{"id":6034,"date":"2015-11-13T16:05:51","date_gmt":"2015-11-13T15:05:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.electricsheepmagazine.co.uk\/reviews\/?p=6034"},"modified":"2016-03-07T09:05:25","modified_gmt":"2016-03-07T08:05:25","slug":"the-fear-of-13","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.electricsheepmagazine.co.uk\/reviews\/2015\/11\/13\/the-fear-of-13\/","title":{"rendered":"The Fear of 13"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"The<\/a>
The Fear of 13<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\n

\nFormat:<\/B> Cinema

\nRelease date:<\/B> 13 November 2015

\nDVD release date:<\/B> 25 January 2016

\nDistributor:<\/B> Dogwoof

\nDirector:<\/B> David Sington

\nUSA 2015

\n90 mins\n<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

A fascinating storytelling tour de force and an ambiguous documentary about a Death Row convict.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

A bald-headed man in a blue shirt sits in the corner of a stark room. He leans into the camera, his face half in shadow, and begins to tell his story. The first words he speaks are about time: \u2018In the blink of an eye, you can look and 10 years are gone\u2026 but the next week is agony.\u2019 This is Nick Yarris, recounting the years that he spent in solitary confinement in a Pennsylvania prison. It\u2019s a dramatic opening to David Sington\u2019s documentary, which is also a breathtakingly dramatic monologue. Yarris is charismatic, intense and a masterful storyteller. After two decades on death row, Yarris requested that all appeals be ceased, and that he be put to death; David Sington\u2019s engrossing, if uneasy, film is an attempt to understand what led to that decision.<\/p>\n

Footage of Yarris is mixed with cinematic recreations, often almost abstract close-ups, filmed with a Gregory Crewdson-like vibrancy; in slow motion, a boy runs through the woods, a hint at a dark secret that is shockingly revealed at the film\u2019s end; water pours down a man\u2019s back in a shower; a pair of women\u2019s gloves lie on the seat of an empty car. Crisp, eerie photography of the inside of the prison \u2013 the rows of bars, the cold steel of a toilet in an empty cell \u2013 is also interwoven with Nick\u2019s tale, as he speaks about the harsh, brutal treatment that he and other prisoners endured, including being \u2018tortured with silence\u2019. It\u2019s a captivating performance, full of emotion, as he recounts the horrors of jail, building up a sense of atmosphere by evocatively describing life behind bars, then his rehabilitation, and his newly found obsession with words and literature. <\/p>\n

It\u2019s only later in the film that he begins to reveal the details of his past, and the nature of his drug addiction and the crimes that he committed. Though we learn that he was first jailed for auto theft, the crime that \u2013 wrongly \u2013 landed him on death row is a mystery that runs like a thread throughout much of the film. It\u2019s a story full of twists, turns and tragedies, punctuated by the many mistakes that he made, and also the vagaries and delays of the justice system. And though we learn that he was later exonerated of murder after the advent of DNA testing (although it took years), it\u2019s the final twist that is the most disturbing, powerful and gut-wrenching. <\/p>\n

It\u2019s a striking, compelling film that is incredibly personal. Yet, it\u2019s hard, at the end, not to feel as though we\u2019ve been manipulated by both the filmmaker and Yarris. The vague way he\u2019s shot (and the film itself) is reminiscent of interviews in Errol Morris\u2019s remarkable documentary The Thin Blue Line<\/>, where the location is obscured, lending a sense that Yarris is perhaps still in the system, though the reality is that his ordeal ended in 2003. While his story is an incredible one, it feels like we\u2019ve watched a very rehearsed theatrical performance, and are left wondering how much of this is documentary and how much is masterful storytelling. But maybe it doesn\u2019t actually matter.<\/p>\n

Sarah Cronin<\/I><\/B><\/p>\n

Watch the trailer<\/I>:<\/B><\/p>\n