The film has often been likened to Akira Kurosawa's fictive film- also about a murder, Rashomon. The problem with that analogy is that, in the Kurosawa film, one has no basis by which to know which of the several versions of the killing are correct. In The Thin Blue Line- both from the many tellings and the way Morris presents them, it's obvious that Adams is innocent and Harris is guilty. The only Rashomon like thing is the fact that re-enacted tellings of the shooting all vary, from the two principals, to the cops' claims, to those made by the assorted witnesses who, in actuality, saw nothing. The fact that the many re-enactments are at odds with Morris's clear view that Adams was innocent is a minor failing of the film, and shows Morris was still trying to live up to the dictum that a documentary has to be (or try to be) objective in its presentation of its facts. But, in a case where the evidence is so incontrovertibly one-sided, is such an effort worth it, dramatically or aesthetically? I think not, and films like Barbara Kopple's Harlan County, USA are proof of my claim. The title of the film comes from the old notion that a thin line of cops (hence the blue) is all that saves civilization from its own worst instincts. The judge who sentenced Adams, when recounting the summation of the DA, tells how he almost teared up at hearing the use of the term. The film, however, turns the title on its side and shows how that same line can be used as a tool for injustice, suppression of evidence, and the oppression of innocents. And it is this perversion of 'justice' that can hasten society's fall far more than the mere absence of that thin blue line.
The Thin Blue Line is both a landmark and important film, but those claims are not equivalent to calling it a great film. Arguments can be made, in which case a claim for near greatness may be apt, but not greatness. Compared to the documentaries of Morris's friend and mentor, Werner Herzog, The Thin Blue Line still has a far greater affinity to the sort of straightforward documentaries to be found on PBS shows like Frontline. However, the fact that it did great things- freed an innocent man and held up the so-called justice system to the greater scrutiny it deserves (be it for capital crimes or those as trivial as phony traffic tickets issued to meet monthly quotas)- is indisputable, and that makes it an important film. From a cinematic perspective, the best thing this still rather linear film did was bridge Morris's path from his early quirky documentaries to his later, greater films, like The Fog Of War, which is more clearly in the Herzogian mode. And, for that trajectory, alone, the world of cinema should be grateful.
The Thin Blue Line is both a landmark and important film, but those claims are not equivalent to calling it a great film. Arguments can be made, in which case a claim for near greatness may be apt, but not greatness. Compared to the documentaries of Morris's friend and mentor, Werner Herzog, The Thin Blue Line still has a far greater affinity to the sort of straightforward documentaries to be found on PBS shows like Frontline. However, the fact that it did great things- freed an innocent man and held up the so-called justice system to the greater scrutiny it deserves (be it for capital crimes or those as trivial as phony traffic tickets issued to meet monthly quotas)- is indisputable, and that makes it an important film. From a cinematic perspective, the best thing this still rather linear film did was bridge Morris's path from his early quirky documentaries to his later, greater films, like The Fog Of War, which is more clearly in the Herzogian mode. And, for that trajectory, alone, the world of cinema should be grateful.