I saw this film with my girlfriend about a year after I graduated from college, where I had lived in the alpha-male, females-as-accessories environment of a fraternity house. While I know of nothing that went on in my fraternity that compares to the horrible events of this film, I was struck that some of the beer-fueled conversations I had with my fraternity brothers could have led to the same results with more likelihood than I realized at the time (or care to admit even to this day). Suffice it to say, I cried all the way home from this movie, as much from shame as anything else.
Twelve years later, I still cannot recall being as horrifyingly struck by a scene as I was during the rape scene at the end of "The Accused" -- and I definitely do not have the stomach to see it again. The movie, in my view, is exceedingly well-acted (Foster's Oscar was well-deserved) and well-told. It has the rare gift of touching the viewer viscerally for the entire duration -- discomfort being the feeling.
This isn't virtuoso film-making like "The Godfather", but at the same time I can think of no greater compliment for a movie than it truly opened my eyes to a new perspective that I was not mature enough to grasp on my own. I left the theater a different person -- how often can that be said?
Twelve years later, I still cannot recall being as horrifyingly struck by a scene as I was during the rape scene at the end of "The Accused" -- and I definitely do not have the stomach to see it again. The movie, in my view, is exceedingly well-acted (Foster's Oscar was well-deserved) and well-told. It has the rare gift of touching the viewer viscerally for the entire duration -- discomfort being the feeling.
This isn't virtuoso film-making like "The Godfather", but at the same time I can think of no greater compliment for a movie than it truly opened my eyes to a new perspective that I was not mature enough to grasp on my own. I left the theater a different person -- how often can that be said?