Runaway Jury
dir. Gary Fleder
20th Century Fox

The film version of the Grishamverse has been a constellation of men in power suits and starched shirts. There have been new lawyers (Tom Cruise, Matt Damon), old lawyers (Wilford Brimley, Hal Holbrook), straight shooters (Matthew McConaughey, Susan Sarandon), conflicted men (Kenneth Branagh, Tommy Lee Jones) and everything else under the sun (Danny DeVito and Julia Roberts come rapidly to mind).

For once, though, it isn't a starched shirt who controls the fate of a Grisham fable. It's Nicholas Easter (John Cusack), übermensch, vagabond and Juror No. 9 in Runaway Jury, and his similarly aliased partner-in-crime on the outside, Marlee (Rachel Weisz). The stage is again a southern courtroom, and Wendell Rohr (Dustin Hoffman) and Rankin Fitch (Gene Hackman) sit on opposite sides of a landmark lawsuit.

Beyond those basics, similarities to Grisham's book basically end. The Insider already sexed up big tobacco litigation, so the film version of Jury shifts its focus to gun control. Guns, cigarettes, a copyright battle over Spongebob Squarepants: The topic isn't what's compelling. It's the struggle over control of the verdict — a verdict for the prosecution would bankrupt the gunmakers almost instantly; one for the defense would keep its litigation-busting streak alive.

We're led to believe that the man responsible for the streak thus far is professional schemer Fitch, whom gun CEOs have imbued with so much power (and a war room that would make NORAD cower) that he renders his own lead attorney powerless. He usually doesn't even need to attend to the proceedings because he considers the game over once the jury has been selected, but when Marlee starts coordinating circus-like jury stunts, both sides realize that there's a different game being played.

Basic analysis of the case labels Rohr as "good" and Fitch as "bad," but when Rohr considers buying the jury at Marlee's price tag, it's clear that no one is immune. If Marlee and Easter can make the virtuous prosecution scramble for $10 million, are they bad people doing good things or good people doing bad things … or something else?

Director Gary Fleder smartly follows Grisham's lead by slowly revealing how Easter got on the jury and what makes him and Marlee tick, despite how furiously the Fitch team works to find out who they are. That pacing is the key to the film because it's the fuel for the cat-and mouse game between Fitch and Marlee — this is the movie's truest delight and the real key to its success. Hackman and Weisz are a perfect oil-and-water mix, highlighted by total impotence of the prosecution's players (Hoffman and a perfunctory Jeremy Piven), who are foolishly pinning their hopes on justice.

Justice is blind, and so is the jury's foreman, Herman Grimes (Gerry Bamman), so there's no limit to what Easter gets away with behind the scenes. It's the flavors of mischief Easter executes, not the switching from tobacco to handguns, that really distinguish the film from the book. In both cases, with each side of the negotiation continually trying to prove its potency and the sky the limit of what they'll do to win, Runaway Jury generates genuine thrills all the way to the climax.

Could it have been a better film? Sure. A little more screen time for Grisham's beloved South would have been a welcome aside, and it's too bad that Rohr isn't presented as a better match for Fitch — Fleder focuses more on a man that intentionally spills mustard on his tie to look more like a man of the people. Also unfortunate is the tendency of all Grisham films to awkwardly stuff the cast with high names in low places (A Time to Kill the worst of the lot), and with Luis Guzman and Bill Nunn in the jury box, Jury is no exception.

The actual jury deliberations are, not surprisingly, given minimal attention. The story is pared down to the joust between a Marlee that says she has the jury and a Fitch that wonders if she might. These behind-the-scenes, big-business maneuverings — the same ones that allegedly disillusioned a younger Easter — apparently usurp the sanctious court proceedings in these cases. This is a change of pace for Grisham, and like King's "The Green Mile" and Crichton's "Airframe," change is a fine thing. Grisham and Fleder thankfully give us the tail wagging the dog, and, my, how those sharp suits and starched shirts can wag.

— Andy Stilp (andy.stilp at gmail dot com)