SPOILERS. Whoever wrote it went to the trouble of looking up some law. The question it deals with is pretty interesting. A black man rapes and murders a white woman in New York. When the alert goes out, the police capture the rapist, stopping him because he is the only African-American on a street in Little Italy. They take him to the station and search him, finding jewelry from the victim in his pockets and scratches on his face. He is read his rights but waives his right to an attorney because, "It won't do me no good."
Other evidence of culpability is collected, so there is no doubt whatever that he is the rapist/murderer. But the evidence is subsequently thrown out because the police did not have probable cause to stop him or search him. Even his confession is suppressed because, although he didn't ask for an attorney during questioning, it seems he was on parole for a previous crime (a rape) and the attorney appointed for that crime still represented him, and so should have been present. A bit complicated, but the victim's father, Robert Preston, simplifies things by blowing the murderer away when he walks. This courtroom drama deals with Preston's trial for murder. Preston is candid and sane. He shot the guy because the law did not do its job.
The movie conforms to the classic template involving tension between the rights of the accused and the sanctity of the law. Too bad it's executed so perfunctorily. The performers aren't all bad. Mel Ferrer brings a quiet dignity to his role as a judge who sees himself as an instrument of the law, although he doesn't agree with it. Linda Purl, in the traditional role of female support for a hero filled with self doubt, wears big glasses and is as dainty as can be, her shoulders narrow, he limbs vulnerable looking, as if they could be snapped by the slightest pressure. She has enormous blue eyes and tiny lips that curl up at the outer edges, like Meg Ryan's. Her acting skills are modest but adequate to the job at hand. Burgess Meredith is another matter. I kind of like the guy, but sheesh he can overact. "No more OUTbursts! This is NOT a FOOTBALL game. This is a COURT of LAW!" His hair is a delightful mess but his smile is so taut that it seems to signal an immanent explosion. Robert Preston is okay but is more effective in lightweight roles. He has strong features and looks in fine shape for a guy who's career began back in the 1930s. Beau Bridges is the weakest performer and it's too bad because his role is critical. He just doesn't have much range. It wasn't much of a hindrance in some of his earlier performances but it is here, where real drama and the blessings of Thespia are required.
The director is of no help to him or anyone else. Blocking is professional enough but Bridges and Meredith are allowed to overact outrageously. Every question -- every statement that Bridges makes in the courtroom is treated as a climax. As a result the courtroom scenes suffer from multiple climaxes and leave the viewer sobbing with relief and gratitude when the verdict is finally delivered. I'll leave you to figure out what the verdict turns out to be.
Well, maybe I won't. It gets off to a slow start. Robert Preston is dead meat. But he's a proud man and won't plead insanity or any such nonsense. He feels he deserves his punishment. He doesn't get it. Bridges puts the law on the stand instead and criticizes the various legal issues that led to the rapist's release even after there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he was guilty of particularly heinous crime. The jury finds instead that Preston is innocent but the justice system is guilty.
"We are a nation of laws, not men," said John Adams. If you don't like John Adama -- and many didn't -- there's always Aristotle: "The law is reason, free from passion." In this case the law didn't prevail despite the cogent summary by the prosecutor. What prevailed instead was passion, the very thing the law was designed to prevent from having influence over a decision. This was 1986 before the O. J. Simpson case. And it's amusing to imagine the audience applauding Bridges when he's scolded for trying to put the police and the judges on trial -- "sending a message to the police", as it were. It's precisely what Johnny Cochran told the jury to do in the Simpson case.
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