"The Last Mile" begins on a powerful and emotional note, and never ceases to come through. In a way, it belongs in the company of "12 Angry Men," but while less demanding, may have even more feeling and dignity--with its singular lack of cynicism and romance perhaps the key to its force.
It begins with an introductory quote from Sing Sing warden Lewis Lawes: "The Last Mile is... a story of those men with barred cells crushed mentally, physically and spiritually between unrelenting forces of man-made laws and man-fixed death.... Society must find its own solution. But murder on the heels of murder is *not* that solution." We follow his words to the tender strains of the passionate "Ave Maria."
Sentimental? No, and not even in the relationship between the innocent Richard Walters and his devout mother, which is both original and convincing. And decidedly not in Joe Berg's incredibly moving goodbye scene, in which he arrests his immense emotional distress to speak face to face, transparently, and very specifically to each of the other men on death row in his last steps of his last mile. Nor is there a trace of sentiment in Sonny Jackson's deep soothing voice as he sings and speaks from both a spiritual and racially knowing place as he awaits, with true poise, his own death..
Of course, the raw and moving break out attempt led by John "Killer" Mears bears no trace of sentiment either. Despite his excessive recklessness, and crime-ridden past, none of his mates--including the guiltless Richard Walters who, having experienced Death Row first hand, is unencumbered by scruples--fail to follow his energetic leadership. For they all know that the death penalty is worse than death, and that even the condemned can speak out in one voice and one action. That they can arise as subjects just as Joe Berg did in the waning moments of his life, determined to stand against human cruelty, speaks of the courage of collective protest.
It begins with an introductory quote from Sing Sing warden Lewis Lawes: "The Last Mile is... a story of those men with barred cells crushed mentally, physically and spiritually between unrelenting forces of man-made laws and man-fixed death.... Society must find its own solution. But murder on the heels of murder is *not* that solution." We follow his words to the tender strains of the passionate "Ave Maria."
Sentimental? No, and not even in the relationship between the innocent Richard Walters and his devout mother, which is both original and convincing. And decidedly not in Joe Berg's incredibly moving goodbye scene, in which he arrests his immense emotional distress to speak face to face, transparently, and very specifically to each of the other men on death row in his last steps of his last mile. Nor is there a trace of sentiment in Sonny Jackson's deep soothing voice as he sings and speaks from both a spiritual and racially knowing place as he awaits, with true poise, his own death..
Of course, the raw and moving break out attempt led by John "Killer" Mears bears no trace of sentiment either. Despite his excessive recklessness, and crime-ridden past, none of his mates--including the guiltless Richard Walters who, having experienced Death Row first hand, is unencumbered by scruples--fail to follow his energetic leadership. For they all know that the death penalty is worse than death, and that even the condemned can speak out in one voice and one action. That they can arise as subjects just as Joe Berg did in the waning moments of his life, determined to stand against human cruelty, speaks of the courage of collective protest.