The odds of a successful jailbreak are never good. On a night in April 2012, they were all but impossible for Chen Guangcheng: one blind Chinese dissident against the 100 guards surrounding his home and village in Shandong province. Political activism against the Chinese government had earned Chen six years of what he called “brutal” detainment—translation: regular beatings—first in prison and later under house arrest. And so, to escape, the 40-year-old Chen waited for a moonless sky, and then scaled the government-built wall around his house, relying on his other senses to guide him across rivers and roads. Three hundred miles later—at one point he was reduced to crawling after breaking bones in his foot—the fugitive reached his sanctuary: the American Embassy in Beijing.
The story of the blind man eluding a domestic-security apparatus with an annual budget of $111 billion “electrified China’s rights activists,” according toThe New York Times. The embarrassed country’s Internet police tried to squelch the story by censoring micro-blogs, an information-sharing platform in China similar to the government-banned Twitter. Blocked search terms included “blind person,” “embassy,” and “Shawshank.”
Twenty years ago this week, The Shawshank Redemption hit multiplexes. It’s a period prison drama with stately, old-fashioned rhythms, starring Tim Robbins as Andy Dufresne, wrongfully convicted of killing his wife, her lover and serving two life terms, and Morgan Freeman as fellow lifer “Red” Redding, who narrates the film. But the 90s were an era of booyah action movies starring the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bruce Willis. In Shawshank, the story of a decades-long quest for redemption and freedom, the closest things to action sequences involve fighting off buggery or defiantly blasting a Mozart duettino. Reviews were mostly favorable, but the film bombed, failing to earn even $1 million on its opening weekend and eventually eking out $16 million (about $25 million today) at the American box office during its initial release, not nearly enough—and even less so after marketing costs and exhibitors’ cuts—to recoup its $25 million budget.
That was then. Today The Shawshank Redemption tops the IMDb’s Top 250 cinema-favorites list with more than a million votes, having passed the previous champ, The Godfather, in 2008. (While The Godfather—trailing by 300,000 votes—has maintained its runner-up position, Citizen Kane, the perennial greatest movie ever in critics’ polls, whispers “Rosebud” from No. 66.) Readers of the British movie magazine Empire voted The Shawshank Redemption* No. 4 in a 2008 list of “the 500 Greatest Films of All Time,” and in 2011 the film won a BBC Radio favorite-film poll.
Morgan Freeman relies on less empirical evidence. “About everywhere you go, people say, ‘The Shawshank Redemption—greatest movie I ever saw,’ ” he told me. “Just comes out of them.” Not that he’s a disinterested observer, but Tim Robbins backs his co-star: “I swear to God, all over the world—all over the world—wherever I go, there are people who say, ‘That movie changed my life.’ ” Even the world’s most famous former prisoner connected with the movie, according to Robbins: “When I met [Nelson Mandela], he talked about lovingShawshank.”
How did a period prison film running 142 minutes—a life sentence for most audiences—become a global phenomenon capable of rankling a world superpower and stirring a Nobel Peace Prize winner? To borrow a quote fromShawshank, “Geology is the study of pressure and time. That’s all it takes, really. Pressure and time.”