Review on M.Ball / Africana.com
Reviewed by Brandon Walston
The title of Marc Forster's debut feature comes from a slang term for the "party" afforded to prisoners prior to execution. But although only one of the characters is an actual death row inmate, the term extends to practically everyone we encounter in the film. Set in a rural, Southern community where racism is still very much an overt reality, this is a movie where images of barred windows and birdcages abound — as if we couldn't already sense from their forlorn expressions that the characters are trapped in painfully dead-end lives.
Halle Berry plays Leticia Musgrove, a waitress struggling to make a way for herself and her young son. When Leticia's convict husband Lawrence (Sean "P Diddy" Combs) is executed, we understand that it's just another disappointment in a life filled with crushing disappointments. Paralleling Leticia's story is that of Hank (Billy Bob Thornton), one of the correction officers who oversees Lawrence's execution. Hank also struggles with personal traumas, most notably a father (a frighteningly over-the-top Peter Boyle) whose racism and general wickedness have poisoned everything in Hank's life, including his relationship with his unstable son (Heath Ledger). It'd be wrong to give away the twists that bring Leticia and Hank together, or, for that matter, to disclose how each of them learns of and subsequently comes to terms with their "relatedness." Suffice to say that the widow and the executioner, for most of the film completely unaware of their ironic connection, chance upon each other and begin a difficult mutual healing process.
While the material is patently melodramatic — everything that can possibly go wrong in the characters' lives does — Monster's Ball still manages not only to surprise, but to also strike a nerve, thanks to the uniformly fine cast. Who knew that P Diddy could inhabit a role so convincingly that you actually forget he's P Diddy? Or that Heath Ledger (A Knight's Tale, The Patriot) was capable of pulling off a role that called for something other than dull-eyed heroism? And much as he did in last year's The Man Who Wasn't There, Thornton conveys volumes through mere body language, the smallest of physical gestures. In one powerfully effective scene, as he drives on a road alongside a truck full of mostly black prisoners on their way to do field work, you can feel Hank, just from his gaze, questioning every notion he holds of himself and his world.
While Thornton gives the most impressive performance here, Halle Berry steals the show. Let's face it: there hasn't been much in the past to recommend her as a great actress. Despite the occasional affecting turn here and there, she's received more attention for her recent run-in with the law and for baring her breasts in Swordfish than for her acting abilities. Indeed, none of her previous work, not even her Emmy Award-winning performance in Introducing Dorothy Dandridge, has hinted that she could be this good. Playing the least complexly written of the two main characters, she still manages to convey complexity, a strong sense of her character's troubled inner life. Berry avoids falling into practically every trap inherent in a role that requires her to spend most of her time crying, yelling and generally breaking down. Her performance could have easily been something out of a bad Southern Gothic soap opera, but, for the most part, she gives Leticia a rawness that's genuinely moving. All the talk of an Oscar nomination is definitely warranted.
In the end, Monster's Ball is far from being your typical tale of inter-racial love blossoming against all odds. Indeed, the most surprising (and oddly refreshing) thing about the film, after Berry's performance, is that despite its milieu, it's not even really about inter-racial love. Race and racism are by no means incidental here, but rather they are treated as just one of a seeming infinity of issues with which the characters must contend. Ultimately, the film is first and foremost about hard-luck strangers who attempt to rescue each other from a world that's wickedly unkind. There's no greater proof of this than the film's much-publicized centerpiece, Leticia and Hank's first sexual encounter. This graphic sequence isn't particularly sexy. It's awkward, almost violent in its intensity — and perfectly conveys the desperation of two deeply damaged people who, more than anything, need to be reminded that they're alive.
First published: January 25, 2002
About the Author
Brandon Walston is a writer based in Philadelphia.
The title of Marc Forster's debut feature comes from a slang term for the "party" afforded to prisoners prior to execution. But although only one of the characters is an actual death row inmate, the term extends to practically everyone we encounter in the film. Set in a rural, Southern community where racism is still very much an overt reality, this is a movie where images of barred windows and birdcages abound — as if we couldn't already sense from their forlorn expressions that the characters are trapped in painfully dead-end lives.
Halle Berry plays Leticia Musgrove, a waitress struggling to make a way for herself and her young son. When Leticia's convict husband Lawrence (Sean "P Diddy" Combs) is executed, we understand that it's just another disappointment in a life filled with crushing disappointments. Paralleling Leticia's story is that of Hank (Billy Bob Thornton), one of the correction officers who oversees Lawrence's execution. Hank also struggles with personal traumas, most notably a father (a frighteningly over-the-top Peter Boyle) whose racism and general wickedness have poisoned everything in Hank's life, including his relationship with his unstable son (Heath Ledger). It'd be wrong to give away the twists that bring Leticia and Hank together, or, for that matter, to disclose how each of them learns of and subsequently comes to terms with their "relatedness." Suffice to say that the widow and the executioner, for most of the film completely unaware of their ironic connection, chance upon each other and begin a difficult mutual healing process.
While the material is patently melodramatic — everything that can possibly go wrong in the characters' lives does — Monster's Ball still manages not only to surprise, but to also strike a nerve, thanks to the uniformly fine cast. Who knew that P Diddy could inhabit a role so convincingly that you actually forget he's P Diddy? Or that Heath Ledger (A Knight's Tale, The Patriot) was capable of pulling off a role that called for something other than dull-eyed heroism? And much as he did in last year's The Man Who Wasn't There, Thornton conveys volumes through mere body language, the smallest of physical gestures. In one powerfully effective scene, as he drives on a road alongside a truck full of mostly black prisoners on their way to do field work, you can feel Hank, just from his gaze, questioning every notion he holds of himself and his world.
While Thornton gives the most impressive performance here, Halle Berry steals the show. Let's face it: there hasn't been much in the past to recommend her as a great actress. Despite the occasional affecting turn here and there, she's received more attention for her recent run-in with the law and for baring her breasts in Swordfish than for her acting abilities. Indeed, none of her previous work, not even her Emmy Award-winning performance in Introducing Dorothy Dandridge, has hinted that she could be this good. Playing the least complexly written of the two main characters, she still manages to convey complexity, a strong sense of her character's troubled inner life. Berry avoids falling into practically every trap inherent in a role that requires her to spend most of her time crying, yelling and generally breaking down. Her performance could have easily been something out of a bad Southern Gothic soap opera, but, for the most part, she gives Leticia a rawness that's genuinely moving. All the talk of an Oscar nomination is definitely warranted.
In the end, Monster's Ball is far from being your typical tale of inter-racial love blossoming against all odds. Indeed, the most surprising (and oddly refreshing) thing about the film, after Berry's performance, is that despite its milieu, it's not even really about inter-racial love. Race and racism are by no means incidental here, but rather they are treated as just one of a seeming infinity of issues with which the characters must contend. Ultimately, the film is first and foremost about hard-luck strangers who attempt to rescue each other from a world that's wickedly unkind. There's no greater proof of this than the film's much-publicized centerpiece, Leticia and Hank's first sexual encounter. This graphic sequence isn't particularly sexy. It's awkward, almost violent in its intensity — and perfectly conveys the desperation of two deeply damaged people who, more than anything, need to be reminded that they're alive.
First published: January 25, 2002
About the Author
Brandon Walston is a writer based in Philadelphia.
