More than a week after the second viewing of Morris' Thin Blue Line, I still cannot unplug myself from Randall Adams' haunting mannerisms and poetic demeanour, and of course, David Harris' insane obsession with jumping into the abyss. One ends up feeling for Adams but the film makes you think through Harris' mind, his nearly poetic language, his crystal clear causation, and that faint smile from within him as if betraying his intimate disregard for life. Morris and Herzog must be the two most astute students of the human mind.
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