My favorite moment doesn’t involve tears or harsh words: Poncelet remarks that he’s cold, and Sister Helen turns her head to ask if someone at the jail can bring him a jacket, then turns back to look at him.

It may not be her finest hour (I’d argue that either Bull Durham or Thelma & Louise deserves that honor), but it’s certainly in the running. This was one of those ideal instances when the sense that a veteran was long overdue-Sarandon was almost 50, and had been working for 25 years-coincided with genuinely great work. Sarandon’s impassioned performance deftly avoids that pitfall she makes it abundantly clear that unconditional love is hard work, and he’s at her best when railing at Poncelet for his refusal to take full responsibility for his actions. Still, there was always the danger that Sister Helen might come across as tediously noble. Much of it consists of lengthy, highly emotional dialogue scenes between Sarandon’s Sister Helen Prejean and Sean Penn’s death-row killer, Matthew Poncelet, and Robbins knows all he has to do, having cast two powerhouses in these juicy roles, is point the camera in their direction and let them do their thing.

Academy Award: Susan Sarandon, Dead Man Walkingĭead Man Walking is an actor’s dream-no surprise, given that it was directed by an actor, Tim Robbins (essentially Susan Sarandon’s husband at the time, though they never actually married, and have since split up).

Casino nomination 1995