The Glory and Pitfalls of the Adversarial Justice System
Otto Preminger’s Anatomy of a Murder (1959) is fifty-seven years old. Nevertheless, it remains the finest trial drama ever put on film. It is impossible for me to put into words why my love affair with this film runs so deep. I first watched Anatomy of a Murder when I was a naïve twenty-year old. This was before I even thought about going to law school. Back then the film stood out to me for being tremendously entertaining with great performances, especially by James Stewart. Now, the film has a deeper meaning for me. It is a fascinating study of the adversarial system of justice and its moral consequences.
The film, based on the novel of the same name, details the events of a real 1952 murder trial in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The novel was written by the trial’s defense attorney, John D. Voelker, but published under the pen name John Traver. Otto Preminger decided to shoot the entire film on location believing that a studio set would not feel authentic. The majority of the film was shot in Voelker’s own house and the Courthouse where the actual trial took place. Preminger’s commitment to authenticity is felt in every frame of the film.
Few know that Otto Preminger was just as big as Alfred Hitchcock in the 1950s. It is not just Anatomy of a Murder, it is Otto Preminger’s Anatomy of a Murder – his name received top billing. Preminger graduated from the University of Vienna Law School, but he never practiced law; he was too drawn to theatre. Coming from a period when Nazism was widespread in Europe, he cherished the American system of justice, which constitutionally protected an individual’s freedom of speech. He viewed American lawyers as “actors” for their clients and the best lawyers were the best actors.
Paul Biegler (John Voelker’s representation in the film) is played by the legendary James Stewart. By Biegler’s own admission, he is a ”simple country lawyer,” but a murder case falls in his lap. A lieutenant in the military, Frederick Manion (Ben Gazzara) is charged in the shooting death of local bar owner Barney Quill. Manion’s wife, Laura (Lee Remick) was raped earlier in the evening by Quill, or at least that is what we are supposed to believe. During his visit with Manion at the county jail, Biegler explains the ways in which he can defend murder. He directly asks Manion: “What’s your excuse for shooting Quill?” Manion, with a sinister smirk, says “I must have been mad.” Biegler takes the case, basing the defense on Manion suffering from temporary insanity at the time of the shooting caused by learning of the violent rape of his wife. In other words, he acted on an “irresistible impulse” and cannot be convicted for something he had no control over (no mens rea).
You get the impression that Biegler does not like his client or believe he is innocent. I get the impression he takes the case out of his love of the law and how the case challenges its boundaries. Biegler is your ”zealous advocate” personified. He is morally ambivalent and I am not sure I trust him. I am not sure the audience is meant to. In the courtroom Biegler is an operator, twisting and colouring everything in favour of his client. He is likeable, funny, and quick on his feet. You cheer for him to win. As an audience, and as a jury, we lose sight of what is really important. We become observers of a game and not objective assessors of facts. The judge even refers to his courtroom as “the field of battle.” When Parnell, Biegler’s co-counsel, discovers that Manion’s psychiatrist is very young, he jokes that he hopes his first name is Ludwig because that would give his evidence more weight with the jury. In one of the film’s most devilish moments, the judge instructs the jury to disregard one of Biegler’s improper questions. Frederick Manion asks: “How can a jury disregard what it’s already heard? Biegler responds shaking his head: “They can’t, lieutenant. They can’t.” There must be something morally reprehensible about all of this. When I look at this case objectively, Frederick Manion is guilty of murder. Society cannot permit you to walk up to someone and shoot them, regardless how angry their actions have made you. Right?
Like Biegler, the Manions are morally ambivalent characters. There is something ‘off’ in their relationship. Their few interactions on screen are rich with subtext. They might not even like each other. Gazzara and Remick play on this animosity beautifully. She is terrified of him and he does not trust her. This whole undercurrent places even more doubt on the events in question.
The prosecution is no more morally superior than the defense. They themselves engage in gamesmanship. The lawyer from the Attorney General’s Office in Lansing, Mr. Dancer (George C. Scott, in his first film role), goes toe-to-toe with Biegler. When Laura Manion is in the witness box, Dancer questions her in a seductive manner, believingperhaps it will make her lower her guard.
Preminger had a knack for marketing that went against the grain. He cast Joseph N. Welch, a real judge, as the judge in the film. At the time, Welch was in the public eye as one of the judges to berate Senator Joseph McCarthy at the famous Army-McCarthy hearings. You can tell Welch is not an actor, but it hardly matters. He provides the needed composed authority for the trial; his temperament and sense of humour fit perfectly. The film also contains a jazz score composed by Duke Ellington. Biegler was a jazz aficionado, giving Preminger the idea to score the film this way. At the time, it made no sense for a film set in the country to contain music typically reserved for a big city nightclub. However, the score is another one of the film’s many assets.
It was unheard of in 1959 for a film to openly discuss explicit sexual elements, including rape. Like so many of Preminger’s other works, Anatomy of a Murder was groundbreaking. He was constantly involved in heated and public debates with the censor board regarding distribution approval of his films. This was great for publicity, and he knew it. A pivotal piece of evidence in the trial is Ms. Manion’s underwear. There is a classic scene with the attorneys huddled around the bench trying to determine if there is a better word than “panties” which did not carry such a sexual connotation. The judge’s stern warning to the audience not to laugh, snicker or even smirk when “panties” are mentioned is priceless.
When Preminger brought this film to Russia, there was no issue with the sexual content; however, they did not understand why there was even a trial. Manion was clearly guilty of murder and should have been beheaded. If this does not make you think about our legal system, I don’t know what will.
The trial deals with an overwhelming number of legal issues that we as law students encounter each day (jailhouse informants, impeaching a witness’s credibility, automatism, hearsay, lie-detector results, medical evidence, leading questions, expert evidence, admissibility issues, etc.). The film is as educational as it is entertaining and thought-provoking. The Library of Congress selected the film in 2012 for preservation in the United States Film Registry for its significant cultural and historical contributions to film. My description does not do it justice; Anatomy of a Murder must be watched.