The Verdict (Sidney Lumet, 1982): What the hell--we were talking about Glengarry Glen Ross last week, so we might as well spend a little more time on the filmic work of David Mamet. Mamet's got a picture in theatres right now, The Winslow Boy, that is so uncharacteristic of his work (although it's still pretty great) that it's worth looking back at the history and seeing what exactly this guy is into.

The Verdict, tautly directed by Sidney Lumet, is a great piece of Mamet, and it's also a great piece of courtroom drama. When a picture like A Civil Action or Primal Fear bends over sideways to try to distinguish itself from the standard courtroom fare, the film it's trying to distinguish itself from, in the modern era at least, is The Verdict. That's not an indictment of the film . . . just because it's archetypical, doesn't mean it isn't terrific. Sure it's got all of the standard stuff: a good guy lawyer in need of redemption, a witness who turns up missing, another one who turns up unexpectedly to foil the bad guy lawyers, and a surprise verdict. But all these standard things are presented amid great drama, a ballsy performance by Paul Newman, and a roller coaster ride's worth of twists and turns.

Newman plays Frank Galvin, an ambulance chasing alcoholic who's had 4 cases in three years and has lost every one of them. His associate played by Jack Warden has set him up with a sure thing: an anesthesiologist botched an operation and turned a pretty young girl into a vegetable. The hospital is owned by the Roman Catholic Church, and God knows the Catholics have got deep pockets. All Galvin's got to do is present himself at the offices of the archdiocese, ask for money, and collect the check, one third of which will be his fee.

It's his chance to get back on his feet, but wouldn't you know it, right when the Catholics offer him a settlement ($210,000 which, coincidentally, splits perfectly into thirds) he suddenly develops a conscience and decides he's going to take this thing to trial.

He's in way over his head. His star witness suddenly takes a long vacation to the tropics, and the Catholics have a stodgy but powerful law firm behind them, headed up by the brilliant and malign Edward J. Concannon (James Mason). Concannon's squad of lawyers make mincemeat of Galvin's case and his "expert" witness, and soon it becomes clear that Galvin should have just taken the $210,000 and headed to the nearest bar to celebrate.

But somehow (I won't say how), faced with defeat, humiliation, and disbarment, Galvin manages to pull one out. Sure, he has to commit a few misdemeanors, but that's standard stuff for the genre. In the end, he manages to recover his dignity. As for whether he wins the case, I'm keeping mum.

The desperate man making all the wrong choices . . . it's very Mamet. And it's also very Mamet that one of the last things keeping him down is a treacherous girlfriend played by Charlotte Rampling. Rampling's sin isn't just that she fails to provide him sufficient emotion support--no, her betrayal goes much deeper than that. Without giving anything away, I'll just say that the moment in which Galvin decks her in a crowded restaurant is one of the movie's great audience-pleasers. It's a mark of good writing that when the hero hits his girlfriend the audience actually cheers. I know I for one would never condone such behavior, but if any chick ever had it coming . . . Well, I've said too much already.

But chick-beating aside, (oh, and Catholic bashing, too. Those bishops are real snakes) The Verdict is a great nailbiter of a drama about a guy who decides to do the right thing at exactly the wrong moment. A magistratical must see.