Dead Man Walking.

After watching the film Dead Man Walking, I felt deeply encouraged and excited. My reaction was rare, to be sure: viewers are avoiding the film, despite critics' raves and enthusiastic thumbis up. The death penalty is not an uplifting subject, nor is execution the model happy ending. Nevertheless, the film presents a gritty look at one person reaching out to another in Christian love, a stirring snapshot of faith in action.

Based on the experiences of Sister Helen Prejean, the movie stars Susan Sarandon as a nun who befriends a death-row convict, portrayed by Sean Penn. The inmate, Matthew, is condemned to die for his role in the rape and killing of a young woman and her boyfriend. His character is despicable and unrepentant, and many of the Louisiana locals look forward to his execution. When Sister Helen visits him for the first time, Matthew insults her, but she insists on being treated with dignity. Her demand stakes out the film's high moral ground, and it wins Matthew's respect.

When she accepts the convict's request to become his spiritual advisor for the last week of his life, the prison chaplain, a Catholic priest, insists that she "save" Matthew by getting him to accept the sacraments. Her mission, according to the chaplain, does not involve getting to know the convict. Such a prescription seems too formulaic for her, however--it merely treats the prisoner like a child who must jump through the appropriate hoops in order to get a prize. Sister Helen makes it her goal to have Matthew encounter the love of Christ.

The nun is not disrespectful of the institutional church, she merely believes that a person must come before a program. Jesus met sinners where they were--in the marketplace, in the fields, in their homes. He did not insist that they meet him in the synagogue after saying the right prayers, eating the right foods, and completing the right temple rituals. Christ's love and attention made sinners feel valued as humans, even when others considered those same folks outcasts. Through the course of Dead & Man Walking we see Sister Helen having the same effect on Matthew.

She has no timidity about preaching the gospel, make no mistake. She brings Matthew a Bible, encourages him to read it, and talks freely about Jesus. Her message is not preachy; it seems natural, given the circumstances, for her to talk about God's mercy and the power in Christ's death and Resurrection.

Matthew, however, is not a receptive audience; nothing in his behavior on death row says, "Have mercy on me, a sinner." As his spiritual advisor, Sister Helen can only prepare him for death. She painstakingly reviews with him his crime, intent on getting him to take responsibility for his actions.

During these scenes, the audience collectively flinches as Matthew recounts, and the camera replays, details of the gruesome murders and rape. The details repulse Sister Helen, too, but she hangs in there. She reminds him of Christ's words--"the truth will set you free"--and encourages him to continue examining his actions at the crime scene.

Eventually the memory overwhelms him, and his wrenching emotional breakdown represents the essence of confession. He still must die, according to the law of the land, but accepting the responsibility and the horrible truth of his crimes has freed him. His liberation is a genuine matter of the heart, a quiet event witnessed only by the patient nun.

In the film's final moments, Sister Helen demonstrates the radical nature of Christ's compassion toward sinners and societal pariahs. While accompanying Matthew to the death chamber, she urges him to look at her as he receives the lethal injection because she wants him to see 'the face of love." Sitting in the witness chamber, the victims' families coldly glare at Matthew while the injection takes effect. But Sister Helen leans forward with an outstretched arm, reaching across the chasm of human judgment, her expression imploring him to remember that he's not alone. The contrast is masterful, the effect stunning.

Dead Man Walking conveys a message that is prolife in the best sense. Rather than show rallies decrying the death penalty, the film focuses on the dignity of a human being, a criminal whom most of us would have no problem dismissing. His crimes are not ignored, and the dramatic last-minute request for an appeal is denied. The compassion of Jesus for all people, exemplified by Sister Helen, is the triumphant energy that drives the film. It's about a great deal more than the death penalty. Jesus modeled respect for all humans as a way of life, not as a political statement.

Dead Man Walking is not the "feel-good movie of 1995," but its intelligent portrayal of one nun's compassion made me feel good about being a Catholic. It's the best unintentionally evangelistic film I've seen in years--an endorsement you won't hear from Siskel and Ebert anytime soon.

Tom Musbach is a writer and editor living in San Francisco.