
Yeah, that's Sylvia. She told a bunch of lies about my sister Paula and now she's being punished. If you want, you can put this cigarette out on her arm. You won't get in trouble because Mom says it's okay.
It's no secret that actors are drawn to roles where they have to portray suffering, and in An American Crime, the latest feel-good slice of Americana from Killer Films (Boys Don't Cry), Ellen Page (Hard Candy) got handed a role worth going Method for. Not only does she get to scream her head off playing innocent scapegoat Sylvia Likens, she gets to suffer at the hands of master actress Catherine Keener, playing torturer mom Gertrude Baniszewski. Page's performance is captivating, fresh and intelligent, and the rest of the cast lives up to her standard and that of the subtle Keener, but the story itself never quite transcends true-crime exploitation.
Erstwhile comedy director Tommy O'Haver (Billy's Hollywood Screen Kiss, Ella Enchanted) is aiming for importance and tragedy, but ultimately he wants too much from the true events from 1965-66 that constitute the source material. Gertrude Baniszewski is a single mother with six kids who takes in Sylvia and younger sister Jennie (Hayley McFarland) for $20 a week from their carny parents. Gertie was prone to depression and hooked on cough syrup, and when Sylvia angers Paula (Ari Graynor), Gertie starts to punish Sylvia, growing increasingly more sadistic. She invites her children to participate, who then bring in neighbor children to join in the fun, who defend themselves with the old "we were just doing what we were told." Sylvia Likens ended her life in a filthy basement, covered in cigarette burns and with the phrase, "I'm a prostitute and proud of it" tattooed on her stomach.
It's an awful story, showing the ease with which a group mentality can lead people to commit acts of atrocity that would normally be unthinkable. Unfortunately, this is also a familiar story, and O'Haver doesn't come up with a strong enough reason for weighting his movie with such a portentous title. Quite simply, O'Haver doesn't have a tragedy on his hands. It's undeniable that what happened to Sylvia in the basement of the Baniszewski house was evil, but An American Crime doesn't offer a context that is able to give her story larger meaning and purpose.
As Sylvia herself puts it, "God has a plan, I guess. I'm still trying to figure out what the plan was." Despite the outstanding performances, solid plotting and good directorial choices, it's not clear why this story needed to be told. By chickening out on looking for meaning, An American Crime buries poor Sylvia in cold ground.
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