Tag Archives: courtroom dramas

New In Theaters

Historical Precedent

Leave a comment

The Burial

by George Wolf

Point of order: early on, The Burial understands your objections about many courtroom dramas.

“Sounds like a nap waitin’ to happen!”

Rest easy. Director/co-writer Maggie Betts and an electric ensemble take inspiration from a true “David v Goliath” court case, and give it a new shine that boasts humor, humanity, style, and a vital sense of history.

Back in the mid-1990s, Jeremiah O’Keefe’s (Tommy Lee Jones) small chain of Mississippi-based funeral homes was deep in debt. His longtime lawyer Mike Alred (Alan Ruck) brokered a partial buyout with Vancouver “death care” giant Loewen Corp, but as the months dragged on, rookie lawyer Hal Dockins (Mamoudou Athie, Black Box and Jurassic World Dominion) smelled something foul.

Ray Loewen (Bill Camp) was just waiting for O’Keefe’s small business to bleed out, until Jeremiah had no choice but to sell it all at a bargain basement price.

So, Mike files a lawsuit with hopes for an 8-million-dollar settlement, while Hal hatches a plan to get flamboyant Florida lawyer and parttime preacher Willie Gary (Jamie Foxx) to join the O’Keefe team. Gary hadn’t lost a personal injury case in years and had a private plane (“Wings of Justice!”), but he didn’t do contract law. Hal sells him on the case’s potential (Athie excels in this scene, completely selling us on the film’s pivot), and Gary comes on board, not only refusing to settle but upping the damage amount…to 100 million dollars.

“Boom! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

Gary views litigation as warfare (“Jean Clade Van Damme-like shit!” – legkick!), but Loewen has the formidable Mame Downes (a terrific Jurnee Smollett) on their side, and she’s a young legal phenom who’s earned the nickname “Python.”

Their smiley banter reminds you that the standard course here would be a secret romance outside the courtroom. But it is not lost on these two lawyers that they are African Americans representing old white men in the deep South, and the film is able mine this issue with grace and subtlety.

This is a perfect vehicle for the Oscar-winning Foxx, and his magnetic performance reaffirms the depth of his talent. The spot-on impressions and oversized characterizations aren’t hiding an ability to find nuance. Foxx makes sure we see the heart under Gary’s flashy exterior, and it’s hard to take your eyes off of him.

Jones, more tender than usual, is equally suited to play Jeremiah, a man committed to providing for his large family (13 kids, 24 grandchildren) after he is gone.

There isn’t a weak spot in the cast, as Betts (Novitiate) keeps things humming with a pace that’s rarely derailed by any legal minutiae. The opening statements alone, edited to become a rapid-fire debate between counsels, serve notice that there will be no time for napping.

And if a “cheer for the little guy” moral is all that The Burial offered, it would be a worthwhile crowd-pleaser. But there is more to that title than just a reference to the funeral business.

From the amusing meeting between an admittedly “little bit prejudiced” Mike and the all-Black legal team he must work with, to some hushed and stirring moments beside an old slave cemetery, Betts slyly addresses the question of why it always has to be about race.

Because it’s always about race, and power, and oppression, no matter who is trying to bury that piece of America’s past. It’s a lesson that’s part of our present, as well, and The Burial builds an entertaining bridge between a decades-old court case and a never-ending struggle.

New In Theaters

Presumed Guilty

Leave a comment

Just Mercy

by George Wolf

You may have noticed there’s no shortage of films exposing the miscarriages of justice that have landed innocent people on Death Row.

Sadly, that’s because there’s no shortage of innocent people on Death Row.

So while the prevailing themes in Just Mercy are not new, the sadly ironic truth is their familiarity brings an added layer of inherent sympathy to the film, which helps offset the by-the-numbers approach taken by director/co-writer Destin Daniel Cretton.

Cretton and co-writer Andrew Lanham adapt the 2014 memoir by Bryan Stevenson, an attorney and founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, that details Stevenson’s years providing legal counsel to the poor and wrongly convicted in Alabama.

