I preface my opinion of a lot of indie films with the disclaimer, "I imagine this is not the film that this director has always wanted to make"—meaning, of course, that the film is essentially a portfolio piece, or a journeyman work for hire that's paying some much needed dues for later benefit.

I'm happy to report in this case that that Heaven's Rain is, in all probability, exactly the film that co-writer, co-producer, and costar Brooks Douglass has always wanted to make. It may, in fact, be the only film he has ever wanted to make—because it's his story.

In 1979, Brooks and Leslie Douglass survived the attempted murder of their entire family—and then, while still teenagers, lived through the hell of multiple trials, retrials, and resentencing of the killers, all the while mourning the tragic loss of their parents. Douglass himself studied law and became a state senator, sponsoring victims' rights legislation that became law on the eve of the execution of one of the killers.

Heaven's Rain, now in a limited indie release with gradual rollout across the country, is the story of a roughly 48-hour period in which Douglass' political career reaches its apex while his private life crumbles because of his inability to let go of that Oklahoma farmhouse tragedy. As the narrative nears its climax—the aforementioned execution—Douglass manages to arrange an in-prison physical confrontation with the other killer, the one who actually did the shooting and who has, nonetheless, managed to avoid the death penalty.

Complicating matters is the fact that Douglass' parents, Richard and Marilyn, were gentle missionaries trapped in a stateside pastorate by a seemingly unthinking missions board. Complicating the movie itself is the fact that Douglass actually plays his father Richard.

Yes, you read that right.

And if you missed that, go back and re-read it.

I don't think there could possibly be a film that has ever been more a work of passion. In any other context, this might feel like sensationalistic stunt-casting; but Douglass' performance is so subtle and emotionally restrained that the subject matter of the film is drawn right into the foreground as you're watching: How on Earth could Douglass have possibly gotten past his parents' brutal murder and not only led the life he has, but come to a point where he could write, produce, and star in a film that would so require him to disappear into the life and death of his father... without it destroying him emotionally?

And the answer to that question lies in what transpires in that prison-cell meeting with his would-be killer.

Last year, I reviewed two films about the genocide in Rwanda. One, My Neighbor, My Killer, highlighted the insanity of asking victims to live peaceably alongside those who murdered their families; it offered a secularly pessimistic view. The other, As We Forgive, instead chose to highlight how such insanity has, in the real world, actually been overcome—not as a rule, but in cases which simply cannot be denied; it, naturally, offered a hopeful, Christ-centered view.

Continue: 1 2