Based on the best-selling novel of the same name written by Michigan Supreme Court Justice John D. Voelker, Otto Preminger's (The Man with the Golden Arm, Advise & Consent) 1959 courtroom drama, Anatomy of a Murder, is incredibly noteworthy for a variety of reasons. Besides being considered one of the finest pure trial film ever made, it also features one of Saul Bass's most celebrated title sequences and an entrancing jazz score by Duke Ellington. The film was also revolutionary in both its unflinching look at both sex and rape and for the way Otto Preminger went about making it, acting as both director and producer on the picture, directly challenging both the MPAA's Production Code of Censorship and the dreaded Hollywood Blacklist in the process.
Mirroring one of Voelker's own cases, Anatomy of a Murder centers around a small-town lawyer in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The lawyer, Paul Biegler (played by James "Call Me Jimmy" Stewart), is a former district attorney who has lost his recent re-election bid and now spends most of his time fly fishing, playing piano and reading old law books with his alcoholic friend and colleague Parnell McCarthy (Arthur O'Connell) or joking with his acerbic secretary Maida Rutledge (Eve Arden). One night Biegler is contacted by Mrs. Laura Manion (Lee Remick) who tells Biegler that her husband, US Army Lieutenant Frederick "Manny" Manion (Ben Gazzara), has been arrested on first-degree murder charges for killing local barkeep Barney Quill. Manion does not deny killing Quill, but claims that it was his reaction to finding out his wife had been raped by Quill. After repeat conversations with both of the Manions, Biegler (and McCarthy, whom he has asked for helped) decides to except Lieutenant Manion's case and the rest of the film follows him as he develops and presents his defense.
As I've already mentioned, today Anatomy of a Murder is considered to be one of the finest and most accurate trial films to date. So much so that it is often thought to be more appreciated by law professors and students than by film critics. (Which is saying a lot, if its 100% Fresh Rating on Rotten Tomatoes is any indication.) Seeing why this should be the case isn't to difficult. From the get-go, Anatomy had everything going for it. John Voelker was a Michigan Supreme Court Justice as well as a defense attorney who both wrote the novel the film was based upon and served as the basis for Jimmy Stewart's character in the film. Voelker also served as a consultant and supervisor on the film. In addition, like most of Preminger's films, Anatomy was shot on-location in Michigan with the courthouse scenes actually being filmed in a Marquette County courthouse. Many of the members of the original trial were also asked to come and sit on set and the judge in the film, Judge Weaver, was played by an actual attorney-turned-celebrity, Joseph N. Welch, who garnered nationwide fame for his participation as head counsel for the United States Army while it was under investigation by Joseph McCarthy's Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations for Communist activities. Undoubtedly, all of these factors provided necessary verisimilitude for Anatomy. However, it's Joseph Welch's involvement that gets at something about actual courtroom drama that many other films and television show seem to brush under the rug.
Perhaps what Anatomy of a Murder should be most commended for is its starkly accurate portrayal of the sheer theatricality of a criminal trial. The assistant district attorney (Brooks West) waits until everyone has been seated in the courtroom to formally introduce Claude Dancer (an up-and-coming George C. Scott), the Assistant State Attorney General who will assist him during the trial. Throughout the trial, Dancer oscillates back and forth between quietly smugging away in his seat and intensely grilling his witness, at one point almost sticking his nose into the witness stand to leer at Lee Remick's admittedly gorgeous Mrs. Manion. The judge basks silence, staring at the ceiling, first to the left and then to the right, milking all of the tension (and the spotlight) out of the moment before finally declaring "Objection overruled." It's often said that art imitates life and vice versa and Anatomy of a Murder brilliantly brings to light the fact that real-life judges, defendants, witnesses and especially lawyers put on as much of an act as the performers paid to play them.
Throughout the film, Paul Biegler is constantly twisting his clients' images and stories to better suit his needs and give him the greatest odds of winning the trial. Much of the film outside of the courtroom is spent showing the thing every lawyer does and hates the most - research. Biegler first meets with his clients and manipulates them into exactly what he needs to win the case. He sees (and flirts) with Mrs. Manion and demands that she dress more like a librarian than her usual voluptuous self for the remainder of the trial. She may not be this sweet, conservative lady, but that's the image he'll have her portray in during the trial. Likewise, Mr. Manion is clearly a hot-headed, jealous type and probably knew exactly what he was doing when he murdered Mr. Quill. Biegler clearly understands this fact and informs Mr. Manion that if he committed the murder under temporary insanity, Mr. Manion might have a better chance of getting acquitted. He then steps out of the holding room to allow Mr. Manion to think this over and adjust his story accordingly.
Nearly everything Biegler does in order to win his case involves him putting on a show for his audience. He brings in Mrs. Manion's talented terrier into the courtroom - not to bring in its important involvement in the brutal assault of Mrs. Manion, but to entertainment the courtroom by doing a little dance and hoping into the dastardly Mr. Dancer's lap. Similarly, when Mrs. Manion's looks are brought into question, Biegler has her dramatically reveal the gorgeous blonde locks hidden under her hat to the delight of all the men in the courtroom. There's even an air of theatricality in Jimmy Stewart's classic warble. Anytime Biegler raises his voice to shout an objection, you're never sure if his indignation is borne out of his legitmate disgust with the prosecution's actions towards his clients or if it's a product of his anxiety that the procecution might uncover something damning about his clients that will cause him to lose the case. Anything that Biegler does (really anything that anyone in the courtroom does) is tinged with ambiguity.
From the very beginning, seen in the way Otto Preminger chooses to shoot Anatomy of a Murder, it's clear what an important role ambiguity plays in the film. Preminger's unbiased (some might say cold or clinical) techniques allow the audience to come to their own conclusion about these characters. Yes, it's easy to come down on the side of Paul Biegler, but that's because he's the character with whom the audience spends most of their time. However, nothing Preminger does gives us clear-cut information on who, if anyone, is truly good or bad in this film. The prosecution, especially Mr. Dancer, appear cruel even heartless towards the Manions. But, as I have said earlier, all of this has an air of theatricality. One could as easily argue that Dancer is putting on a gruff face in order to elicit the response he wants from his witnesses. The same can be said for Paul Biegler (whose reasons for taking the case are never clearly presented) and the Manions. It is completely possible that Mrs. Manion was raped and that in a bout of temporary insanity Mr. Manion murdered her alleged attacker. But we as the audience are never shown this. We, just like the people of the jury, have to decide based on the presentations of the prosecution and defense what really happened.
Anatomy of a Murder is a wonderful film because not only is it able to accurately present the processes of law, in doing so the pervasive ambiguities of the film morph the audience into a jury in its own right. We as an audience are forced to both directly confront these horrific accusations and the people involved and come to a conclusion about right and wrong based on that information. And, like the members of fictional as well as real-life juries, we are forced to live with the consequences and moral implications of our decisions. A great movie is one that challenges an audience and forces them to think about how what the film is communicating applies to their everyday life. Anatomy of a Murder is able to accomplish this while remaining a spectacularly entertaining and impeccably accurate courtroom drama. Anatomy of a Murder may not be as shocking as it was in 1959, few things are. But it remains a challenging showcase of brilliant talent that more than earns its spot in the Criterion Collection and the label of "Classic."
