In
contemporary popular fiction and cinema, John Grisham is to the dusty courtroom
what Stephen King is to the dank basement. If one deals with ghosts and
monsters, the unspeakable fears lurking in the depths of the soul, the other
probes the more familiar and, in our litigious time, the more palpable
anxieties of the here and now, the familiar and plausible surfaces of everyday
life. Although the number of screen translations of his works is unlikely to
surpass King’s movies, in general Grisham benefits from more intelligent
adaptations, better scripts and directors. All of that results, as with Runaway Jury, in considerably more
successful films.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย One source of that success may
originate in the education of the public in the intricacies of the American
legal system. The media, especially cable television, both create and feed an
apparently voracious appetite for almost anything involving criminal justice
— fictional and nonfictional cop shows, lawyer shows, Court TV, the
continuous slavering over high-profile cases on the news channels,
documentaries about forensic medicine, and all those comically bogus FBI
profilers on the talking head shows, who earnestly and minutely describe
suspects, even though they obviously couldn’t catch a cold on a wet night. No
wonder Grisham’s books and the movies based on them win wide audiences and big
bucks.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย In Runaway Jury the familiar courtroom drama takes some rather
complicated paths to its verdict. It concentrates, as its title implies, on the
jury, and moves much of its action outside the courthouse itself. Instead of
focusing on the attorneys arguing a particular case in the usual manner, the
film deals with the work of jury consultants, who advise lawyers about
selecting the right — i.e., cooperative and sympathetic — jurors to decide
on their cases. In the process of revealing the methods of a hotshot
consultant, Rankin Fitch (Gene Hackman), the movie also suggests the supremacy
of the adviser over his lawyer client, his power to discern the personalities
of the jurors and manipulate them in any direction he chooses, so that
ultimately he decides the outcome of a case.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Some of the most fascinating
sequences in the picture show the actual methods of the brilliant and entirely
unscrupulous consultant, hired to defend a New Orleans gun manufacturer in a
civil suit over the sale of an assault weapon to a man who went berserk and
shot up a stockbroker’s office. Reiterating his cynical belief that everybody
conceals some dirty secret, Hackman employs extensive research, all sorts of
unethical video and audio surveillance, illegal wiretaps, and even strong-arm
tactics to find out every potential juror’s history and vulnerability. He and
his staff exploit every weakness they can discover, corrupting, blackmailing,
and intimidating their way to the verdict they are hired to deliver.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย He encounters an unexpected problem
in the person of John Cusack, who plays a juror with his own agenda and who,
with his partner (Rachel Weisz), conducts some skilled manipulation of his own.
Weisz and Cusack offer to deliver the jury to Hackman for the paltry sum of 10
million dollars. When the desperate attorney for the plaintiffs (Dustin
Hoffman) discovers that Hackman has somehow prevented his star witness from
testifying, the couple makes him a similar offer. Much of the subsequent action
of the film involves a most complicated cat-and-mouse game. The couple plays
the two sides against one another, and Hackman and his crew attempt to hunt
them down.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย While even the best courtroom dramas
and legal thrillers usually settle into an essentially static theater in the
round, with the usual careful staging, obvious dialectic, well-orchestrated
patterns of triumphs and defeats, and predictable results, Runaway Jury maintains a constant flow of action and an excitement.
With American film’s typical mastery of process, the movie makes the sheer
mechanics of the consultant’s work utterly fascinating. The director’s rapid
cuts, the skillful use of montage, the frequent intercutting of two or three
separate and parallel lines of action, the absolute mastery of rhythm through
both filming and editing create a terrific sense of intensity and a relentless
pace. The movie never lets up, never cheats, hardly even pauses.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Needing twelve people on the jury,
along with the attorneys and the courtroom personnel, such movies usually
display the talents of a whole ensemble of actors. In the case of Runaway Jury, however, a group of
accomplished performers, all stars in their own right, add further luster to
the large cast. Everybody expects outstanding work from actors like Dustin
Hoffman, John Cusack, and Gene Hackman, and nobody will be disappointed in
their performances here, even if Hoffman seems an unlikely Southerner. The
supporting players, moreover, show themselves as interesting and individual as
the stars.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Not surprisingly, even among a group
of highly accomplished performers, Gene Hackman simply dominates the movie. His
immense and cheerful cynicism, his absolute sense of command, and his sheer
presence make him a compelling figure in every scene. It is a tribute to the
other actors that they can hold their own when they must share the screen with
him. He demonstrates one of the several elements that makes Runaway Jury one of the best legal
thrillers in years, a tight, seamless connection linking actors, script,
direction, and meaning, most of it embodied in Hackman, one of the outstanding
actors in a great generation of actors.
Runaway Jury, starring Gene Hackman,
Dustin Hoffman, John Cusack, Rachel Weisz, Bruce Davison, Bruce McGill, Nick
Searcy, Jeremy Piven; based on the novel by John Grisham; screenplay by Brian
Kippleman, David Levien, Rick Cleveland, Matthew Carpenter; directed by Gary
Fleder.
You
can hear George and his movie reviews on WXXI-FM 91.5 Fridays at 7:20 a.m.,
rerun on Saturdays at 8:50 a.m.
This article appears in Oct 15-21, 2003.
