The Blogg

This evening while keeping a friend company and monitoring some experiments on my computer I happened to watch The Shawshank Redemption . Approximately this time last week, in very similar circumstances, I saw The Green Mile . Two movies with similar topics and the same writer and director just happened to be showing when I happened to be in a home with cable television. If you haven’t seen either of these movies, you should probably stop reading immediately. And then you should go rent them (or at least Shawshank). Hey, I told you to stop reading!

For those who choose to ignore my advice or who have seen the movies but have memories as bad as mine, here is a brief summary of each movie. The Green Mile is about a prison officer, Paul Edgecomb, who is responsible for monitoring the death row cell blocks and administering executions. Several plots run together, but there are two primary threads. The first documents the conflict between the compassionate, efficient Edgecomb and another guard, the cruel Percy Wetmore. The second thread is about a particularly extraordinary inmate, John Coffey, who is innocent of the double murder for which he was convicted and who has a supernatural gift to remove illness from people and animals. The primary character of The Shawshank Redemption is Andy Dufresne who, like Coffey, is wrongly convicted of a double homicide. The story follows his life from trial to eventual escape, focusing on his relationships with other prisoners and prison staff.

There are quite a few poignant moments in both films, but what really caught me this evening was the character of Brooks Hatlen, an elderly inmate who serves as the prison librarian before he is paroled after 50 years of time served. When he becomes aware that he will be paroled, Brooks tries to remain a convict by assaulting another inmate, confusing most of the people around him. After his parole he is given a new suit and a briefcase of his belongings. After 50 years any friends he may have had before his conviction have either forgotten him or died, and he wanders the streets confused and frightened by the changes that have taken place while he was serving his sentence and the openness that surrounds him. At an age of at least 70, he must take a job bagging groceries to support himself, and arthritis leaves him ill-equipped for the job. After considering different means of getting back into prison, Brooks writes that he is “tired of being afraid all the time” and hangs himself in the halfway house where he had been living.

Of course, the movies have much more substance than that. Shawshank ends with another prisoner paroled after many years who nearly follows the same path as Brooks but is redeemed by the spark of hope placed within his soul by Andy. The prison inmates are transfixed by the sounds of a Mozart aria at one point, and I do believe music can reach into a special part of the soul beyond any hardness of heart. In The Green Mile, Edgecomb must preside over the executions of inmates whom he knows to be harmless, and who he might even consider friends. Through both movies, the senseless cruelty and viciousness of most of the prison guards is enough to foment outrage in anyone. It would be nice to assume this type of behavior is simply a hollywood exaggeration, but I am afraid this is not the case. Psychological experiments such as the Stanford Prison Experiment and Milgram’s Experiments demonstrate a chilling side of the human personality that is difficult to believe and impossible to accept.

One of the strange things I’ve learned from my fiance, Rachel, is that for some people crying can be a necessary periodic release, regardless of emotional state. In times like this, I feel like it might be really nice to cry, but it seems I don’t know how. It is remarkable how different genders can be. I feel sad for the fictional character of Brooks, for all people who grow old and find themselves alone, left behind by the world, and for convicts around the world who are slowly forgetting their humanity. I am angry at the unnecessary suffering, the prison rapes that are overlooked, the cruelty that is deemed necessary for the job or somehow deserved. I am awed by the power of hope, or music, of film to move me. I am lonely, having not seen Rachel for several weeks, including both Valentine’s Day and her birthday, because of her strict schedule. Too many emotions for someone who is rarely emotional.

I am not generally much of a drinker, but it seemed appropriate for the mood I am in. I intended to write much more about this and perhaps complete my evening of disillusionment with the criminal justice system by listening to the soundtrack of the musical adaptation of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables , but unfortunately it seems the Irish Cream in my hot chocolate is getting to me, as my eyelids seem significantly heavier than usual. I don’t expect to have an easy time falling asleep tonight, but I suppose I might as well try. “Get busy living or get busy dying.” For now, I shall get busy sleeping.