Mary Surratt is the lone female charged as a co-conspirator in the assassination trial of Abraham Lincoln. As the whole nation turns against her, she is forced to rely on her reluctant lawyer to uncover the truth and save her life.
When the kinetic Rory moves into his room in the Carrigmore Residential Home for the Disabled, his effect on the home is immediate. Most telling is his friendship with Michael, a young man with cerebral palsy and nearly unintelligible speech. Somehow, Rory understands Michael, and encourages him to experience life outside the confines of home.
In the wake of Abraham Lincoln's assassination, seven men and one woman are arrested and charged with conspiring to kill the President, the Vice-President, and the Secretary of State. The lone woman charged, Mary Surratt, 42, owns a boarding house where John Wilkes Booth and others met and planned the simultaneous attacks. Against the ominous back-drop of post-Civil War Washington, newly-minted lawyer, Frederick Aiken, a 28-year-old Union war-hero, reluctantly agrees to defend Surratt before a military tribunal. As the trial unfolds, Aiken realizes his client may be innocent and that she is being used as bait and hostage in order to capture the only conspirator to have escaped a massive manhunt, her own son.Written by
During the scene when the conspirators are being hung at the gallows, the camera pans over twice to the photographer positioned on a carriage platform. Only one photographer was allowed in to photograph the hanging: Alexander Gardner. However, he was not on the ground when he took the picture. He set up his camera in an old shoe factory, at a second-story window overlooking the gallows. ("Shooting Lincoln and the Race to Photograph the Story of the Century", Nicholas J.C. Pistor, author) See more »
Two men standing at the Pearly Gates. The first man says, "How'd you die?" Second says, "I froze to death. How 'bout you?" And the, uh, second man says, "Well, I thought my... my wife was being unfaithful to me, so I ran all the way home. And burst into the bedroom. She just..."
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I was reluctant to see "The Conspirator" because it has racked up a critical consensus of a kind I dislike: the film is said to be cold-hearted, and to make political points with a heavy hand. Neither of these, happily, turns out to be true. The film is utterly impassioned, and its interest for today is nicely noted without being too underlined. Nearly every element one wants in a great film is there: visual beauty, strong acting, fine pacing, stirring and well-made music. But there is a flaw. The creators have taken their creation too seriously. There's not a shaft of levity or humor anywhere. A requirement for great art is thereby missed. It doesn't matter how somber the subject is supposed to be. King Lear has his fool; even Wagner's ultra-dark Ring cycle has its powerful currents of humor. It's got to be there; otherwise, the whole organism suffers. I think this is the weakness to which reviewers have responded, even if none of them has precisely named it. On that ground, the film falls short of greatness; but in every other respect it approaches or achieves greatness. "The Conspirator" is hugely recommendable and I will certainly see it again.
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