Anthony Woods (Aldis Hodge) is a prisoner currently on death row, having been found guilty of the murder of a police officer fifteen years before. His parole hearings continuously result in his appeals being rejected, and his legal team, led by his dedicated friend and lawyer Marty (Richard Schiff) does whatever they can to ensure that his life isn’t taken, especially because the situation around his conviction are not as clear as they would appear. The burden falls onto Bernadine Williams (Alfre Woodard), the warden of the prison responsible for ensuring that the execution happens. Having been in charge of twelve executions already, she has been left shaken by a recent one, in which negligence on the part of the medical professionals meant the convict died a very painful death. Now with Woods’ date of execution rapidly approaching, and his final request for a reprieve once again denied, Bernadine faces a challenge, forced into doing the job that she chose, but struggling with the pressure of witnessing another person lose their lives under her direction. Regardless of whether or not Woods was indeed guilty, Bernadine finds herself incapable of justifying these actions, which puts her in a precarious position, inciting conflict in her, from which there is very little possible resolution, other than simply following instructions and working through the trauma afterwards. However, the days leading up to the execution are not easy for anyone involved, and as the lives of the individuals associated with Woods, whether the prison staff, his legal representatives or the prison staff, begin to intersect, the impact of such a harrowing situation on the mind of those involved becomes very clear.

Clemency, Chinonye Chukwu’s sophomore feature film, is an astounding achievement. An honest, socially-charged drama that takes the viewer on a hauntingly beautiful journey into the lives of a group of characters that are all dealing with an impending event in their own way. The American prison system is certainly not a subject that hasn’t been thoroughly explored, with many works venturing deep into the life of prisoners and the staff. However, very few are as affecting as Clemency, incredibly stark and uncompromisingly bleak forays into telling a story about crime and punishment, and one in which the intention is less to incite a debate on guilt or innocence, but rather broader themes of justice and how a system can be fundamentally flawed, even if we are not lead to believe one side over the other. Chukwu instantly establishes herself as a filmmaker to pay attention to, crafting a delicate and heartwrenching story about a group of individuals working through a harrowing combination of dread and trauma, hoping to find answers, never losing hope (or faith, one of the more interesting themes underlying this film) that resolution will come through fighting against a system they see as inherently against some more than others. It’s an achingly beautiful exploration of the human condition, constructed by a filmmaker whose youthful anger and refusal to align herself with conventions make this an instantly brilliant work of modern independent storytelling, and one of the most moving portraits of the inner turmoil most face in quite some time.

Despite the quite poignant metaphysical subject matter that speaks to larger social issues, Clemency is a film that is kept at the fundamentally human level and focuses mainly on two central characters, through which the director channels the message she hopes to convey. Alfre Woodard, undeniably one of the most hardworking character actresses of her generation, is given yet another leading role that proves that she is far more than just a reliable supporting presence, but also an astonishingly brilliant leading actress, capable of commanding the screen like very few others are able to. Her longevity as a performer, as well as the extent of her work across genre and medium, made her an ideal candidate to bring Bernadine Williams to the screen – she demonstrates a depth that can only come from decades of work, and her control of character is almost unprecedented. Clemency allows her to give her best performance since perhaps her incredible work in Crooklyn, and afforded her the opportunity to bring the same nuance and elegance to this film that she has throughout her career. Everything about Woodard’s performance in Clemency is magnificent – from her ability to extract every bit of potential from otherwise inconsequential themes, to her incredible subtlety in even the most heartwrenching of moments, the actress is simply incredible. Her slow descent into existential despair is difficult to watch, but still so captivating, and converging in the climactic execution, the camera makes the challenging decision to never cut away from her as she gradually loses composure and surrenders herself to the burden of seeing yet another person die under her care. The anger and vulnerability Woodard brings to this role is simply just extraordinary, and there are few moments from the past year in cinema that have lingered quite as strongly as the final scene of this film.

