This period film directed by Adrian Shergold tells the (true) story of one of England’s last executioners, Albert Pierrepoint. Between 1933 and 1955 Pierrepoint, who was famous for his fast hangings that limited the suffering of the people hanged to a minimum, executed over 600 people. In fact, General Montgomery requested him specifically for the execution of the Nuremburg-convicts. Depending on where you live this film is either called Pierrepoint or The Last Hangman.

During the course of the film we see Albert living a life that is divided between his regular job of delivering groceries and his trips around the country for the executions. His duties do not just consist of calculating the length of the rope (which we learn, is a vital task as a rope too long or too short will result in a long and/or painful death) and accompanying the convicted trough their last moments, but also the laying out of the dead, after they have been hanged. Albert takes pride in his work, but not in any perverse way (although there is a bit of competition going on). He approaches his duty with a quiet mercy. He is only concerned with giving the men and women before him a death and subsequent caring for, that allows them their dignity. However, he must carry the inevitable burden of his work alone; he is sworn to secrecy by the British prison system and, after the execution of the Nuremburg convicts makes him famous, the people around him (including his understanding but ultimately cold wife) are attracted to the financial and glamorous side of the job, but do not want to know what the effects of it are on the man himself.

It is during the execution of the Nuremberg convicts (a sequence featuring what must be the most cynical use of a Johan Strauss waltz in recent cinematic history), that the mechanics of the job start to eat away at Albert. His work is reduced to an assembly line; and seeing the Nazis lined up to be weighed and measured in much the same way as their Jewish victims in the concentration camps once were, Albert struggles to find the moral high ground. Only when it’s far too late to bring him any solace, does he give up his job. But by then the damage (to Albert and those around him) is done.

It is easy, and indeed very tempting to compare this film to last years’ Vera Drake. Both take place in roughly the same time period, both tackle dicey subject matter without shoving an opinion down the viewer’s throat and both feature actor Eddie Marsan (whose ethereal face seems made for period pieces like this) in a fine supporting role. And just like the second half of Vera Drake, Pierrepoint is made up nearly entirely of close ups, inescapably showing the audience what the characters are feeling inside.

Of course it helps that these characters are played by the incomparable Timothy Spall (who gives Albert a resigned grace under pressure) and Juliette Stevenson (I don’t think anybody cries as sincerely and beautifully as she does). The level of acting is very high, and clearly no compromises have been made on any of the performances. The cinematography on the other hand, leaves something to be desired, as the camera is occasionally out of focus, diminishing the impact of the close ups. Pierrepoint features set dressing and a colour palette that are very frugal, to the point of almost going unnoticed. They successfully translate the dearth of the time period through an almost monochrome grey colouring with a few touches of brown. Only in pivotal moments does the movie show a little more colour, to much effect.

But this film left me much colder than Vera Drake did. Where Mike Leigh draws the audience deep into Vera’s world, the director of Pierrepoint has chosen to keep his distance, opting instead for a gentle compassion with both Albert and the people he’s administered to over the years. Best moment in the film by far (to me anyway) is the one where Albert faces a convict’s mother, begging and pleading him for her son’s life. It is one of the few moments where Shergold takes a stand and the movie could have done with a few more of those.

Clearly meant as a film that lets the audience make up their own mind about the death penalty (although from the quote at the end, it is clear what the filmmakers position on the subject is), Pierrepoint has taken that intention too far, leaving one careless. The strength of a film like Dead Man Walking is precisely that it did take a stand and a firm one at that. The same applies to Vera Drake; the viewer could not help feeling involved. Pierrepoint however, despite good acting and directorial achievements, is ultimately too detached from its subject matter to leave a lasting impression.