Otto Preminger | 154 mins | TV | 12
Anatomy of a Murder is a courtroom drama, adapted from a novel by a real-life defence attorney (“defense attorney”, I suppose), who in turn based his fiction on a real case. This background not only adds to the veracity of what we see, but likely explains the film’s style and structure.
The story is intensely procedural: we meet the lead character, defence attorney Paul Biegler (James Stewart), moments before he first learns of the case; leave the story almost immediately after the verdict; and in between, every single scene is bent to Biegler’s research and the trial itself. It’s so thorough, accurate and real that it is (reportedly) still used as a working example in law education. The complete lack of flashbacks or definitive truth is a perfectly judged part of this: we only know what Biegler would; only hear what would come up in trial; can only be as certain as he and the jury are of the motives and testimonies of all involved.
By the end we have a verdict from the trial, but Preminger leaves what happened slightly ambiguous. We know what everyone claims happened and the facts of what little evidence there is, but there’s still room for interpretation. Despite this, Preminger, Stewart and screenwriter Wendell Mayes have us rooting for the murderer and his attorney by the end: Biegler’s case may be dubious, the man he’s defending likely guilty, but the moment he casually hands over the law book that contains the case-turning precedent is almost victorious; and the moment where the final witness is cross-examined had me literally sitting forward in my seat (this, I should point out, is not a regular occurrence), just waiting for the irritatingly slick and cocksure A.D.A. to ask that one question, fatal to his prosecution… and when he finally does, and receives the answer that we know is inevitable — and, crucially and brilliantly, so does a suddenly-unobjecting Biegler — is triumphant. It’s a perfectly constructed climax to a perfectly constructed tale.
A lot of this support is down to Stewart’s performance — it feels wrong to be cheering the defence counsel of a murderer, even if he had a justifiable motive (which, remember, he may not have) — but we’d probably cheer Stewart on if he was the murderer. His Biegler is always in control, from investigation to courtroom, even when by rights he should be completely out of it. He manipulates the judge, the prosecution, the jury and the crowd to perfection; the viewer sits by his side — we know he’s playing them so we can revel in it — but, in turn, he manipulates us too, tempting us to his team — to laugh at his jokes, to support his case, to loathe the prosecution, even though they might be right. It’s a stellar lead performance.
But in the face of this no one drops a trick — the cast are without exception fabulous. Lee Remick is stunning as Laura Manion, a case of truly faultless casting as she plays every femme fatale-esque beat to perfection. From forthright temptress to harassed and frightened under the glare of cross examination, she is never less than wholly believable. Her performance is second only to Stewart’s by default. Then there’s George C. Scott as that A.D.A., pitched exactly right between slimy and righteous, quiet and controlled at all times, apparently aware that Biegler is playing everyone but unable to prevent it — and most certainly not above using equally underhand tactics.
I could just as well go on to praise Ben Gazzara, Arthur O’Connell, Eve Arden, Brooks West, even the smaller roles occupied by Kathryn Grant, Orson Bean, Murray Hamilton and others. Some criticise Joseph N. Welch’s judge, and it’s perhaps true that his performance is a little less refined than the others, but as a slightly eccentric judge he comes off fine. And to round things off, there’s an incredibly cute dog. Mayes’ screenplay is a gift to them all, finding room for character even within the ceaselessly procedural structure, using small dashes of dialogue or passing moments to reveal and deepen each one.
There are police and legal procedurals on TV all the time these days, but that doesn’t detract from the powerful screenplay, acting and direction here. Perhaps it’s the realism, perhaps it’s a collection of filmmakers at the top of their game, but even after innumerable 45- to 90-minute chunks of this kind of thing being served up several times a week, Preminger and co can keep it thoroughly engrossing for a full 160. I can’t think of a current TV show that could manage the same feat. Absolutely brilliant.
Anatomy of a Murder placed 4th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2010, which can be read in full here.
Juno followed in the footsteps of films like 
I always assumed this was British, probably because it stars Billy Connolly and has a suitably quirky premise — one can see it fitting in with the school of British comedy that’s brought us 
His Girl Friday is an acknowledged classic — 19th on the 
There are times when one feels under-qualified to review a film in a way that gives it its due. This happens particularly frequently when one’s blog covers first-time viewings of films that are often classics/significant/beloved/etc. My appreciation for Exiled has been increased by two other, more qualified, reviews: one from 
Denzel Washington and Tony Scott have now served as star and director (respectively, as if you didn’t know) on four films, with 
First, a little note on that aka: technically — and, I believe, legally — no such title is attached to this project. However, the initial idea was developed by Koontz and, after he left the project, adapted into his Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein series of novels. Despite the ‘creative disagreement’ (or whatever they chose to call it) that led him to walk away, the film retains significant similarities to the first book. More on these in a moment.
M is a film of immense significance, not least because of its place on 
the public reaction and hysteria; the police’s flailing investigations and increasing exasperation; the criminal underworld, who begin their own manhunt because police inquiries are “bad for business” (despite sounding like a filmic conceit, this element was directly inspired by a newspaper article); and the criminal himself — trying to lay low, but constantly having to fight his urges… and ultimately giving in to them again.
how they search crime scenes with a fine-tooth comb; another sequence shows their methodology for staging a raid; and so on. Such precise and clinical methods ultimately pay off: it’s a pair of tiny clues, carefully reasoned and sought out, that reveal the killer’s identity — and if it weren’t for the criminals getting there first, they’d’ve surely caught him too. Indeed, were it not for this breakthrough then the film might hold a 
like tracking from outside to inside through a window within a single shot — are present here). M’s individual moments of brilliance go on — perhaps my favourite is when the police arrive just after the criminals have apprehended Beckert. We don’t even see an officer on screen, but the burglar’s reactions let us know who’s there. Its a funny moment (even if we’ve seen it dozens of times since) and a lovely shot too.
the murderer won’t bring the children back, and warns viewers to watch out for their own. It’s not the triumphant “we got him!” that concludes most serial killer films, but a blunt warning that, though Beckert has been caught, there are always more out there, waiting to strike. History has sadly proven her right; but while the world has produced many men and women like M’s villain, it hasn’t produced many films quite like M.
The third theatrical release to star Krister Henriksson as Henning Mankell’s detective is the thirteenth and final episode in the first series. It has a suitably Season Finale feel to it — “this time it’s personal” and all that — but also subtly constructs itself to work as the standalone piece necessary for a theatrical release schedule that skipped six whole episodes.
100Films.co.uk 