Presumed Innocent (Dir. Alan J. Pakula, 1990)
Synopsis:
Deputy Prosecuting Attorney Rusty Sabich (Harrison Ford) is assigned by his boss Raymond Horgan (Brian Dennehy) to investigate the murder of colleague, Carolyn Polhemus (Greta Scacchi). Unbeknownst to everyone except Sabich’s wife, Barbara (Bonnie Bedelia), he’d had a brief affair with the victim 6 months previously and when the affair had ended, had continued to obsess over Carolyn and stalk her. When a glass containing his fingerprints are found at the scene, the affair becomes public knowledge and he becomes the prime suspect in the case. Along with his lawyer, Sandy Stern (Raul Julia), Sabich must now find a way to prove his innocence, when the circumstantial evidence and his connection to the victim make him look guilty.
The end of the 80s and beginning of the 90s saw a massive increase in courtroom thrillers, with films such as Jagged Edge, Suspect, Music Box — generally trading on the wholesome screen persona of the leading man (who was the defendant) in a “did he/didn’t he?” situation, as he was defended by his leading lady (who invariably had some form of romantic or personal relationship with him). This film stands apart from that tradition somewhat. Firstly, it was adapted from Scott Turow (a lawyer himself)’ s best-selling novel and so has a much greater air of legal authenticity than something like the Joe Eszterhas-scripted Jagged Edge. Secondly, it dispenses with the romantic subplot entirely, and what we get is a legal drama overlaid with a family drama, as we see the consequences of an affair and the subsequent murder on Sabich and his family.
On it’s release, this was hailed as a major return to form for director Alan J. Pakula and whilst not quite on the scale of 1970s masterpieces: Klute, Parallax View and All The President’s Men, it’s certainly better than the films he made in between or the truly atrocious and misguided Devil’s Own, which he and Ford would then subsequently make together some years later. It pairs him, once again with the late, great Gordon Willis (The Godfather, Manhattan) who shot those trio of brilliant films for him in the 70s and whilst the cinematography is not quite as daring in it’s extreme use of light and shadow, you can see the legacy of Willis’ work on Klute in the scenes of Sabich sitting at home examining the evidence; the policeman coming to search the house closing the front door turning the screen to black, and Carolyn’s face in shadow as she sits on her desk and seduces Rusty in flashback. Like his seventies work, the colour scheme here is deliberately muted. From the dark browns and grays of the clothes and decor in the courtroom and the Sabich household, to the faded and peeling orange paint on the hallways of the Prosecuting Attorney’s office. The character of Carolyn provides the only elements of colour in the film: from her light blue suit in her flashback scenes to the red bloodstain on the white rug in her apartment. It’s as if, once gone, her character has leeched all the colour out of Rusty’s life.
The performances are all top notch. Ford gives one of the nicely restrained performances that he specialized in during the end of the 80s, early 90s (Witness, Frantic) presumably to offset the larger than life characters in the Star Wars and Indiana Jones movies. However, this film allows him to portray a much weaker and more flawed character than any other during this period. Sabich is not a hero or a sex symbol. In fact, I think it’s fair to say that I think Ford cries more in this film than in any other he’s ever done… So it’s curious that when looking back over Ford’s body of work this film isn’t mentioned more often. I seem to remember that, at the time of release, most of the critics seemed to focus on the character’s unflattering hairstyle, rather than Ford’s unusually vulnerable performance.
The supporting cast are all superb, with nicely charismatic turns from both the late Raul Julia (who was always brilliant) and Paul Winfield as the Judge presiding over the case.
However, despite the overall greatness of the rest of the cast, the truly powerhouse performances here, are those of the two main actresses in the film: Scacchi and Bedelia.
As Carolyn, Scacchi pulls off the amazing feat of making a woman (who we only ever really see from Rusty’s point-of-view) who is ultimately a complete enigma, both seductive and obviously manipulative. You can see clearly why Rusty (and several other characters) fell for her and then had trouble accepting the end of the relationship and yet, for all her calculated attempts to gain political power at work, you’re never left feeling she deserves her cruel end.
Her role as Sabich’s wife, gives Bonnie Bedelia the greatest role of her career other than that of Holly Maclane in the Die Hard movies. In contrast to the tough and resourceful woman she portrayed in those movies however, her character here is far more complex, fragile and, ultimately, terrifying. Her final speech in the film is absolutely superb: beginning sad and emotionless, becoming happy and joyous, before sinking back into regret and guilt and ending on a note of triumph and, seemingly, hope (even though it maybe a false hope).
It’s the film’s low-key, downbeat ending that both sets it apart from the other legal thrillers of that era and gives it it’s ultimate power. There are no winners here and the line between heroes and villains is blurred by everyone’s culpability in either Carolyn’s murder or Rusty’s acquittal. Friendships and relationships have been tested and in many cases broken and all that is left is guilt. A guilt that cannot be assessed or addressed in a courtroom but will continue to hang over the main characters for the rest of the lives.
The final outstanding element in this film’s mix is the superb, understated score by composer John Williams. I’m sure for those chiefly familiar with Williams’ work on mega blockbusters such as the Star Wars films or Superman or Raiders Of The Lost Ark, “understated” is not necessarily the most obvious adjective to describe his work. However, it’s worth remembering that even in those huge scores, he’ll often create intimate and pastoral themes to underscore families or village life: listen to his beautiful compositions for horns and woodwind a that he uses to underscore the town of Amity in Jaws for example… In this film and the same year’s The Accidental Tourist he was given the chance to create entire scores full of this lovely, restrained writing; mixing strings, woodwind and occasionally French horn, with a romantic piano melody and some subtle synth lines and textures. The score is a personal favorite of mine, which I often listen to whilst out walking, and yet another reason to reacquaint yourself with excellent and classy, but now often over-looked, movie.
