I watched last weekend Pierrepoint, The Last Executioner. It was a “new release” rental; I am not sure it ever played at the wonderful Globe or Uptown theatres in Calgary, so there was never any chance of it playing at our unimaginative multiplex in Lethbridge. The Adrian Shergold film gives us another example of excellent British storytelling as we follow the adult life of Albert Pierrepoint, a grocery deliveryman who became the most trusted executioner in England. I was fascinated to see how one might have become a hangman, “learned the ropes” quite literally; I was fascinated to see how capital punishment might have been handled in the British justice system. It seems as though Pierrepoint was able to compartmentalize his feelings on overnight trips to various prisons, maintaining a steely determination until called upon to hang an acquaintance. By emphasizing Pierrepoint’s cold-bloodedness, The Last Executioner sets out a potent argument against capital publishment, but it is never dogmatic in its politics. After executing the most vile Nazi war criminals, Pierrepoint is treated as a celebrity, for example, though his renown turns to infamy as public opinion turns against executions in England.
Here, Timothy Spall is brilliant once more in the role of Albert Pierrepoint. He is nothing less than a legend in British cinema, distinguishing himself in Mike Leigh’s Secrets and Lies (1996), Topsy-Turvy (1999), and All or Nothing (2002). If you are unfamiliar with these excellent films, you might know Mr. Spall from his work as Peter Pettigrew in the Harry Potter movies. A plain and stout man, he is an unlikely matinee idol. But Albert Pierrepoint did not look like Matt Damon, and so there is little use in casting, say, Jude Law or Jonathan Rhys Meyers in the role. Indeed, Pierrepoint appears to have been a fairly unassuming man whose fame and later notoriety demanded some accommodation on his part. One must wonder if Mr. Spall ever feels this way. There is no obvious equivalent to Mr. Spall’s popularity in England amongst North American actors. If Paul Giamatti, who parlayed his unlikely success in Sideways (2004) into meaty parts in Cinderella Man (2005), The Illusionist (2006), and The Lady in the Water (2006), attained a position of affection akin to Jimmy Stewart, he might get close.
I do not want to suggest that there is no celebrity culture in Great Britain. They have a ferocious tabloid press, and everyone reading these words will remember how Princess Diana was fed to it. London has a legitimate claim to being the most glamorous city in the world. But England also has interesting remnants of its age-old class system, perhaps best summed up by the phrase “a place for everything and everything in its place.” Britain has regular folks who aspire to being regular folks, and you can even see some of them on television and in magazines. With our celebrity obsession in North America, does it ever seem like all our regular folks aspire to be celebrities? Thanks to our plastic surgery epidemic, we can all look like celebrities, at the very least. The “American Dream” promises us all that we can accomplish anything if we put our minds to it, and so any failure to be rich and beautiful must be our own. No wonder we are uncomfortable with any role model who hasn’t walked off the pages of GQ.
