







One of Paul Newman's better eighties roles. Typical liberal and sincere Lumet expose of US medicine versus the little guy. Coming your way soon...
This is a mature courtroom drama that doesn’t beg for your attention—it earns it. Lumet turns the room into a squeeze: bodies arranged like barricades, a question left hanging a beat too long, and you feel the power shift without anyone spelling it out. It’s Lumet revisiting the pressure-cooker trick of 12 Angry Men: there the jury-room walls close in; here, the courtroom does, and the verdict starts to feel like a physical object.
Deborah Ann Kaye is left comatose after an anaesthesia error during childbirth. Frank Galvin (Paul Newman) is a lawyer in freefall, reduced to handing out business cards at funerals, until Mickey (Jack Warden) pushes him a malpractice case that “should” settle. Her family wants money for care and a bit of peace. Galvin wants justice—plus delay, risk, and a trial that turns stability into a moving target.
James Mason’s Concannon makes that choice feel expensive. Newman is superb—frayed, stubborn, intermittently decent. Rampling has less to play, but she and Newman are all eyes. It’s about justice as self-respect: costly, exhausting, and worth fighting for anyway.
If you were subjected to countless John Grisham films in the 90's you might not need to see this.
Highly rated, certainly at the time, but I can't see anything particularly unique about it now.