by Chris Alexion, Copyright November 27, 2007, all rights reserved. 249 views
I reluctantly watched The Condemned after a friend loaned it to me. "You'll like it," I was told, since I have a propensity for action-thrillers. Still, as I looked at the larger-than-life image of Stone-Cold Steve Austin on the cover, I began to play Doubting Thomas toward my friend's wisdom. What could I enjoy about a film starring a WWE wrestler and centered around a reality show in which ten prisoners fight to the death?
Aside from the whole WWE angle, the premise bugged me. When the trailers started playing earlier this year, they fooled me. I thought America had really gone over the edge. I thought the brilliant minds of reality TV had quit with disgust the dull worlds of dancing, decorating, and fixing motorcycles, and had crafted a new series in which inmates from death row battle it out for a chance at freedom. I was a little relieved to find out it was just a movie. Still, I figured, who'd want to watch it?
The answer is that you will, if you enjoy action but like to ponder what makes human nature tick. While no doubt some folks will watch The Condemned just for the fight scenes (and there are plenty), the film forces us to ask surprisingly deep questions about our own hearts. The stunts, camera work, and acting were also ably handled. And while Steve Austin isn't exceptional, he pulls off a competent, even nuanced, job as the story's hero.
Here's the gist: millionaire producer Ian Breckel, fed up with network TV, streams his own brutal, uncensored (and illegal) reality show live over the Internet. Ten death-row inmates are bribed away from third-world prisons and brought to a deserted island to compete for the grand prize: freedom. Only one will win. Breckel's goal is 40 million viewers–the same as the Super Bowl.
But if that's all the movie was about, it would be as cruel as Breckel. What makes the film good is how the characters respond to the cruelty of their situation. Director Scott Wiper gives us three different perspectives: that of the prisoners, that of the producers, and that of the audience. None of the three groups is unanimous; the characters within each group clash with themselves and each other as they struggle to come to terms with the show.
The contestants, for example, range from a bloodthirsty Brit (who uses brutality and deception), to the Columbian husband and wife taken from the same prison (who only care about each other), to Jack Conrad, the mysterious American played by Austin. Wiper makes us question what makes a criminal a criminal, and forces us to conclude that not all of "the condemned" are alike and appearances are deceptive. The movie also raises the issue of mercy. Can human compassion extend even to our enemies?
Breckel's crew begins on the same page. In Breckel's mind, it's okay to watch real human beings kill each other for entertainment because all of these prisoners were condemned to die anyway; he's being a nice guy by giving one of them a chance to live. His crew buys the same rationale. But as the inherent cruelty of the show unfolds, both Breckel's girlfriend and his chief technician face pangs of conscience. The girlfriend in particular is adamant: the show's manipulation of real human lives is wrong and can't be justified by Breckel's logic. Both people are forced to take sides.
But the real kicker is the reaction of Breckel's audience. The world loves the show. "Man's inhumanity to man" drives the ratings for Breckel's show. Some object, but the ratings climb higher and higher. And while Wiper's vision is fictional, humanity's love of bloodshed is real. From the Roman arena to the ordeals of the Middle Ages to today's UFC matches, live violence against other human beings has been welcomed. The film's ominous message seems clear: Such a show as Breckel's would almost work in today's reality-crazed TV world. And if it ever does, the problem doesn't lie with Hollywood, Washington, or some vague "them" out there.
We're the problem.
No comments yet.