Despite strong core performances by lead actress Alfre Woodard, as a distraught prison warden on the verge of an emotional breakdown, and Aldis Hodge, as a death-row inmate, Clemency's director Chinonye Chukwu never gets together in dramatic terms, no matter how compelling individual scenes may be. His message of anti-death-penalty is praiseworthy, and there are powerful moments in it, but too often the expositional dialog states the thoughts of the director in exact terms, detracting from the finer qualities of the film. Worse, the warden of Woodard remains a cypher, her final catharsis coming from both an evident and obscure location. While Clemency needs mercy, it is not deserving of her grace. With an official eye, Woodard's warden, Bernadine Williams, presides over her prison. Everything detracts from her task of running a tight ship and making everything go as planned. If, right at the start of the novel, the official executioner is unable to find a good vein for the rendezvous with fate of that day's prisoner in a painfully clinical scene, there are repercussions. However, beyond the official calculation, it is the mental state of Bernadine that is most under threat. Or so it seems like that. Interestingly, she responds less to her title than to her first name, as if she is crying for recognition from her submerged humanity. But, back home, her husband (Wendell Pierce) would love to see some of that concealed humanity, just secret, deadened by the constant drinking of his wife. Elsewhere, Hodge's Anthony Woods, who maintains his innocence years after being put away in a botched robbery for killing a cop (he says it was his partner who pulled the trigger), is struggling to accept his coming fate. To his mind, his life is but a pointless exercise. Until, that is to say, he learns that he has a friend, and then he develops hope unexpectedly. With a little faith in the future, there's nothing wrong, unless you have none. Sadly, Woods ' lawyer (Richard Schiff) is also a hideous amateur, at least based on the evidence here, although obviously an idealistic and loving person. He sighs and shrugs, shrugging his shoulders against the world's injustice. If I could be so bold, I recommend that he look at the career of Bryan Stevenson, creator and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative (who in a few weeks gets his own, better film, with Just Mercy). Now there's a prosecutor doing more than just declaring his powerlessness. Poor Woods has no ability to get the titular clemency. And so it goes in this bleak story of our mutual failure to make a difference to the scheme. There is no doubt that there is reality in that wailing lament, but it is unbearable to watch passivity in the face of injustice after a while. Nevertheless, Woodard and Hodge are doing their best and they have real power in the scenes that show them together. It's too bad, however, that Chukwu flubs her end, wasting a lengthy final closeup on Woodard and a potential tear by continuing the take until an unnecessary explosion. We're getting it: she's broken and can recover now. We're told what we know, like in so much of the film, and not told what we need. This Clemency falls short of absolution, disturbing as it can be in situations.