All rise. Oh yea, oh yea, the court of entertainment opinion writing is now in session. The dishonorable Gabe Smith presiding. This week’s case: The movie-going public versus director Gary Fleder’s new film “Runaway Jury.” You may be seated.
Smith: Let’s dispense with the opening arguments, shall we, and get straight down to brass tacks. “Runaway Jury,” state your case for the court.
RJ: Thank you, your honor. If it please the court … ahem, uh … hello there. My name is “Runaway Jury.” I’m the latest screen adaptation of a John Grisham novel and I’ve just been released to your local megaplex.
I would like to state for the record that my source material is pretty good legal fiction, another adequate potboiler from the modern-day master of law-and-order throwaway paperbacks. This time he’s set his sights-no pun intended, of course-on the gun lobby in a case involving black market firearms used in an office shooting. The prosecution blames the gun manufacturer, while the gun manufacturer pleads the second amendment. The manufacturer, however, has more tricks up its sleeve and hires an expert legal consultant to wrangle, swing, threaten and buy a jury that will ensure a victory for the firearms company. Things get stickier, though, when one of the jurors seems to have an agenda of his own and tries to manipulate the jury toward his own unknown ends. It’s all good cat-and-mouse, bait-and-switch stuff, your honor, and the snappy New Orleans locations just make it that much more involving.
And have you taken a look at my cast list? Come on, people, with so many big name stars, how could I be bad?
Public: Objection, your honor! Misleading the audience.
Smith: Objection sustained. I would like to remind you, “Runaway Jury,” to keep your hyperbole in check. Remember that you are under oath.
“RJ”: Of course, sir. I wish merely to expound upon several performances in the … in me, your honor.
First off, you got John Cusack as your lead, the tricky juror, and he’s good at suggesting crafty intelligence in a smiling, unassuming package.
And, Rachel Weisz, fetching as ever, is his equally enigmatic lover and partner in extortion. Oh, and Dustin Hoffman, he’s pretty good, too. He brings heft and dignity to a supporting turn as the prosecutor with no agenda besides doing what’s right and legally sound.
Come on, folks, haven’t you heard enough? I’m a splashy PG-13 thriller just aching for mass consumption, a perfect example of today’s big-budget Hollywood entertainments. I, uh … I rest my case.
Smith: Movie-going public, now it’s your turn. Say your piece.
Public: Well, “Runaway Jury,” I cannot deny that you’ve assembled quite a fleet of talented actors for your little legal drama but it all feels like pro bono work in the name of a bad cause. Because I am here to state for the record that you are, in fact, not the good movie you portend to be. I say instead that you are overlong, full of hot air, badly edited and a waste of a nicely jazzy score from Christopher Young!
“RJ”: Objection. Badgering and … uh, irrelevant!
Smith: Sustained. Let’s get back on course to things that matter, please. Too much nitpicking tires us all out.
Public: Right. Back to acting then. You failed in your praise of the principal performers to mention Gene Hackman, that famed two-time Oscar winner? What could have been your reasoning for such an omission? Could it be because he fails to deliver anything here but a punch-in-the-face portrait of evil just one tic shy of moustache-twirling and tying the heroine to the railroad tracks?
For the answer to this question, look no further than one supportive turn indicative of all the performances and of the movie’s tone in general.
Look to the near-ubiquitous Bruce McGill, who offers up some of the least-subtle work of his long career as the Southern-fried ham-of-a-judge selected to oversee the gun trial. It is this lack of subtlety that permeates so much of the film, your honor.
The direction stresses the sensational instead of anything resembling human truth, and the result is little more than a live-action cartoon. There are good guys, bad guys, chases and easy answers all around.
“Runaway Jury” stands as further proof that Grisham’s page-turners simply cannot translate to the screen with complete success. The celluloid results lack character depth and often come off as cookie-cutter legal procedurals, and this time is no exception. Making matters worse is the fact that the volatile and multi-sided firearms issue is handled so clumsily and with such a heavy bias. Add in jarring editing, a two-hour-plus running time and a twist ending as unsurprising as … uh … as, uh…
“RJ”: Objection, your honor.
Smith: What grounds?
“RJ”: Uh, lack of obvious or, uh … tangible metaphor?
Smith: I’ll allow it. Just make it quick, Public.
Public: Sorry, your honor. I simply wish to state once again and for all concerned, as concisely as I can, that “Runaway Jury” is not a horrible film. It is simply not good. The public rests, your honor.
Smith: If there is nothing left to submit into evidence … we are forgoing the usual jury in lieu of a bench trial. I could retire to chambers to deliberate, but I don’t think I need to waste any more of the public’s time before delivering a verdict. I find the defendant “Runaway Jury”…
“RJ”: Your honor, I demand a mistrial!
Smith: Speak out like that again and consider yourself fined for contempt. “Runaway Jury” … I find you guilty of one count of disappointment by mediocrity and a subsequent count of nausea and head trauma through heavy-handed filmmaking.
I sentence you to weak box office results, apathetic to negative word of mouth, and a quick and quiet retirement to the dusty shelves of Blockbuster stores around the world.
All requests for appeal will be denied. Case closed.