Film Review: …. And Justice For All (Dir by Norman Jewison)


First released in 1979, ….And Justice For All will always be remembered for one scene.

Yell it with me, “YOU’RE OUT OF ORDER!  THE WHOLE TRIAL IS OUT OF ORDER!  THEY’RE OUT OF ORDER!”

When attorney Arthur Kirkland (Al Pacino) starts screaming in the middle of the courtroom, it’s a cathartic moment.  We’ve spent nearly two hours watching as Arthur deals with one insane situation after another.  One of Arthur’s partners, Warren (Larry Bryggman), cares more about his car than actually delivering the right documents to a judge.  Another of Arthur’s partners, Jay (Jeffrey Tambor), has a nervous breakdown and, after shaving his head, ends up throwing cafeteria plates at people in the courthouse.  Arthur has three clients, one of whom is indigent, one of whom is innocent, and one of whom is a wealthy and despised judge (John Forsythe) who has been accused of a rape that Arthur suspects he committed.  The system offers no mercy for Arthur’s innocent (or, at the very least, harmless) clients while going out of it’s way to defend the judge.  Meanwhile, another judge (Jack Warden), is driven to take suicidal risks, like flying a helicopter until it runs out of fuel and comes down in a nearby harbor.  The assistant district attorney (Craig T. Nelson) only cares about his political ambitions and finally, after one incident after another, Arthur snaps.  And it’s cathartic because we’re all on the verge of snapping as well.

That final moment, with its signature Al Pacino rant, is such a strong and iconic scene that it’s easy to forget that the film itself is actually rather uneven.  The script, by Barry Levinson and Valerie Curtin, owes a good deal to the work of Paddy Chayefsky.  Just as Chayefsky often wrote about men being driven mad by institutional failure, ….And Justice For All features character after character snapping when faced with the screwed-up realities of the American justice system.  The final “out of order” speech is obviously meant to be this film’s version of Howard Beale’s “I’m as mad as Hell and I’m not going to take it!” speech from Network and, much like George C. Scott in the Chayefsky-written The Hospital, Arthur spends a lot of time talking about what he doesn’t like about his job.  The thing that sets ….And Justice For All apart from the best works of Chayefsky is that Levinson, Curtin, and director Norman Jewison all take Arthur Kirkland at his word while one gets the feeling that Chayefsky would have been a bit more willing to call out Arthur on his self-righteousness.  Arthur has every right to be angry when Warren forgets to give a judge an important document while Warren is substituting for him in court.  At the same time, Arthur is the one who trusted Warren to do it.  In the end, the document was not about one of Warren’s client.  In fact, Warren knew absolutely nothing about the case or Arthur’s client.  The document was about Arthur’s client and Arthur was the one who decided trust someone who had consistently shown himself to not be particularly detailed-orientated.  One gets the feeling that Chayefsky would not have let Arthur off the hook as easily as Levinson, Curtin, and Jewison do.  Arthur’s perpetual indignation can sometimes be a little hard to take.

It’s a very episodic film.  Arthur goes from one crisis to another and sometimes, you do have to wonder if Arthur has ever had any human or legal interactions that haven’t ended with someone either going insane or dying.  There’s no gradual build-up to the film’s insanity, it’s right there from the beginning.  And while this means the narrative often feels heavy-handed, it also makes that final speech all the more cathartic.  It’s an uneven film and, of all of the characters that Pacino played in the 70s, Arthur is probably the least interesting.  But that final rant makes up for a lot and, fortunately, Pacino was just the actor to make it memorable.  For all it’s flaws, the final few minutes of ….And Justice For All make the film unforgettable.

 

Days of Paranoia: Serpico (dir by Sidney Lumet)


In 1973’s Serpico, Al Pacino plays a cop who doesn’t look like a cop.

Indeed, that’s kind of the start of Frank Serpico’s problems.  He’s a New York cop who doesn’t fit the stereotype.  When we see him graduating from the Academy, he’s clean-shaven and wearing a standard patrolman uniform and he definitely looks like a new cop, someone who is young and enthusiastic and eager to keep the streets safe.  However, Serpico is an outsider at heart.  The rest of the cops have their homes in the suburbs, where they spend all of their time with their cop buddies and where they go also go out of their way not to actually live among the people that they police.  Serpico has an apartment in Greenwich Village and, as a plainclothes detective, he dresses like a civilian.  He has a beard.  He has long hair.  He has a succession of girlfriends who don’t have much in common with the stereotypical (and there’s that word again) cop’s wife.  Serpico is an outsider and he likes it that way.  In a world and a career that demands a certain amount of conformity, Frank Serpico is determined to do things his own way.

However, the real reason why Serpico is distrusted is because he refuses to take bribes.  While he’s willing to silently accompany his fellow officers while they collect their payoffs from not only the people that they’re supposed to be arresting but also from the storeowners that they’re meant to be protecting, Serpico refuses to take a cut.  Serpico understands that the small, everyday corruption is a way of forcing his silence.  The corruption may help the cops to bond as a unit but it also ensures that no one is going to talk.  Serpico’s refusal to take part makes him untrustworthy in the eyes of his fellow cops.

