“Anatomy of a Murder” (1959)

Anatomy of a Murder

Grade: A

Otto Preminger’s nearly-three-hour classic, Anatomy of a Murder, is the most gripping courtroom drama in American movie history. Why? Because it’s the most realistic. How many other movies are taught in law school and film school? Aspiring lawyers study it, and movie buffs become aspiring lawyers because of it.

Directing:

In Anatomy of a Murder, the murder itself is not up for debate: Lt. Frederick Manion killed Barney Quill in cold blood to avenge the alleged rape of his promiscuous wife (all of which occurred before the film began). This isn’t a whodunnit; rather, it’s a was-he-justified-in-doing-it, with the flaws and loopholes of the American legal system revealed via Manion’s defense of temporary insanity. To make us feel like we’re right there in the courtroom, Preminger uses spare editing and restrained camera movement to highlight the back-and-forths and to-and-fros between the major players, the natural ebbs and flows of the trial becoming tangible.

Preminger doesn’t manipulate us with cinematic technique; instead, he lets the various characters attempt that for themselves. By keeping melodrama to a minimum and allowing us to come to our own conclusions, Preminger puts us right inside the jury and crafts the most realistic trial movie ever made.

Acting:

The characterization is so compelling because the first-rate actors are all at the top of their game. James Stewart plays Paul Biegler, the good-natured small-town defense attorney whose calculated outbursts and astute attention to detail show him to be as sly as he is sympathetic. He’s the one who “coaches” Lt. Manion to adopt the temporary insanity plea, after all. Meanwhile, George C. Scott (in one of his first roles) is terrific as the well-spoken yet fiery prosecutor, Claude Dancer. Even though Dancer doesn’t appear until halfway through the film, his unrelenting toughness is the perfect counter to Stewart’s folksy persona.

Every actor knocks it out of the park, which is why the film’s pacing is so tight. Whenever someone new takes the stand, our eyes are glued to the screen and our ears hang on every word, whether it’s Ben Gazzara as the off-putting murderer on trial or Joseph Welch (real-life lawyer of the McCarthy hearings) as the pragmatic judge. Look up tour de force in the Colin’s Review Dictionary^TM, and you’ll see a picture of Anatomy of a Murder‘s cast.

Writing:

Based on the 1957 novel of the same name by Robert Traver, Anatomy of a Murder is brilliant in its no-stone-unturned storyline. Even though we don’t get to see the voir dire or the closing arguments, we’re privy to all the rest of the painstaking research and preparation that goes into such a big case. Biegler is a great lawyer — more than that, he’s a believable one. Because he works so efficiently, and because every scene of the film directly pertains to the case, we’re easily enraptured by the storyline, forced to pay attention to every detail.

The bulk of the film takes place in the courtroom during the cross examinations, which are extremely well-paced and absorbing. Kudos to screenwriter Wendell Mayes for giving Anatomy of a Murder a “trial of the century” atmosphere without resorting to the sensationalized plot twists that are staples of so many other genre films. The naturalistic dialogues — and naturalistic deliveries — are what set Anatomy of a Murder apart from other great films of the era. This is the shortest three-hour film you’ll ever see.

Music:

Duke Ellington’s jazz score is a cultural milestone (the first Hollywood soundtrack by a black man) that fills the film with modern, fast-paced joie de vivre. The big band and cool jazz arrangements are the perfect accompaniment to the virtuoso solos and close-knit synergy that the actors deliver in the courtroom. Even when listened to outside the film’s context, Ellington’s soundtrack is a very good jazz album. Anatomy of a Murder should be required curriculum in music school, too.

Ending (SPOILERS):

The damning piece of evidence that kills the prosecution’s case is when a key witness is revealed to be the murdered man’s daughter (not a mistress, as Dancer previously thought). Benefitting from a great build-up, it’s a terrific — albeit a tad premature — climax that justifies the immediate jump to the resolution (the closing arguments and not-guilty verdict occur offscreen).

Even though the dénouement can feel like a bit of a letdown (Manion and his wife skip town without paying Biegler), Preminger provides an appropriately wry look at our modern society: the laws may change, but the people do not. Everyone gets their hands dirty, noble intentions or otherwise. The system works. Or maybe it doesn’t. Justice is served. Or maybe it isn’t. Life goes on.

“How can a jury disregard what it’s already heard?” – Lt. Frederick Manion

Why Anatomy of a Murder gets an A

The best American courtroom movie ever made. Better than Mulligan’s To Kill a Mockingbird (1962), better than Wilder’s Witness for the Prosecution (1957), even better than Lumet’s 12 Angry Men (1957). An underrated classic. One of the finest movies of the 1950s.

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