The Ceremony

The inconsistency of a brutal penal code in an enlightened society has long troubled civilized men from the days of ancient Greece to the present era of movements against capital punishment. The Ceremony is a gripping indictment of this inconsistency, and one of the best American movies to come to Boston in a number of months.

Villain of the piece is the devoted public prosecutor of Tangier, who presses for the execution of a bank robber, Sean McKenna, as a bonum exemplum of the power of the law even in that North African Gomorrah. Though only an accomplice in the crime, McKenna is condemned under the Draconian local statutes. As the hour of expiation nears, the distaste of prison wardens, lawyers, and even the firing squad grows rapidly.

Not that McKenna is the picture of humanity wronged. An arrogant cynic, he foments riots in the cell block, insults a priest who offers comfort, and refuses to relate information that will bring him a reprieve. He would rather die than grovel, and the audience feels perfectly willing to let him, even if the mode of death (strapped in a chair before the firing party) seems excessivly unpleasant.

McKenna's brother and girl friend provide the crisis by springing him from prison with a fantastic plot a few hours before the execution. The plot now changes from a moral drama to a horror story. The over-zealous prosecutor turns into a murderous ghoul ("I think the execution of the law upon an offender is something beautiful and moving") who will not be bilked of his prey. The brother, drawing off pursuit, crashes his car and gets disfigured by fire; the prosecutor, not seeing the difference, prepares to shoot the charred victim ("He's conscious, isn't he? That's all the law requires."). Mean-while McKenna, his faith restored by his brother's intended sacrifice, races to the prison to prevent it. A pretty strong stomach is needed to sit through the "ceremony" and sermonizing that end the film.

McKenna is tough, angry, morally destroyed--a typical Lawrence Harvey role, superbly tailored for him. But even Harvey's skillful portrayal places second to the great performance of Ross Martin, late of TV's Mr. Lucky and a madman role. His development of the prosecutor is a microcosm of the film: when it is sensible, he is a stern moralist; when it becomes a film noir, he turns into a monster.

Harvey produced and directed the film, but this is hardly to his credit. Such self-conscious camera tricks as a surrealist montage of eyes to suggest a prison riot are howling failures.

Despite mediocre direction and an ambiguous tone, I strongly recommend The Ceremony for its ingenuity of portrayal. Good performers and a powerul story are a combination seen all too infrequently on the American screen.