(Movie Review) The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

Despite its setting in a prison, "The Shawshank Redemption" manages to evoke a sense of warmth and belonging in the viewer, making us feel like part of a family. Unlike many other films that provide fleeting emotions and vicarious experiences, "Shawshank" takes its time to delve deep into the story. Through the narrator's composed and perceptive voice, the movie invites us into the tale of a group of men who have forged a sense of community within their incarceration. This film goes beyond the surface level to explore themes of lasting relationships and hope, making it a profound cinematic experience.

It is intriguing to note that although the lead character of the movie is Andy Dufresne, a former banker who has been convicted, we never see the events of the story unfold from his perspective. The opening scene features him receiving a life sentence for the murder of his wife and her lover, but the viewpoint then shifts permanently to that of the prison population, and more specifically, Ellis 'Red' Redding, a lifer played by Morgan Freeman. Red is the one who narrates his recollections of Andy, describing him as frail and weak, and predicting, incorrectly, that he would not be able to survive in the harsh environment of prison.

Throughout the film, we are presented with Andy solely through the eyes of others - his fellow inmates such as Red, who becomes his closest ally, Brooks the elderly librarian, as well as the corrupt Warden Norton and various guards. In this regard, Red serves as a stand-in for the audience, with whom we can relate. When redemption finally arrives, it is through Red's character arc that we experience it. Andy's example teaches us to remain steadfast to our true selves, maintain hope, and wait patiently for an opportunity to arise. "I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really," Andy imparts to Red. "Get busy livin' or get busy dyin'."

The crux of the movie's framework lies not in its protagonist, but in our connection with him - the questions that arise, the compassion we feel, and the respect we hold. Had Andy been the conventional hero, gallantly weathering his circumstances, the film would have been ordinary and lacking in intrigue. However, the enigmatic nature of the character leaves us wondering. Did he genuinely commit the double homicide? Why does he remain so reticent? How can he stroll through the prison yard with such ease, while others must shuffle or slink about? These uncertainties add to the film's allure and captivate our imagination.

Moviegoers typically seek excitement in the films they watch, and movies with titles that offer such thrills tend to be successful. However, films that explore the theme of redemption are approached with trepidation, as many individuals are not eager to watch a movie that appears to require effort. Despite this, people have a yearning for messages of optimism, and when a movie conveys one, it can become enduringly popular, even if it fails to draw an immediate audience. "The Shawshank Redemption" made its debut at the Toronto Film Festival in September 1994, and premiered a few weeks later. Though it received favorable reviews, the film initially underperformed, with an original gross of $18 million that failed to cover its costs. Despite earning seven Oscar nominations, including best picture, it earned only an additional $10 million.

This film faced multiple challenges. It possessed an unappealing title, belonged to the "prison drama" genre that does not draw a female audience, lacked action, starred accomplished actors but not major celebrities, and had a lengthy runtime of 142 minutes. Evidently, the movie relied on word-of-mouth promotion to garner viewers, and it gradually gained momentum before being abruptly removed from theaters. Had it been given an opportunity to thrive on its own, it could have continued to attract viewers and remained in theaters for several months. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

The film handles Andy's suffering with delicacy, refraining from lingering on his beatings and instead portraying him in medium and long shots. His wounds and bruises are not a focus of the camera's attention, and he is afforded the same personal space as his fellow prisoners.

The spiritual journey of the movie is embodied by the character portrayed by Morgan Freeman. Red appears before the parole board three times, at the 20-, 30-, and 40-year marks. The initial hearing is achieved through storytelling trickery, as the film opens with Andy's sentencing, leading us to anticipate his appeal before the board. Instead, we are introduced to Red. During his first hearing, he tries to persuade the board that he has been rehabilitated. In the second, he goes through the motions, and in the third, he rejects the notion of rehabilitation entirely. In doing so, he frees his spirit, prompting the board to grant him his release.

Red's problem is that behind bars, he is the king, able to get things for other prisoners, but on the outside, he is adrift with no status or identity. This is demonstrated by the fate of the old librarian, who was lonely and lost in freedom. The film's final act, in which Andy helps Red come to terms with his newfound freedom, is particularly poignant because Andy operates from a distance, through letters and postcards, and is viewed through Red's perspective.

"The Shawshank Redemption" was written and directed by Frank Darabont, who based it on a story by Stephen King. The film takes the risk of being leisurely, contemplative, and thoughtful, qualities that many films shy away from. In Hollywood, there's a belief that audiences have short attention spans and must be bombarded with new gimmicks. However, movies like "Shawshank" that engross us and make us forget that we are watching a film are more enjoyable to watch, even if they're slower-paced.

The dialogue in the movie is also measured and restrained. Tim Robbins portrays Andy as a man of few words who remains calm and composed. He is self-sufficient, able to lay low for years, and then surprise us with a grand gesture, like playing an aria from Mozart's "The Marriage of Figaro." The scene of the prisoners in the yard, mesmerized by the music, is one of the film's defining moments. Andy's understated demeanor, his reluctance to reveal too much, adds to his intrigue. It's often more compelling to ponder a character's thoughts than to have them spelled out.

Roger Deakins' cinematography is restrained and understated. He uses two opening shots, one from a helicopter and another of the prison walls towering above, to establish the setting. The camera follows the characters' dialogue instead of foreshadowing it. Thomas Newman's music enhances the mood without overpowering the visuals. There's a subtle touch in the way deep bass rumblings during the early murder are reprised when a young prisoner recalls another man's description of the crime.

Darabont's approach in the film is to observe the story and let it unfold naturally, without the need to enhance or overshadow it. Upstaging is not a part of this film, as the actors stay within their roles and the story progresses in an orderly manner, reflecting the gradual passing of time over the decades. Red's poignant statement, "When they put you in that cell... that's when you know it's for real," highlights the film's theme of the crushing weight of imprisonment. Upon rewatching the film, I appreciated it even more than the first time, as is often the case with great works of art. Some argue that the film's message is that life itself is a prison and Andy serves as our savior. True art always speaks to something deeper than it explicitly presents.