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January 14, 1983 - Image 12

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The Michigan Daily, 1983-01-14
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Justice
for all

e

iter

day
Diary of a Madman
Michigan Ensemble Theatre
Trueblood Theatre
8 p.m. January 21-23, February 2-5
2 p.m. February 6

The Verdict
Starring: Paul Newman,
Rampling, and James Mason
Written by David Mamet
Directed by Sidney Lumet
State Theater

Charlotte

By Malcolm Robinson
SIDNEY Lumet's The Verdict, as
stirring and darkly compelling a
motion picture as any in 1982, is in some
sense, a court room drama, as its title
might suggest. Oddly enough then, at
least for some, the film reminds me less
of such stalwarts of the genre as
television's Perry Mason or Billy
Wilder's Witness For the Prosecution
than of Sidney Lumet's own 1974 film,
Serpico.
Serpico, for example, told the highly
stylized, true story of a New Yorker
named Frank Serpico, an idealistic
young policeman surrounded
everywhere by bad cops on the take.
Remaining clean, inevitably
threatened for his life, Serpico
(memorably played by Al Paciono)
finally blew the whistle and testified
before the New York City Knapp Com-
mission on police corruption. the final
image of that film was of a hirsute Ser-
pico, sitting with his cane and his dog,
alone, as an epilogue read down the
screen that he'd soon left the United
States and retreated into a self imposed
exile in Switzerland.
It would have been nice to have been
able to comment on The Verdict's own
final, gripping image but, for reasons of
plot, I shall refrain. Let is be enough
that many have found the hair filled
face of Frank'Serpico's to be somehow
reminiscent of Christ's and that it is
therefore quiteapt that as demanding a
film as Lumet's latest ought to have
been released at Christmas time.
The Verdict, in many ways, is the
superior of the two films. Perhaps a
movie can only stylize reality so far
when dealing with true events before
the line of utter implausibility is
crossed. Lumet corrected for Serpico's
black and white morality in 1981 with
Prince of the City,a brilliant study in
moral complexity, another true story of
a New York police squad and its
superiors. His return back to a Serpico-
like world at first might seem like a
step backwards of one sort or another.
Instead, what the director has done,
with the collaboration of screenwriter
David Mamet (American Buffalo) and
cinematographer Andrzej Bartkowiak
(Prince of the City), is to create a
totally fictive world, pare it down to its
essentials of light and dark, and then
lplace within it a pilgrim whose role it is
to progress.
It is the story of a now down-and-out
lawyer (Galvin) in Boston who at one
time had been an up and coming young
star. He'd even married into the family
of one of his firm's senior partners. But
four years before The Verdict begins,
he had almost been disbarred for jury
tampering done by a senior member of
the firm. He has since lost his faith in
the notion of doing what is right
because it is right, in the idea of the

The Verdict: Plea bargaining

law, in lawyers and, hence, in himself.
He now spends his time playing pinball
and finds succor in drink.
In the last four years, after his wife
had left him and he'd been told to leave
the firm, Galvin had had just three
cases ad he'd lost them all; and one af-
ternoon, after again proferring his card
to the bereaved at a funeral, passing
himself off as a close friend of the
recently deceased, he returns to his of-
fice, drunk, ready to demolish it. Half-
way through the act, he realizes that
what he wants to do is to smash the cer-
tificate on the wall that so fraudulantly
connects him with his calling.
It is form these depths that he rises -
both literally and figuratively. For
there are at least two dynamics at work
in The Verdict: one is an almost con-
stant upward motion (Galvin travels up
and down stairways and also often
rushes up hills); the other is a just as
constant desire to come in from the
cold, to move away from the periphery
toward the center (Galvin's desire to
return to his profession, to form
relationships of some kind, to return to
society). It is the essential beauty of
this if not most of Lumet's work that
each dynamic is a part of if not the
same thing as the other.
What triggers off these dynamics and
is, for the most part, the plot of the film
is the case coming to trial that the title
alludes to. It's a good case, Mickey
Morrissey, Galvin's former mentor and
ex-partner, reminds him, a sure money

winner. So he figures it's routine and
that with little or no work he can simply
pocket his 30% of the out of court set-
tlement. It simply had to be routine,
according to Galvin; no hospital would
want the publicity that such a malprac-
tice suit would bring. A healthy young
woman, it seems, had entered a
hospital to have a child and never left it.
She'd been given the wrong anaesthetic
later vomiting into her mask; oxygen
had been denied to her brain; and she
entered into a coma from which she'd
never escape.
Emblematic of The Verdict,
however, is that along with the tem-
ptation for a settlement there is always
the little listened to voice in this film
that opines against it. that Galvin
listens to that voice and, against all od-
ds, brings the case to court is more than
a plot turn. His is an act of faith that
sets the stage for as moving a court
room battle as any put to cellulid.-
As with almost any Lumet film you can
name Murder on the Orient Express,
Dog Day Afternoon, Long Day's Jour-
ney into Night, Network) the acting of
the entire ensemble is so good that the
entire project never degenerates into a
vehicle for its star.
In this instance, the star is Paul
Newman who gives a superb perfor-
mance as Frank Galvin. The story is
told that Alfred Hitchcock disliked
working with Newman on Torn Curtain
because of his Method training. That
same Method training leads one to ask
what private hell this actor dredged

