DIRECTOR/SCREENWRITER
Frank Darabont
based on the
serial novel by
Stephen King
PRODUCERS
Frank Darabont
David Valdes
CINEMATOGRAPHER
David Tattersall
MUSIC
Thomas Newman
EDITOR
Richard Francis-Bruce
CAST
Tom Hanks (Paul Edgecomb)
David Morse (Brutus Howell)
Bonnie Hunt (Jan Edgecomb)
Michael Clarke Duncan (John Coffey)
James Cromwell (Warden Hal Moores)
Michael Jeter (Eduard 'Del' Delacroix)
Graham Greene (Arlen Bitterbuck)
Doug Hutchison (Percy Wetmore)
Sam Rockwell (William 'Wild Bill' Wharton)
Barry Pepper (Dean Stanton)
Jeffrey DeMunn (Harry Terwilliger)
Patricia Clarkson (Melinda Moores)
Harry Dean Stanton (Toot-Toot)
Dabbs Greer (Old Paul Edgecomb)
MPAA rating: R
Running
time: 188m
U.S. release: December 10, 1999
Video availability: VHS - DVD
Official
site
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In
a movie that's terrible anyway -- Patch
Adams comes immediately to mind -- bad, cheesy, sentimental
moments can be perversely pleasurable: they tip a merely poor
movie over the edge into something ripe for vicious parody. On
the other hand, such moments in an otherwise fine movie can be
painful. Instead of relishing the awfulness, we want to pass
quickly over it. The Green Mile, a handsome, well-crafted
movie, has enough such moments to crush a lesser movie -- or,
for that matter, a shorter one. That it survives is a testament
to its intelligence and conviction; it also has enough rascally,
lowdown moments to balance the uplifting ones, which, as usual,
weigh a movie down rather than lifting it up.
The Green Mile is based on Stephen King's novel, first
published in serial-book form in the summer of 1996 -- a summer
I happily spent devouring each new installment and impatiently
awaiting the next. Like most of King's work, this is a story
of metaphysical fantasy wedded to grim reality. What if a hulking
accused child-killer, sentenced to the electric chair, had the
power to heal? The convict in question, John Coffey (Michael
Clarke Duncan, from Armageddon),
had been found with two dead girls, one in each massive arm;
now he has a date with "Old Sparky," the electric chair
at the end of the cell block known to its guards as the Green
Mile.
The hero, Paul Edgecomb, keeps things running smoothly on the
Mile. He's a compassionate guard who takes no pleasure in strapping
men in to "ride the lightning" -- it's a sad, necessary
business (this is 1935, decades before lethal injection). He
reserves his anger for fellow guard Percy Wetmore (Doug Hutchison),
a wet-nosed sadist who taunts and torments the inmates at every
convenience. Paul also strikes up an unlikely friendship with
Coffey, who changes Paul's life in small ways and one big way.
Stephen King probably didn't write Paul with Tom Hanks in mind,
but it's hard to see anyone else in the role. Packing some extra
beef, Hanks once again embodies decency without overselling it
-- unlike his director, Frank Darabont.
You may recall that Darabont's only previous feature, The
Shawshank Redemption, was another Stephen King prison drama.
Those expecting the Kubrickian rigor and plot ingenuity of Shawshank
should prepare for a letdown: The Green Mile is almost
perfectly faithful to King's loosely structured tale, sometimes
to a fault. The movie's climax, following King's, eradicates
any chance of complexity -- a revelation late in the game is
awfully reminiscent of Shawshank. I've read an early draft
of Darabont's script, and he decided to cut a couple of important
bits (a scene or two detailing why Coffey's fate is inevitable)
and, mercifully, the annoying Percy-like lout in the framing
sequences who taunts the elderly Paul. Darabont has a satisfying
sense of weight, a true respect for men speaking quietly and
gravely to each other, but his work here alternates between subtlety
and crowd-pleasing blow-outs; too often, he's trying to out-Spielberg
Spielberg.
Fortunately, Darabont is a whiz with actors, and he gets vivid
performances from David Morse and Barry Pepper as Paul's right-hand
men, the big, soulful Duncan sadly awaiting his end, Bonnie Hunt
as Paul's wife, Michael Jeter as the Cajun inmate for whom bad
things are in store, and particularly Sam Rockwell as the Mile's
newest family member, William Wharton, the kind of wild-ass psycho
King specializes in (although Wharton, a Charlie Starkweather
type, seems to belong in the '50s more than the '30s). Special
mention should be made of the several talented mice playing Mr.
Jingles, the tiny cheese-eater who lightens things up on the
Mile (and in this movie); they're all terrific.
At three hours plus, The Green Mile probably overstays
its welcome by about a half hour or so. Afterward, you may get
the feeling that this material might have been better served
in a two-night ABC miniseries. I also found it interesting that
Darabont makes it easy for us to sympathize with the two killers
prior to Coffey who go to meet Old Sparky: significantly, we're
never told what their crimes were (drunken murderer and rapist/killer,
respectively, according to the book). The Green Mile thus
becomes an abstract fable about men awaiting death (as are we
all, don't you know), without much moral shading. Still, for
that we can turn to documentaries or Dostoyevsky. This is a big-studio
film based on a hastily written work by our great populist author.
As such, it's dotted with many fine moments, clotted with a few
flabby ones. Having now seen that he can adapt Stephen King --
not once but twice -- with more high seriousness than anyone
outside Kubrick, I'll be curious to see what else Frank Darabont
has to offer. |