The Verdict (1982)
Directed by Sidney Lumet
20th Century Fox, 129 minutes, R (language, brief nudity, violence)
★★★★★
In 1983, The Verdict was nominated for five Academy Awards, including most of the big ones. It was its misfortune to be swept aside by Gandhi and audience responses that were less sterling than its reviews. It is, however, a great courtroom drama. It was directed by the legendary Sidney Lumet with a screenplay from David Mamet, a guarantee that it had enough salty language to give it an R rating. (Its nudity and violence are mild by today’s standards.)
Paul Newman is Frank Galvin, once a mainstay among Boston lawyers but now a regular in its Irish bars. Frank has descended so low that he’s an ambulance chaser whose TV ads you might see after 11 pm. That doesn’t begin to describe Frank’s desperation. He has pretty much worn out his welcome everywhere, though an old friend Mickey Morrissey (Jack Warden) tosses him a potential life saver and a warning not to screw it up. Deborah Ann Kay lies in a comma. There are enough questions about what went wrong that her brother-in-law Kevin Doneghy and her sister Sally (Roxanne Hart) have filed a medical malpractice suit in hope of recovering money to pay for Deborah’s care.
All Frank has to do is what is often done in civil suits, settle out of court. The diocese of Boston admits no wrong but offers $210,000 dressed up as an act of compassion. Frank could simply meet with the Doneghys, get them to sign off, collect a big fee, and begin to get his life and practice in order. That’s what would have happened had Frank not gone to the hospital to see what’s left of Deborah Ann. Without telling the Doneghys of the proposal, Frank rejects the settlement and plans to take the case to court.
You name it and the card is against Frank. Suing the Catholic Church in Boston is akin to me challenging a heavyweight boxing champion to a fistfight. The two doctors in the suit–Toller and Gruber–are acclaimed obstetrics physicians. Bishop Brophy (Edward Binns) is as oily as the Caspian Sea, but he’s smooth as silk and as canny as a fox. He hires a law firm headed by the courtly Ed Concanon (James Mason). Concanon looks suave and sophisticated but it would be safe to say his access to dirty tricks is more sophisticated than his moral compass. The physician who was gung ho to help Frank absents himself on the eve of the trial. Frank quickly pivots to a doctor in New York he has never met. He is Dr. Thompson (Joe Seneca), an African American without a direct connection to the events. A black man? In Boston? In 1983? My odds against the aforementioned boxer are better.
Could it get any worse? Yes. Hoyle, the trial judge has it out for Frank and makes no secret of his admiration for Toller, Gruber, the Bishop, and Attorney Concanon. Frank’s hatred of Judge Hoyle is equally palpable and the two go at each other like hyenas at a roadkill. Plus, the Doneghys learn that Frank turned down the settlement offer and has risked losing everything. Frank needs a miracle.
He's probably not going to find one in Boston dive bars or with the pinball machines he tilts in frustration. Frank seems to be slipping deeper into his cups, though he does acquire a lover who can match him drink for drink: Laura Fischer (Charlotte Rampling). She professes faith in Frank–enough that he breaks out of his funk, but he’s still no match for Concanon or Boston’s religio-political machine.
The Verdict features it all: double crosses, browbeating witnesses (check out Lindsay Crouse as Kaitlin Costello), favoritism, a shocking breakup, a bittersweet verdict, and a post-trial letdown. Newman and Warden are wonderful as grizzled hard-nosed Boston lawyers. Newman is especially convincing as a world weary nothing-left-to-lose hangdog drunk. Even the accents are mostly right. The cinematography of Andrzej Bartkowiak captures the cigar smoke, the darkness, the spilled booze, and the shabby courtrooms of the 1980s. (Warning: 1980s clothing and hair appear!)
It's a terrific film that is now rightly considered a classic. Ignore audience scores in the 70s; too many viewers want cheap endings with protagonists who overcome all flaws. The Verdict shines for its verisimilitude, even it does get a few court procedures wrong. Call it grit over rainbows and flowers.
Rob Weir
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