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The Verdict (1982)

A review by Damian Cannon.
Copyright © Movie Reviews UK 1997
We call ourselves civilised, democratic and fair. Yet, somehow, it always seems that the rich win out over the poor, institutions flatten individuals and that greed and injustice are on the winning team. True? Perhaps and all the more reason to cheer on Paul Newman in The Verdict as he struggles to overcome almost overwhelming odds in court, with the bottle and against his reputation. Frank Galvin (Newman) is down-and-out attorney with a drink problem, no cases, no future and a predilection towards self-destruction. Redemption seems to appear courtesy of his long-suffering friend Mickey (Jack Warden) in the form of a medical malpractice suit - a sure-win, if only Frank would do something.

Although Frank seems to be heading along a familiar path (4 cases in 3 years, all defeats) he pulls himself together enough to visit his client; a young woman in a permanent coma due to medical error. Armed with some disturbing photos, and a push from his clients sister, he manages to meet with the trustees of the hospital. They are keen to settle out-of-court and offer Frank a check for $210,000. An easy win and a third of the money as a fee, only Frank refuses the offer! Why? Along the way he's realised that to accept would let the doctors off, would not do his client justice and (greatest of all) would be the final blow to his psyche and self-esteem. So Frank decides to let the jury decide.

Going to court seems a suicidal decision. His client's sister hates him for not taking the money. The defence are a highly-paid, slick team of lawyers headed by the legendary Ed Concannon (James Mason), a smooth operator and a superb lawyer. Even Mickey regards this move as the height of stupidity. The only support comes from Laura (Charlotte Rampling), a woman that Frank picks up in a bar, who seems to understand his fears, feelings and needs. Matters only become worse when they lose their star witness days before the trial and Frank's self-defeat threatens to rise and engulf him before even entering the courtroom. However, once before the jury, Frank and Mickey are led a rough ride by the defence. By the end of the trial we are presented with a verdict which is simultaneously surprising, anti-Hollywood and fitting.

The stunning performance by Newman provides the heart and soul of The Verdict as he shows how a self confessed loser can drag himself from the early morning whisky-shakes by pure will-power, all without seeming to act. Around this core orbit splendid supporting characters, all of which combine to flesh-out a so-so script to the extent that we really start to care. The struggle of one man's redemption resonates to the core of our humanity because we believe in Frank and don't get passed off with an ending which is out of synch with the rest of the film.

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