Serpico and Bob Blair (Tony Roberts), a politically-connected detective, both turn whistleblower but it turns out that getting people to listen to the truth is not as easy as Serpico thought it would be.  The Mayor’s office doesn’t want to deal with the political fallout of a police conspiracy.  Serpico finds himself growing more and more paranoid, perhaps with good reason.  When words gets out that Serpico has attempted to turn into a whistleblower, his fellow cops start to turn on him and, during a drug bust, Serpico finds himself deserted and in danger.

Serpico opens with its title character being rushed to the hospital after having been shot in the face.  This actually happened to the real Serpico as well.  What the film leaves out is that hundreds of New York cops showed up at the hospital, offering to donate blood during Serpico’s surgery.  That’s left out of the film, which at times can be more than a little heavy-handed in its portrayal of Serpico as an honest cop surrounded by nonstop corruption.  Filmed just three years after Serpico testified before New York’s Knapp Commission (which was the five-man panel assigned to investigate police corruption in the city), Serpico the movie can sometimes seem a bit too eager to idealize its title character.  (Vincent J. Cannato’s excellent look at the mayorship of John V. Lindsay, The Ungovernable City, presents far more nuanced look at the NYPD corruption scandals of the early 70s and Serpico’s role as a whistleblower.)  Director Sidney Lumet later expressed some dissatisfaction with the film and even made other films about police corruption — The Prince of the City, Q & A, Night Falls On Manhattan — that attempted to take a less heavy-handed approach to the subject.

That said, as a film, Serpico works as a thriller and as a portrait of a man who, because he refuses to compromise his ideals, finds himself isolated and paranoid.  Al Pacino, fresh from playing the tightly-controlled Michael Corleone in The Godfather, gives an intense, emotional, and charismatic performance as Serpico.  (One can see why the image of a bearded, hippie-ish Pacino was so popular in the 1970s.)  Sidney Lumet brings the streets of New York to vibrant and dangerous life and he surrounds Pacino with an excellent supporting cast, all of whom bring an authentic grit to their roles.  Serpico may not be a totally accurate piece of history but it is a good work of entertainment, one that works as a time capsule of New York in the 70s and as a portrait of bureaucratic corruption.  It’s also the film in which Al Pacino announced that he wasn’t just a good character actor.  He was also a movie star.

THE LONG KISS GOODNIGHT (1996) – the $4 Million script!


Shane Black wrote a couple of my favorite action movies during my teenage years, LETHAL WEAPON and THE LAST BOY SCOUT. His scripts are characterized by strong violence balanced out by a healthy amount of comedic banter. That lethal (pun intended) combination made Shane Black a star in his own right, with his work being very much in demand. In 1994 he sold his script for THE LONG KISS GOODNIGHT for the unheard price of $4 Million. After hitting this payday, Black would go dark for the next decade and not release another screenplay until 2005’s KISS KISS BANG BANG, which was also his directorial debut. 

THE LONG KISS GOODNIGHT opens with Samantha Caine playing Mrs. Claus in her small town’s Christmas parade. She has a nice boyfriend, an 8 year old daughter, and she’s a member of the PTA. This is pretty good for a lady that doesn’t remember a damn thing about her life prior to 8 years ago. After celebrating her friends at a Christmas party, she’s driving a soused old man (Alan North) home when she hits a deer and flies right through the window and lands on a snowbank. This wakes up some of her memories and she starts having a few quick flashbacks and some odd dreams from her past, including the name Charly Baltimore. She also learns that she can easily break a buck deer’s neck and handle knives like a champ! Around this same time, low-rent private detective Mitch Hennessy (Samuel L. Jackson) who has been paid a retainer by Ms. Caine to be on the lookout for any clues related to her past, gets lucky and finds a letter from Caine to a supposed former lover. He heads her way to give her the update. When a local news program shows the beautiful Ms. Caine in the parade, some enemies from her past see the story and head to town to try to kill her. Surviving the attempt on her life, and now with Hennessy by her side, Samantha leaves to find out who she really is and unravel the secrets of her past. Is she a chef? Is she a school teacher? Is she a badass hit woman named Charly Baltimore? The fun is in finding out! 

Geena Davis is so good in her role as Samantha Caine / Charly Baltimore. She’s simultaneously beautiful, funny, sexy, cute as a button, and badass. She was married to the director, Renny Harlin, when the film was made and they both went all out to create a strong, female action hero. I think they succeeded admirably. Samuel L. Jackson is just so good in this type of role. He’s sarcastic and funny, a little sleazy, and very much a reluctant hero who does the right thing when he has to. In 2019, Jackson would go so far as to tell late night host Jimmy Fallon that Mitch Hennessy is his personal favorite role. The remainder of the cast is fine, with Brian Cox particularly standing out. His declarative statement about the ultimate results of a small lapdog continually licking his asshole really hit home for me and is reason enough alone to watch this film.  

Ultimately, even though I personally went to see it during its theatrical run, THE LONG KISS GOODNIGHT underwhelmed at the box office in 1996. It grossed around $90 million worldwide on a budget of around $65 million. But that’s fine to me, I enjoyed it in 1996, and I enjoyed it again when I watched it today!