BY LEE PFEIFFER
Racial tensions are flaring in the deep South. White supremacists are marching with members of the Klan, as progressive counter-protestors face off against them amidst a media frenzy. Confederate banners are proudly waved opposite those displaying the American flag. You would be forgiven for thinking this scenario describes the USA in the year 2018 but in actuality it's the setting for the 1996 political thriller "The Chamber", based on the novel by John Grisham. Like other Grisham cinematic tales, it's a complex story of eccentric characters, some laudable, others villainous, and its decked out with an atmosphere of Southern fried hatred. The film opens in Mississippi in 1967 when a Jewish civil rights lawyer makes the fatal mistake of taking his two young sons to work with him on the very day the Klan has placed a time bomb in his office. The resulting blast kills the boys and injures the father, who later commits suicide, leaving his widow (Millie Perkins) to cope with a lifetime of unspeakable sorrow. The story then cuts to the present day (1996) where we find Adam Hall (Chris O'Donnell), a bright, dedicated young lawyer, determined to intervene on behalf of the man who was convicted of the hate crime and who is now about to be executed after many years of exhausted appeals while on Death Row. The culprit is Sam Cayhall (Gene Hackman) and he is Adam's grandfather, though the young man has never met him. This introduces the first problem with the screenplay by the usually estimable William Goldman: we are never really clear about why Adam is so dedicated to savING the life of a grandfather he has never met. He is clearly haunted by the fact that his own father committed suicide when Adam was a child, presumably out of the overwhelming shame of being Sam Cayhall's son. Adam's motives are left murky, especially when there is no doubt that Sam did plant the deadly device in the lawyer's office. Is Adam grasping at straws in trying to reclaim some dignity for his family's name or is he on to something more intriguing? Because this is a Grisham tale, our hero does turn detective and learns that Sam had at least one co-conspirator, a local white supremacist (Raymond J. Barry) who was never on law enforcement's radar. Turns out he is actually Sam's brother and has been living under an assumed name. In a dramatic meeting, Sam's brother implores him not to spill the beans and to continue to cover for him until he is executed a few days later in the gas chamber. Sam responds with a verbal onslaught against his brother, screaming out that the plan was never to kill anyone. If that's the case, why is Sam willing to go to his death to continue to cover up for his slime bag brother? The question is left ambiguous.
There's a lot of legal maneuvering as Adam exhausts the options available to save Sam, who he has met and formed a bond with. Behind Sam's exterior of hatred and racism we learn there is a deep-thinking, intelligent man who is more nuanced than one might think when it comes to race relations. This warm, fuzzy side of the character doesn't ring true and seems to be a plot contrivance to make the audience sympathize with his plight. Helping matters is the fine performance by Gene Hackman, which goes a long way to making Sam accessible from an emotional standpoint even if his conversion is unconvincing. (After all, he still had willingly carried out a terrorist action in the name of racism.) The supporting cast includes Faye Dunaway as Sam's estranged and long-suffering daughter who saw him murder a black man when she was a child. She's now living the life of a Southern belle and is not too happy with being outed as Sam's offspring. The script does allow for father and daughter to have a somber reunion in prison and it's one of the few scenes that works credibly in the film. (It's also enjoyable to see Hackman and Dunaway reunited for the first time since "Bonnie and Clyde" 29 years earlier.) Lela Rochon is tossed into the mix in an under-written role as a young African American attorney who is being manipulated by the Mississippi governor (David Marshall Grant, playing the role like Snidely Whiplash) to befriend Adam in order to find out what legal strategies he is employing. The implication is that the Governor and other top officials have a lot to fear if Sam is not executed on schedule, but these factors are left frustratingly murky.