Leaving aside the tired and seedy clichés of the death row genre, which this film wallows in, and the unpleasant evocation of the crucifixion, this film is just plain inaccurate, a bit-part player's parasitic exploitation of her tiny role in a bigger story. What is missing is more important than what is here. Where is the female victim's brother who was a regular visitor and friend to the murderer? Where is Newt Gingritch, where is Pat Robertson? Both actively campaigned for commutation of the death sentence. Where is any mention of the key Larry King interview given two weeks before her death? The overwhelming impression is that this woman had one source of support and friendship, when the reality was very different. It can't even get right the nature of the barrier in the visitor's room, or the marriage-by-proxy, opting instead for the romantic death row ceremony.
This is a movie which enjoys its misery, a pornography of redemption and death. If the book has the same tendency to self-promote at the expense of the truth, then the movie is true to the book. And then neither are true to the facts.
This is a movie which enjoys its misery, a pornography of redemption and death. If the book has the same tendency to self-promote at the expense of the truth, then the movie is true to the book. And then neither are true to the facts.