
Anti-death penalty, Herzog's approach is to look at the inhumanness of man-on-man murder regardless of the circumstances. There is no question that the film's two subjects are guilty. What is questionable is if the system is going about punishing them the right way. Frequently showing us the scene of an empty room prepped up for lethal injections, Herzog presents a former death row officer who had to eventually quit his job for the physical and psychological damage it was causing to his body (imagine getting to know a person you'd have to tie up to be executed a few hours later). Killing people on a weekly basis, he implies, gets tiresome.
Speaking with the families of the victims, Herzog goes for full-on emotional gravitas, having some of the interviewees display framed photos of their deceased loved ones as they recollect. This is powerful stuff, and it feels equal parts confessional and theater; a brother of one of the victims displays photos of his deceased kin as he starts to break down and weep. Is this response forced directorial manipulation? Maybe a little, but Herzog isn't going for false emotional responses. A sister that he interviews has been through more family disasters than one could ever imagine, and Herzog, although documenting it, does not take advantage. One thing I wished he would have delved deeper into is the question of why she feels justification in having one of the criminals executed and the other locked up for life. Does she not see the two men's involvement in the crime as equal?
An interesting inclusion is the time spent with members of the criminal's family (notably Mr. Burkett's). A regretful father also incarcerated for many years due to drugs, alcohol, and bad life decisions, reflects on being allowed to have a holiday dinner with his family before he and his son were handcuffed together, packed onto a bus, and sent back to their respective prisons. Being handcuffed to his child, criminal to criminal, is his lowest memory. Herzog later speaks with the wife of the life sentenced inmate, and boy, does she have some fascinating stories to tell. Even though claiming not to be one, she is a criminal groupie, obsessed with the enigmatic presence of a man she will never get to take inside her. And yet, she is pregnant with his child. How did this occur? Herzog is as amused with the possibilities as we are.
Told in a series of chapters, Into the Abyss' most memorable image is right at the beginning. Showing us a state-run cemetery for those unable to afford a grave site, the moment is sad and yet peaceful, and it takes on extra meaning when the aforementioned death row officer explains to us the term, "live your dash." On the gravestone, you see, is nothing more than the deceased person's date of birth and their date of expiration. In between these two specific years is a dash, indicating the years in which they lived. As we go through our lives, we are just living the dash, and hopefully we make the most of it. Whether your interpret this as inspirational or pessimistic makes no difference. The dash between Into the Abyss' heavy start and end point is food-for-thought for all.
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