Buy the book A Civil Action at barnesandnoble.com   A L S O_.T O D A Y Blue Glow A "South Park" Christmas; Marv Albert's fall from grace on A&E "Hurlyburly" Reviewed by Jonathan Lethem Director Anthony Drazan successfully brings the sexist, self-destructive camaraderie of David Rabe's play to screen   Y E S T E R D A Y "The Cruise" Reviewed by Christine Schomer A single documentary about one man's life on the edge saved the spirit of independent film (12/22/98)   R E C E N T_. M O V I E S "You've Got Mail" Reviewed by Laura Miller Nora Ephron's update of "The Shop Around the Corner" rails against corporate chain stores to predictably bland effect (12/18/98) "The General" Reviewed by Charles Taylor With a mixture of humor and brutality, John Boorman's extraordinary film paints a dark portrait of Irish outlaw Martin Cahill (12/18/98) "The Prince of Egypt" Reviewed by Charles Taylor A kitschy cartoon epic that's not for kids -- or adults (12/18/98) Safe Haven By Charles Taylor Director John Boorman talks about his new film, "The General," family values and his fascination with nonconformity (12/17/98) Home Movies By Charles Taylor John Boorman's enchanted comedy "Where the Heart Is" sings the praises of hearth and home (12/14/98)   BROWSE THE MOVIE ARCHIVES COLUMNS FEATURES REVIEWS INTERVIEWS

AN UNCIVIL ADAPTATION | PAGE 1, 2 - - - - - - - - - - But the simplifications hurt, too. They reduce the story's sense of mounting excitement as Schlictmann discovers more and more evidence that strengthens his case, and as each new discovery intensifies his reckless emotional commitment. Zaillian is working in a mainstream style meant to convey sober seriousness -- Oscar-style, you might call it -- that has none of the narrative command or felicities of craftsmanship we might expect from good, workmanlike mainstream moviemaking. Details whiz by and it's often unclear in the trial scenes just what's at stake in the examination of each witness. And in his portrayal of Schlictmann, Zaillian isn't synthesizing Harr's details, he's playing to the Zeitgeist. As written by Harr, Schlictmann is the easiest type of hero for modern audiences to believe in -- a guy driven to do good by impure motives who winds up nearly undoing everything he accomplishes. He's the type of guy who drives a Porsche and wears custom-made suits, who rents out hotel dining rooms to conduct settlement negotiations, but who also spends so much of his firm's resources preparing the case (while refusing to take any other) that he and the firm go into bankruptcy. He and his partners put their mortgages up for collateral. And all the while, Schlictmann, so outraged by the stonewalling of his opponents and the trial judge's obvious prejudice against him, ignores chances to settle the case and winds up with far less than he could have had for his clients, his firm and himself. In Schlictmann's own mind, he's a crusader against injustice. He resents the way the lawyers from Boston's high-toned Brahmin law firms look down on him, and he has visions of a crippling judgment against Grace and Beatrice, a judgment that will make their guilt unquestionable and humiliate the lawyers defending them. Letting them pay their way out of trouble is anathema to him -- unless the payments hurt. Schlictmann is a guy who, for a tangle of reasons, some of them noble, makes almost all the wrong decisions. In Zaillian's view, Schlictmann's mistakes are the price he must pay in order to be redeemed. (Yes, folks, it's a redemption movie.) He sets the tone in the opening scene as Schlictmann wheels a paralyzed client into a courtroom and, in full view of the jury and the defense lawyers, solicitously attends to the man, all the while signaling "no deal" to the escalating settlement offers the defense lawyers are nervously scribbling on a sticky pad. They come up with an acceptable figure before opening statements. Zaillian presents this as predatory cynicism, and he does the same thing when Schlictmann agrees to take the Woburn case only after discovering he can go after the deep pockets of Beatrice and Grace. He has turned this maddeningly complicated man into a glorified ambulance chaser. But Zaillian never admits that, unless there's a reasonable hope of getting some money, there's no point in bringing a lawsuit. And though Schlictmann blunders badly by refusing settlement offers, Zaillian doesn't credit the basic notion Schlictmann is working from: that bullies understand only force -- and corporate bullies understand only money. Zaillian plays right into the public's childishness about lawyers (a childishness that the popularity of shows like "Law and Order" and "The Practice," with their stories of the tradeoffs and tough calls of practicing law, may have done much to erode). It's not Travolta's fault that he barely registers in the role. There's nothing for him to do but look alternately preoccupied and guilt-stricken. Robert Duvall fares much better as Facher, the eccentric, tight-fisted lawyer for Beatrice. In some ways, he's all wrong for the role, too robust-looking to have the whittled, wizened Brahmin hawkishness of the character. But he does more to suggest the dry, arrogant superiority of the institutions Schlictmann is up against than all of cinematographer Conrad Hall's dark-toned shots of courtrooms and law firms: The camera always seems to be taking a view of the proceedings that's either Olympian (hovering in the air) or reverential (low-angle shots that make you wonder if the camera operator was on bended knee). And if movies were baseball, then William H. Macy would be this season's MVP. Macy, who plays the firm's accountant and has to juggle to keep it afloat during the trial, has been a pleasure to watch in everything he's been in recently (including "Pleasantville" and "Psycho," in which he's even better than he is here). He's become one of those character actors who never appears to be acting. He just turns up completely in character, as if he'd been this person his whole life. In reducing Harr's story to the hubris of one lawyer, Zaillian makes some odd narrative omissions. Harr makes a very strong case that Facher withheld exculpatory evidence from Schlictmann, and that Judge Walter J. Skinner deliberately chose to ignore Facher's misconduct, even to the point of falsely characterizing that withheld evidence as favorable to the defense. We get next to none of that in the film. How in the name of God do you make a movie about a lawsuit in which the corporate defendants are demonstrably guilty and then decide to leave out the details of the corrupt and dishonest actions that aided them? You do it, I think, by glomming on to material, not because you care about it as an individual story, but because you see a chance to preach a moral object lesson. Harr's book works in exactly the opposite way. By staying true to his story, by keeping it about people making difficult choices, he's able to illuminate much larger territory. Zaillian can't be bothered with the legwork; he wants to get right to the closing statements. SALON | Dec. 23, 1998