The Shawshank Redemption, the 1994 film by Frank Darabont adapted from a Stephen King novella, quickly became a classic for its gripping telling of a man, Andy Dufresne, who is sentenced to life in the Shawshank State Penitentiary for the murder of his wife and lover — despite his innocence.
What follows is a harrowing view into life as prison mate, subject to all kinds of abuse from both officers and fellow prisoners. The audience sees an unfiltered experience of the constant breaking of the spirit that takes place, rendering in most people either a hopeless resignation, especially when subject to the hardened cruelty of the worst offenders.
But the “redemption” word is key, and although the suffering displayed is frequently grotesque, there is a persistent seed of perseverance in hope, as well as a deep wisdom, in the film’s main character.
In his innocence, Dufresne is the perfect foil for his environment. Using his various gifts, particularly in finance, he wins some level of usefulness and regard with the prison guards, placing him eventually in the prison library. He quickly begins efforts to improve the library, seeking outside funding.
In some ways the film’s most poignant moment, for which Andy suffers solitary confinement, is when his pleas for library funds finally results in finances as well as donations—including a recording of the Marriage of Figaro. In a moment of calm rebellion, Andy plays the record and it sails through the dark prison corridors, visibly awakening the hearts of the men.
It’s a profound moment where the value and transformative power of beauty becomes obvious, and one wonders what could take place in hearts were more of it offered to prisoners—perhaps both truly and metaphorical. Beauty cuts through all of the hardened layers of suffering, of our worst moments of violence and ugliness and the worst things done to us, and calls on the deepest, truest parts to again live.
Listen:
It is a moment of resurrection and redemption, and the viewer understands that although it is not a moment that may ever be repeated for the prisoners ever again, that one moment is enough to plant an irrepressible hope in the soul—perhaps enough to keep them from a permanent despair, whether in or out of the confines of their prison sentences.
The film must be experienced, although one needs to be prepared for an encounter with the gruesome reality of human capacity for evil and cruelty. It is violent.
But this is true to its name: redemption always incudes first the death and destruction. In response to Dufresne’s experience of these—the loss of his wife while simultaneously processing her infidelity; his false accusation and sentencing; the deprivation of his freedom; the horrendous physical, emotional, and sexual violence he suffers; the seeming endlessness of disappointments and deferred hopes—he calmly and resignedly fixes his eyes on hope, allowing him to remain sane, wise, and clear-eyed.
In our culture so full of oscillating nihilism and Pollyanna denialism, we would benefit profoundly from more true and redemptive stories.
But for now, classics like The Shawshank Redemption remain.
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