Politically-minded films usually display a strong point of view. Actor Tim Robbins kicked off his directing career with 1992's viciously satirical Bob Roberts, a film that took no prisoners in its criticism of the conservative right. When it was announced that his 1995 film Dead Man Walking, based on a non-fiction book by nun Sister Helen Prejean, was going to deal with the death penalty many eyes rolled for fear of a didactic civics lesson. Audiences were stunned, however, when the film turned out to be one of the most even-handed, compelling, and fair films ever made on such a divisive issue.

Dead Man Walking focuses on just two complex, real and emotional characters: death row inmate Matt Poncelet, played by Sean Penn, and Sister Helen, played by Susan Sarandon. Both actors bring depth and sadness to these people and make them painfully real. Over the course of the film, as Sister Helen counsels Poncelet through the weeks leading up to his execution, she acts as our surrogate in observing and experiencing every aspect of capital punishment: the horror of Matt's crime (he took part in a rape and double homicide, although he claims to have had a passive role), the devastation of the families of both the victims and the convict, the soul wrenching questions about whose job it is to make this final judgment.

This is where the point-of-view of the film is so key. Unlike so many "wrongfully accused" melodramas, it never shies away from the disgusting acts that landed Poncelet in prison in the first place. But it does discover the complexity of the truth as a journey: At first the naive Sister Helen thinks that she can counsel the man and maybe help him in his appeals. It's not until she is confronted by one of the members of the victims families (the outstanding Raymond Barry) that she realizes just how difficult a road it is that she's started down. Poncelet makes it difficult to fully sympathize with him. His crimes are terrible but he also spouts racist nonsense and refuses to take responsibility for his actions. You can sense Sister Helen's frustration. She wants to help him but he seems to be fighting her all the way. It's only through a mix of patience and confrontation that she is able to connect with him. By the time Poncelet's final moments approach she has only one goal: To make the man truly aware of pain that he caused and it's in those final scenes that the film achieves an extraordinary level of human-ness and understanding.

The film doesn't take any easy paths. Poncelet's racism makes him hard to sympathize (in fact, it causes a rift between Sister Helen and the black youth that her mission works with) and the inescapable poverty of Poncelet's youth clouds the issue of fair justice. Throughout the film tough decisions have to be made and Sarandon expertly communicates the feeling of trying to wrestle with issues that are bigger than she can handle. Penn's performance is masterful for its specificity. Even though Poncelet is a composite of two real-life convicts, Penn makes him a real person. His strange appearance, dead-on Louisiana accent, and subtle mannerisms hide the actor within. In a career full of interesting performances, his Poncelet is something special.

Robbins surrounds his two excellent leads with a powerful cast that includes Barry, R. Lee Ermey, and Celia Weston as the parents of the victims, each destroyed in their own way, Roberta Maxwell, equally damaged as Poncelet's mother, and Robert Prosky as the lawyer whose efforts on Poncelet's behalf are due solely to Sister Helen's trusting heart. All the actors, no matter how small the role, do amazing work here. This is a film that, from start to finish has the ability to move an audience.

The power of the film also owes to the perfect cinematography of Roger Deakins, known mostly for his work on various Coen brothers films. His use of color and texture here is extremely sophisticated and beautiful. The rest of the crew also helps to create an authentic and meaningful atmosphere, from the production design, to the costumes, to the sound production.

The soundtrack is impressive as well. Featuring performances by the late Pakistani Qwalli singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, it achieves an aching moodiness that helps the sense of spirituality throughout the film. Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam duets with Ali Khan during the opening and closing credits. Bruce Springsteen's "Dead Man Walking" also plays during the closing credits.

VIDEO:
The wide-screen transfer looks very nice. Dirt on the print is rare and there are no obvious compression problems. While not anamorphic, this is one transfer that should look great anywhere. A full-screen version is available as well.

AUDIO:
English and French Dolby Digital 2.0 Surround tracks are available. While not likely to tear the roof off the sucker, the sound design in Dead Man Walking is quiet and effective, but layered and complex. The mix of music, dialog, and subtle atmospheric effects sounds great. Spanish and English subtitles are available.

EXTRAS:
There aren't a lot of extras, but quality wins out over quantity. Tim Robbins provides a fascinating commentary track that covers the making of the film, the backstory on the death penalty, and Robbins' own political and social opinions. It's interesting to note that after such an objective film he provides opinionated discussions where his left leaning politics become very clear. Still, he's obviously smart enough to know that the best way to express his opinion in the film was to provide the most rational, reasonable approach and then encourage honest debate and discussion. He lapses into periods of silence at times but his passion, clarity, and intelligence makes this one of the better commentaries out there.

The only other extra of note is the trailer.

NOTE: An earlier release of Dead Man Walking doesn't include the commentary track.