Runaway Jury: Hoffman and Hackman get down to business

The next time I'm indicted for a major felony, I want Dustin Hoffman to be my lawyer.

The film that has me pondering a life of crime is Runaway Jury, a fairly run-of-the-mill courtroom drama with two distinguishing elements: Dustin Hoffman and Gene Hackman. These two cinematic giants propel Runaway Jury with their incredible conviction, energy, and versatility. Their performances allow the viewer to gloss over the exaggerated plot and courtroom antics to connect directly with the high-stakes emotional experience the film offers. The only scene where the two directly confront each other is charged with such tension and malice that watching it makes the rest of the film worthwhile.

Runaway Jury, adapted from a John Grisham novel, is the violently one-sided tale of a fictional New Orleans trial of the gun industry. A young widow sues gun manufacturers for the wrongful death of her husband in a shooting, claiming that guns are purposefully advertised and sold to criminals. Aware that a loss in this case might mean bankruptcy for the gun industry, defense lawyer Durwood Cable (Bruce Davison) brings in jury expert Rankin Fitch (Hackman) to rig the jury in his favor. Cable, Fitch and their high-tech, city-slicking ways are pitched against people's man Wendall Rohr (Hoffman), the lawyer for the plaintiff. Rohr is the sort of man who purposefully spills mustard on his tweed business suit to appeal to the simple Louisiana man on the jury, while Fitch relies on an espionage set-up rivaling that of the CIA's to gather dirty secrets on jurors and coerce, intimidate, and otherwise influence them to vote his way.

The selection of the jury one of the most absorbing parts of the film, despite the fast-paced, high-octane drama that follows. Fitch profiles each prospective juror and simultaneously instructs both his team of conspirators and the audience on their personality, dreams and likeliness to vote his way, all without ever meeting them or speaking with them. It's a brief psychological study. We learn that self-conscious, overweight people tend to be pitiless, people lace their hands when they are concealing something, and all manner of useless but interesting information. In this scene and others Hackman brings the cold, sleazy Fitch to life with an intensity and cruel, ironic sense of humor. Through Hackman, it's clear that Fitch is not a man of particular morality. He is aware of the danger of guns and the agenda of gun manufacturers, yet is so engrossed with his own prestige and fortune that he overlooks politics.

Fitch has apparently selected the perfect jury, but he makes a mistake with juror number nine, Nick Easter (John Cusack). Easter is working with his girlfriend on the outside, "Marlee" (Rachel Weisz), trying to sell a jury vote to the highest bidder. Easter is at first inaccurately dismissed by Fitch as "an entertainer" who "wants to make everybody happy." Soon, however, he is ingratiating himself into the hearts of his fellow jurors, clearly working towards some mysterious agenda of his own which, contrary to Marlee's assertions to Fitch and Rohr, is clearly not financial gain. Unfortunately, despite his ability to get the jury to spontaneously say the Pledge of Allegiance, Easter never quite convinces the audience that he can affect their verdict, undermining his seemingly powerful position.

The characterizations of Rohr and Fitch are immediately conducive to the incredible bias against the gun industry that Runaway Jury maintains throughout. On the one side we have the cold, faceless corporate entity, country hicks who want the right to shoot furry woodland creatures, and crazed employees who vent their rage with bullets. On the other side we have the friendless widow and the cute, fatherless child. When you add that only Rohr is given the opportunity to present his case the audience, it's not exactly rocket science figuring out which side of the issue Grisham supports. This takes away much of the suspense and anticipation of the outcome of the trial. The jury's verdict is a foregone conclusion, based solely on what we know about Grisham's political views.

But when he speaks, Hoffman makes you forget that the film is not-so-subtly catered to make you root for him. His words are enough. Literally vibrating with passion, Hoffman's voice carries over the courtroom and the theatre as he tells his client's story and that of a gun industry that turns the other cheek as criminals illegally purchase their wares. Hoffman's portrayal as a deeply moral man who believes wholeheartedly in the justice system is so spot-on that you almost want to cry when his conscience is compromised by the reality that he must cooperate with Marlee to ensure that Fitch doesn't buy a pro-gun verdict.

Of course, Rohr would never find himself in such a conundrum if Grisham or screenwriters Brian Koppelman and David Levien had passed their high school law courses. Runaway Jury presents a typically Hollywoodized portrayal of courtroom procedure. In addition to Fitch's unbelievably overdone headquarters, the judge has clearly never read the Constitution, particularly the bit about fair and balanced trials. When he is presented with a videotape of one of Fitch's goons ransacking Easter's apartment, his reaction is two give both attorneys a slap on the wrists and tell them to play nice. Other, more real judges would have screamed "mistrial" before the tape had finished. When Rohr's key witness suddenly disappears, instead of trying to find out what happened in the face of obvious foul play, the judge declares that the plaintiff must rest. And of course, Rohr engages in badgering and leading witnesses to an extent that would have him jailed for contempt of court in any actual trial. Similar behavior of judge and lawyer was presented in the 1992 comedy My Cousin Vinny, but Vinny at least had the sense to laugh at itself. Runaway Jury has the pretension to insist that you take its courtroom scenes seriously.

Still, undercutting these plot devices is an exposure of legal reality that is contradictory to legal precedent. Lawyers will often editorialize, present seemingly irrelevant information and treat their witness objectively to a certain extent to bias the jury in their favor. And as Fitch says, your average juror doesn't care about or even have anything other than a superficial understanding of the law. Trials are decided by ordinary people who can be swayed by the most trivial of details. This tone keeps Runaway Jury in touch with reality, and in addition to the spectacular presence of Hackman and Hoffman, that's enough to make it worth a watch.

Runaway Jury is rated PG-13 for violence, language and thematic elements.