises.
We could share more with you, but this story defies further
discussion because it begs to be seen, savored, discussed, remembered,
and dwelt upon. Do not fear the gruesome aspects of this film. Do not
shun its length. It will reward you as films rarely do.
With heart-felt enthusiasm, we thank every person involved with the
making of this awesome film.