The film keeps its main focus on the case of Walter McMillan (Jamie Foxx), who, by the time Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) comes along, has long accepted his death sentence for the murder of an 18 year-old white woman. But by winning over Walter’s extended family, Stevenson gains Walter’s trust, along with plenty of threats from the Alabama good ol’ boys once he starts exposing the outrageous violations during Walter’s “fair trial.”

It’s clear that Cretton (Short Term 12, The Glass Castle) is firmly committed to respectful accuracy in his adaptation, which is commendable. The authenticity of the roadblocks, impassioned speeches or blood-boiling examples of bigotry are never in doubt, but it’s only the ferocious talents of Jordan and Foxx that keep Just Mercy from collapsing under the weight of its own unchecked righteousness.

As sympathetic as Walter’s situation is, the script never quite sees him as a real person, painting only in shades of hero. Oscar winner Brie Larson, a Cretton favorite, is wasted as EJI co-founder Eva Ansley, who seems included more out of respect than for what the character ultimately adds to the narrative.

Jordan has the most to work with here, and – no surprise – he makes the most of it. Peripheral cases help Jordan give Stevenson the needed edges of a man who is equally driven by his failures, doggedly committed to helping those he identifies with so deeply, those who, as Walter puts it, are “guilty from the moment you’re born.”

Though it comes out swinging with heavy hands, Just Mercy steadies itself in time to become an effective portrait of systemic injustice. You will be moved, but with a force that is muted by simple convention.

New In Theaters

Hot Hand

Leave a comment

Molly’s Game

by Hope Madden

As screenwriters go, few have as noticeable a presence as Aaron Sorkin. A Sorkin screenplay = smart people saying smart things really quickly, over top of each other, often while walking.

His are dialogue-driven character pieces where brilliant people throw intellectual and moral challenges at one another while the audience wonders whether the damaged protagonist’s moral compass can still find true north.

That struggling hero this time around is Molly Bloom, played by the always-sharp Jessica Chastain. On first blush, the idea that Sorkin—directing his first feature—would choose to focus on a gossip-page celebrity criminal seems wrong. Bloom became tabloid fodder after her arrest made her high stakes, celebrity-filled poker games big news.

Gossip is not Sorkin’s wheelhouse, but unsung, solitary brilliance is and that’s what he hopes you see in Bloom, an Olympic-class skier with Harvard Law plans who found herself hosting insane poker games before realizing she had the wherewithal to build an epically lucrative business.

This is clear movie-of-the-week stuff elevated to something worthwhile because Sorkin is more interested in the evolution and entrapment of a brilliant mind than he is in movie stars playing poker. Although there is some of that, too, and it is provocatively handled by Michael Cera.

Playing against type and relishing the opportunity, Cera’s “Player X”—the Big Movie Star who just likes to ruin lives—is a spoiled brat and the performance is stand-out nasty.

The always underused Idris Elba is underused but excellent as Bloom’s reluctant-but-coming-around attorney Charley Jaffe. His slower, looser style counters Chastain’s machine gun cadence and the chemistry helps to keep the courtroom preparation interesting.

The problem with Molly’s Game—aside from its sometimes amazing similarities to Chastain’s 2016 courtroom drama Miss Sloane—are its many Sorkinisms. Chastain opens the film with an incredibly lengthy voiceover monologue providing all Molly’s backstory in the film’s first big misfire, but the almost dream-sequence bad scene between Molly and her psychoanalyst father (Kevin Costner) on a park bench is nearly insurmountable, Sorkin fan or no.

Appreciating Molly’s Game helps if you are a Sorkin fan. He has a particular style and, since he’s directing this one as well, there is no getting away from that style. There’s no David Fincher or Danny Boyle to supply a bit of visual flair to offset all of Sorkin’s writerly tendencies. Sorkin is everywhere, which is not necessarily a bad thing if you like sharp performances about smart people doing fascinating things.