himself through to bring this role off.
Gone is the aw, shucks and the easy
swagger. Gone, too, is the assurance
that everything will work out for him in
the end since he's able to solve all of
life's problems. What appears on the
screen is a lawyer who's staked his life
to a court case and an actor inspired to
give his most ambitious performance
since the mid '70s.
The rest of the cast is equally fine.
James Mason is letter perfect as Ed
Concannon, the patrician lawyer for the
Church-run hospital. He is described
most accurately by Mickey Morrissey
to Galvin as "the Prince of fucking
Darkness" and it is a tribute to Mason
that he pulls this off without a mis-step.
Charlotte Rampling, as the woman
Galvin falls in love with and confides in,
has never been better. Jack Warden,
on the other hand, as Mickey Morrissey
is as on target as alwaysl
It is Lindsay Crouse as Kaitlin
Costello Price, Galvin's star witness,
that deserves special mention. Ex-
tremely small roles, it seems, have
always been handled well in Lumit
films - for example, but Ned Beatty
and Beatrice Straight in Network won
Oscars for basically a single scene
apiece - but none ever quite so lum-
nously as here. As the former nurse
driven from her profession, her hospital
and her home, Crouse captures in her
few moments on the stand not only the
personal redemption that is the film's
triumph but the constant, lingering
pain that must certainly accompany it. F

By Chris Lauer
D IARY OF A MADMAN, adopted
from Nikolai Gogol's classic short
story of the same name, is the latest
opportunity to see good professional
theater in Ann Arbor. Though risky in
the sense that the play is unusual, it is
backed by talent of excellent
reputation. This first offering of the
winter repertory is the American
premiere of the play, and looks like
another fine production by the
Michigan Ensemble Theatre.
The play previews January 19, opens
January 21, and will run through
January 23 and February 2-5 at 8 p.m.
There will be an afternoon performance
on February 6 at 2 p.m.
Diary of a Madman is unusual in
form all the way back to Nikolai Gogol,
a Russian of moderate wealth who
wrote a short story by that name in the
early 1800s. As written, it is literally a
diary of a madman, Poprischin, a
peasant whose diary becomes
progressively more detached from
reality. The entries are written in a
style that is both funny and serious, but
ultimately haunting.
At first Poprishchin seems only lazy
of mind, manifested in loose talk and
inconsistent attendance at his job shar-
pening writing skills for a high official.
With each sentence, he reveals in-
creasing impulsiveness and less ability
to deal with everyday life. He begins to
make entries for months that do not
exist; at about the same time he reports
eavesdropping on conversation bet-
ween dogs. Attempts at self-evaluation
fail because of his distorted judgment.
The always increasing distortion allows
Poprishchin to build self-importance
around himself-climaxing in his
"discovery" that he is King of Spain.
Fueling his mania is his obsession with
the daughter of his upper class em-
ployer.
Though it centers on one man,
Gogol's story is not intended to be about
just one man. By implying that
Poprishchin is not responsible for his
bizarre actions, Gogol points an ac-
cusing finger at society. As Poprish-
chin's narrative progresses, it becomes
less about himself, and more about the
ruthless environment of the society that
cannot toleratehis weakness.
The short story was adapted for stage
by Walter Eysselinck, artistic director
for the production, not an easy task
considering the diary form of the short
story. Eysselinck's adaptation is a one
man play, interesting because so much
depends on the effectiveness of the one
actor..
The intensity of Gogol's story is
rooted in the directness of contact that
the reader has with Poprishchin's
thoughts. Eysselinck lets the audience

Erik Fredericksen: Going insane
have the same contact by using the sole
actor's portrayal as a direct link for the
audience to the madman's thoughts.
The unusual difficulty of playing the
only character requires unusual exper-
tise, which is exactly what the
Michigan Ensemble Theater has in
Erik Fredericksen, an actor and fight
director of national reputation. From
the New Trueblood's circular stage,
Fredericksen will be playing his
character to an audience in all direc-
tions. One of the madman's symptoms

is a fear that people around him are
watching and criticizing him, a perfect
fit for an arena production and con-
sistent with the spirit of Gogol's story.
Gogol does not hold anything back, and
neither can Fredericksen with the
audience seeing inside his character's
head literally from all angles.
At the very least, the stage version of
Diary of a Madman is a daring attempt,
and if performed as well as it is con-
ceived, then the play should be nothing
less than a great. dramatic experience. w

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