Devil’s Knot

The trial, convictions and subsequent quasi-voiding of the guilty verdicts of West Memphis, Ark., teenagers Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley in the 1993 killings of three other, younger adolescents have already served as the basis for four high-profile documentaries, so director Atom Egoyan’s Devil’s Knot arrives somewhat anticlimactically for those who have been gripped by the lurid true crime tale over the past two decades—a queasy, repackaged hits collection of judicial incompetence and malfeasance heaped on top of human tragedy. For those wholly unfamiliar with the case, meanwhile, it’s no less of a mixed bag. If the film’s narrative muddle is somewhat understandable, given the many unanswered questions surrounding the terribly sad events, neither does its lack of a clear mandate gel into something heady and artistic, like a vivisection of crime’s impact on community.
The film unfolds in the aforementioned small town, a deeply conservative burgh with limited socioeconomic opportunity. When a trio of second-graders are discovered dead in a creek, police investigators (in addition to making a litany of very basic errors in the collection and handling of evidence) seem all too eager to believe their murders were part of some occult ritual. Yielding to this “Satanic panic,” they cultivate theories and witnesses to bolster their feelings, much of it centered around suspicion of black-clad outcast Echols (James Hamrick), a troubled high school dropout.
When Echols, Baldwin and Misskelley are charged and facing the death penalty, private investigator Ron Lax (Colin Firth) offers to assist the overworked public defenders representing them. This puts him at odds with not only Pamela (Reese Witherspoon) and Terry Hobbs (Alessandro Nivola), the mother and stepfather of one of the victims, but the prosecutor and entire West Memphis police force.
Adapted by Paul Harris Boardman and Scott Derrickson from Mara Leveritt’s book Devil’s Knot: The True Story of the West Memphis Three, Egoyan’s film has the unenviable task of trying to serve many different masters and boil down a thorny, unresolved crime into a cogent narrative. It’s not entirely structured like a traditional procedural, and several unusual moments—as when Pamela takes her dead son’s math homework to his teacher in the middle of a school day, ostensibly to be graded—punch through in interesting, emotional and very human ways. Early on, especially, Egoyan and editor Susan Shipton also intercut between various interrogations to exceptional effect, painting a portrait of a piecemeal investigation governed by impulse.