Aldis Hodge is rapidly ascending to the point where is on the precipice of being a star, and Clemency is the perfect reason why we should pay careful attention to him. There have been many films that have looked at inmates on death row, and the majority of them tend to be relatively sympathetic, but still rarely portray the character as anything other than secondary figure to the more conflicted lead. Clemency changes that completely, putting Hodge at the forefront of what is a deeply compelling drama, in which he isn’t reduced to a prisoner fearing his impending death, but rather a man searching for the last remnants of hope in a society that he genuinely feels has not given him the chance he feels he deserves. The film rightly doesn’t wax poetic on the injustice that is about to befall him – there is a welcome lack of rambling monologues about how society is inherently against people like him, and how he is the true victim. Instead, Chukwu takes a more subtle approach in building a character that Hodge plays with such graceful intensity, where we are meant to empathize with him, not in a way where we want him to saved because we believe he is innocent, but rather because we have seen the vulnerability that is evoked through the portrayal of the days leading up to his execution, and how he suffered in ways that are sometimes difficult to watch. Hodge brings such a complexity to a character that could have so easily been nothing more than a plot device, and his performance, particularly in the final few moments, is truly chilling, indicating one of the most powerful breakthrough cinematic performances of recent years, and a stellar showcase for an actor who is undoubtedly about to become a truly respected performer.

The psychology underpinning Clemency is truly fascinating, particularly in how the character of Bernadine is constructed. This film is primarily a feminist statement in many ways, albeit one less concerned with the empowerment of the black female lead and more interested in her more metaphysical journey while occupying a role of authority, which is explored with a keen sense of understanding towards an entire demographic that is not portrayed in this way very often. Woodard has made a career of avoiding archetypes, and Bernadine is one of her most compelling characters, not solely for her performance, but for what the role entails in terms of the message conveyed. As a warden, she is the ultimate authority in the prison – her word is final, and no one can dare deviate from her requests. The film ventures beneath the responsibilities that come with her career and present us with her life beyond the confines of the prison – whether in her domestic life or her existence outside of her job, we are invited to look into the mind of a very complex individual. This manifests in the central storyline, in which she has to ensure the execution of Anthony Woods, something she was hoping would not happen, as the mental strain this takes on her is clearly a challenge. In the days prior to the execution, she finds herself in a position where she can no longer stay neutral – her entire career has been defined by never questioning the guilt or innocence of the people in her prison, with her opinion not factoring into her job.

However, this particular case forces to abandon this position of objectivity and implores her to search for some meaning, culminating in the brief moment of doubt where she asks the simple question” “did he do it?”. Suddenly, Bernadine is no longer able to separate the human from the crime, something that she always maintained was a prerequisite of the job. Her empathy is simply too challenging to overcome with a veneer of objectivity, which calls into question her own faith in herself, and her belief in the system as a whole. The film does very well in constructing a portrayal of a woman under pressure, forced into a position where she knows what she is doing is wrong, but she has the responsibility to adhere to the commands of those higher than her. Bernadine had always believed herself to be in charge, but now the sudden realization that she is merely another cog in the proverbial social machine makes her reconsider what she believed to be true. Contrast this with the character of Anthony, who is slowly trying to come to terms with his impending death, attempting to find some comfort in what is undeniably going to be a very lonely demise, maintaining that he doesn’t deserve to perish, especially not for something he genuinely claims he did not do. The film does very well to avoid presenting us with a case the side of either guilt or innocence, allowing the truth to be ambiguous, which is certainly frustrating at first, but contributes to the director’s wider intentions in showing the erosion of hope that comes in such situations.

The compassion underlying Clemency is not to be underestimated – its a truly harrowing film, particularly when it becomes clear that this is not intending to resolve the despair that pervades throughout. There is not going to be a happy ending to this film, nor is there going to be some moral to the story, with Chukwu making it quite evident that she doesn’t intend to make some cautionary tale about being punished for wrongdoing. Rather, the approach is far more bold and effective, where the director presents us with a haunting representation of a modern phenomenon and gives us bold insights into the machinations behind such situations, showing the audience a wide array of individuals, all of which are impacted by this event in some way, whether directly or through association. It’s a very moving film, but one that is remarkably free of any manipulation, particularly in the final climactic moments, when a more pandering filmmaker would choose to take a less subtle approach. Clemency is a truly powerful film, a work of astounding simplicity and heartfelt emotion. The performances are brutally raw and honest, and the story they are interpreting is one that warrants profound thought. Chukwu’s work here is exceptional, and through not leading us to think in one way, but rather to make up our own mind and ponder the situation the film depicts, we’re able to engage with Clemency is unexpectedly effective ways, creating a heartbreaking, but intensely powerful voyage into the smallest recesses of the human condition, where the realities of society are so starkly represented.