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Monster's Ball
by Rob Waring
This film examines whether redemption and forgiveness are possible
in some circumstances. It presents two characters guilty of abhorrent
behavior and shows the different outcomes they experience. The
two characters' stories are interwoven beautifully on the screen;
some of the editing and scene transitions are alone worth the
price of admission. The film also suggests that great sex can
assist in the redemption of lost souls. (This commentary reveals
key plot details that may spoil the film if you have yet to see
it.)
 Monster's Ball
appears set in the present day, but the film makers apparently
made great effort to avoid references (technological or otherwise)
that would place the film at any particular time over the past
thirty years. The effect is to suggest that certain parts of
the rural South have not changed much: blacks are still having
a hard time getting respect. (The plot floats in this time indefiniteness
despite a large number of product placements. A multiple page
list during the closing credits detracts from the lingering beauty
of the film's final scene.)
Sean "Puffy" Combs plays a death row inmate named Lawrence.
We never learn about the crimes that earned him his place at
the head of the line for execution in Georgia's electric chair.
(Georgia only recently abandoned this form of execution.) His
wife, Leticia, played by Halle Barry, visits the prison weekly,
but only for the benefit of their son, an obese and disturbed
teenager. Lawrence tries to be a good father, considering his
circumstances, and his eleventh hour apology to Leticia for the
bad things he has done, and his admonition to his son not to
be like him, illustrate that he sees himself as a different person
from his former self.
In graphic detail, the film shows preparations for the execution,
presided over with mechanistic precision by Hank, played by Billy
Bob Thornton, a misogynist and racist colonel in the Georgia
prison system. In contrast to Lawrence, we learn quite a bit
about Hank's misdeeds. Thornton never has to act very hard when
he's playing a redneck, but Hank is not your average cracker,
and Hank employs all of Thornton's ample talent. He lives with
his father, a retired career officer in the Georgia prison system
and an even worse monster than he is, and his son, Sonny, whom
both are trying unsuccessfully to raise in their own image. The
problem is that Sonny has a sensitive side, and doesn't seem
cut out for the executioner's trade.
Although Hank despises Lawrence, a black man, he seems determined
to provide Lawrence with a dignified execution. This perverse
form of customer service, in a proceeding that involves shaving
all of Lawrence's head and body hair and then watching him shake
violently while his bodily fluids boil during the electrical
surges, doesn't tolerate any error. When Sonny vomits during
the "final walk," Hank comes unhinged and disowns his
only son, causing his violent death. When you are in the execution
business, sudden death doesn't have much of an impact, and Sonny
doesn't get much of funeral. Grandpa's eulogy is simply, "He
was weak."
Finally realizing that he has been affected by his son's death
(he can't get it up with a hooker), Hank begins to turn. He resigns
his prison post, and burns his uniform. Eventually, he crosses
paths with Leticia, whom he meets while she is mourning the loss
of her son, not realizing that she is Lawrence's wife. His own
redemptive need to be kind to another human being, whom he eventually
realizes is in much worse circumstances than he is, combined
with his sexual attraction for Leticia, begin to dismantle his
racial hatred. At her initiative, he has the first face-to-face
intercourse he has probably had in some time, and then he is
hooked. His secret discovery of her connection to Lawrence, when
he utters one of the most awkward post-coital apologies ever
to grace the screen, only seems to spur him on. He falls all
over himself to be nice to her, as if making up for a lifetime
of meanness.
Anyone who sees the first thirty minutes of this film will probably
judge Hank to be evil, someone who should be punished for his
actions and probably segregated from the rest of society for
our protection. Yet, Hank never confesses the contents of his
closet to Leticia. He never tells her that he executed her husband,
never explains that he caused his own son's death. She manages
to transcend her discovery of this first fact, perhaps realizing
that she is now part of a miraculous transformation. At least
Lawrence, the convicted murderer, had the courage to admit he
was wrong. But Hank seems inclined to brush it all under the
table and move on.
The only thing that separates them, given that we don't know
the details of Lawrence's crime, is the criminal justice system.
Lawrence, having been convicted, is precluded from transcending
his circumstances and earning forgiveness. No matter what he
does, he is going to die for his sins. Hank, by contrast, on
the other side of the bars, can simply walk away from his past
and start over. Both situations seem wrong. Hank has no accountability
for his actions; Lawrence has no chance. This reality makes the
system seem frighteningly arbitrary. Although the monster in
the title of the film refers to Lawrence and others like him,
it appears the real monster is the system itself.
(All this is an ironic case of art imitating life: Puffy Combs,
rap music star, walked away from charges relating to a night
club shooting that led conviction of a protege. Some believe
Combs' wealth and fame played a part in his "beating the
rap.")
One other aspect of the death penalty is implicitly criticized
by the film-the execution's effect on others. It is true that
many good soldiers or prison guards are personality types that
are themselves but one step away from the wrong side of the law,
but we need to ask ourselves whether the psychological damage
done by the execution business is worth the cost. What mayhem
do we foster by training thousands of prison guards to be efficient
executioners? If the death penalty is a significant factor in
the greater propensity of the sons of death row inmates to follow
in their fathers' footsteps, is the death penalty worth the cost
of the wasted lives and additional murders it may foster? See
Monster's Ball and decide for yourself.
Posted February 21, 2002
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