Paradise Lost: The HBO Trilogy that Challenged the Justice System in the West Memphis Three Case
Milton created an enduring piece of art with his Paradise Lost. Throughout the verses, he reflects on the suffering that man can experience in the face of the passivity of a supposedly benevolent superior being, such as God. To what extent is punishment just? This same question is posed by the classic HBO documentary of the same name.
In this ambitious project, Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky tell the story of the West Memphis Three: Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin, and Jessie Misskelley. These three teenagers were accused and convicted of the heinous and macabre murder of three children. However, they were innocent and became entangled in the matter because the community needed a scapegoat, and some kids who were outside socially accepted norms were the perfect candidates for that purpose.
The work is a trilogy, with the first part premiering in 1996. The creative duo had already made their debut with Brother’s Keeper, a documentary about another gruesome crime in rural America. It’s no surprise that the HBO of Chris Albrecht and Michael J. Fuchs (among others) greenlit a project that was both a stylistic continuation of the aforementioned one and yet different. In any case, the trilogy narrates the process by which the three teenagers ended up being sentenced to death and/or life imprisonment for something they didn’t commit.
The film contains interviews with all parties involved, setting aside the creators’ opinions and evaluations, and aims for a more objective, journalistic approach rather than sensationalism. It’s a succession of remarkably edited archival footage, although it suffers from some of the gothic and overwrought aesthetic of the turn of the century. Even so, it offers an interesting perspective that highlights the shortcomings of the judicial system, the pressures it can face when deciding a verdict, and the prejudices and hatred that permeate parts of rural America.
The second part mainly focuses on studying the progress of the case and exploring different theories and avenues to explain the murders. If there was any doubt about the truth, this second phase seeks to dispel it completely, while also depicting the struggle the teenagers faced both in prison and in the courts. It also portrays the suffering of the victims’ parents in a deeply oppressive environment.
In some way, the third installment, released in 2011, shows the ultimate evolution of the individuals involved and the lessons they’ve learned over the years. It’s impressive how some of these people can come to empathize with those they once believed destroyed their lives. That someone who had been constantly threatening to kill the teenagers ultimately comes to understand that they were victims of a system that used them as scapegoats is quite hopeful. However, the resolution — where the prisoners had to confess to a crime they didn’t commit in order to gain their freedom — leaves a bittersweet feeling. Reality is like that, after all.
Despite its extended runtime, the passion and meticulousness of the creators on this subject are evident. They dedicated themselves to following this case for more than a decade — something most wouldn’t have invested their time in — and the results are clear. Now, Berlinger is a renowned true crime director who has managed to release a film as interesting as it is sensationalized around the figure of Ted Bundy. However, along the way, something of the more intellectual than emotional sensitivity that he exhibits here has been lost. He has adapted to, and perhaps even set the trend for, the dominant style of this subgenre. And here is where it all began.
It’s also worth noting the tributes that have followed. One of the most iconic characters from Stranger Things, Eddie Munson, is loosely inspired by this case. Additionally, Damien Echols had a role in another truly unique audiovisual experiment: The Midnight Gospel, by Pendleton Ward and Duncan Trussell.
Surely the most interesting and significant contribution to the language of documentary here is the idea of the passage of time and the meta-analysis of the influence it had, how their contribution changed the fate of these teenagers, and how it raised awareness around an unjust cause (one of many) through visibility and public opinion. In some way, it parallels the daring second season of The Jinx (available on MAX), which has also had its effects on reality. The documentary, though a passive agent, can be more active than one might suspect. It’s a weapon that shouldn’t be underestimated.
Paradise Lost is a monumental work, as well as a precursor to the current true crime craze. Observing Berlinger’s work and comparing it to what he does today, one has to wonder if something has been gained or lost. Either way, we can only hope that all the sensationalist documentaries flooding streaming platforms would be more like this project, which, at least, sought to do justice.
