This is a courtroom drama set around an actual murder case, supposedly unembellished for the screen, in which a Mississippi racist is tried for a murder allegedly committed some 30 years ago. Myrlie Evers is the widow of a slain black civil rights leader, whose murder is recalled at the beginning of the movie, leaving no doubt about the identity of the perpetrator. It is a methodical, diabolical crime, politically motivated by a leader of the KKK with an almost sociopathic disregard for the value of a good man’s life. Unfortunately for the murderer he disobeys the first rule of assassination – never leave behind a family that may wreak revenge! Myrlie Evers pursues her quarry with a relentlessness that ensures the killer will pay for his crime, as long as she can enlist the help of a lawyer with a heart as well as a brain. Enter Assistant District Attorney (ADA) Bobby DeLaughter (no laughing, that’s his name). His is the classic journey of the cinematic hero who risks all to reclaim his virtue. And oh, the obstacles: DeLaughter’s boss the District Attorney doesn’t want to reopen a can of beans, the ADA’s wife is prepared to leave the marriage over his decision to take the case, and the defendant is the type of man who would have your family killed and then tuck into a hearty breakfast. And if that’s not enough there are legal hurdles galore: the murder weapon is lost, there is no certified transcript of the original hearing that was declared a mistrial, witnesses are dead or missing, and in the beginning there is little trust between the ADA and the victim’s widow. DeLaughter’s journey is more a marathon, particularly when we learn that his now retired father-in-law was once "the most racist judge in Mississippi". It soon becomes clear that the lawyer is just as desperate for redemption as he is for justice. It is important to the telling that the story, essentially a meandering history of the American civil rights movement, is recounted through a white man’s eyes (this seems to be the norm in Hollywood, ghosts of Alan Parker’s "Mississippi Burning"). Medgar Evers is not a cinematic creation; he’s the real thing. He was appointed the first field secretary of the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People (NAACP) in 1954, after he was refused admission to the University of Mississippi Law School because of his race. The NAACP is the oldest and strongest civil rights organisation in the United States, and it was established to advance the educational, social, political and economic rights of minority citizens. It was formed in 1909, and the widow of Medgar Evers (played by Goldberg in this movie) is now the Chairman of the Board. There is an exceptional cast on show here. And it's produced and directed by Rob Reiner, whose cinematic pedigree is about as good as it gets nowadays. We may not wish we were in Dixie, but it sure feels like we’re there. It's mint juleps and slowly revolving fans, drowsy afternoons on park benches, and men in sweat stained white shirts and braces sermonising on the morality of a decent (segregated) society while black waiters carry their drinks to the poolside at the Club. The courtroom scenes. For those of you who have become our Law in the Lounge friends, you’ll know we have a soft spot for the dramatic antics of our cinematic colleagues. In "A Few Good Men" Reiner has already proved himself a master of this forum, an authentic theatre where the glancing blow of a left-hook interrogation can shift the ground beneath our feet. As Australians, we knew little of Evers’ life and majestic achievement. Clearly his was a great and tragic life. At the beginning we see the crime juxtaposed with the soundtrack of John F. Kennedy’s most famous speech on civil rights. Say what you like about Kennedy’s sex life and allegations of Mafia involvement, but the man could speak with a fluency and urgency rarely seen in this country. Here at Law in the Lounge we didn’t really buy the premise that this young, successful ADA would abandon his lifestyle and marriage to resurrect a long forgotten murder mistrial. It’s true, the widow Evers has a dignified presence that would entice that meagre group of lawyers with a social conscience. But DeLaughter sacrifices a lot, even if we know it will probably be all right in the end. This is a recurring theme in movies – no, we’re not complaining about the happy endings, but the script suggests (as most do) that a person will inevitably be rewarded for their sacrifice, particularly when they act boldly and against the odds. In the real world this is rarely the case, and unfortunately sacrifice often entails exactly what the word implies, loss and deprivation. Woods’s part is not big enough, even though he uses it to its best advantage. We feel terribly cheated when the long anticipated courtroom confrontation between the lawyer and the defendant fails to occur. This movie focuses on the Sixth Amendment of the American Bill of Rights:
In the movie (as in real life) the defendant Beckwith is tried for a murder 30 years after it allegedly took place. Early on, lawyer DeLaughter states that the Sixth Amendment will prevent the trial of the alleged crime. As is the case in this movie, the passage of time can mean the death of key witnesses or the blurring of the memories of those who have survived. So when can the right to a speedy trial be overcome (as we are not told in the movie)? According to the Supreme Court: "'We can do little more than identify some of the factors which courts should assess in determining whether a particular defendant has been deprived of his right. Though some might express them in different ways, we identify four such factors: length of delay, the reason for the delay, the defendant's assertion of his right, and prejudice to the defendant" (Barker v. Wingo). In Australia there are statutes that set out how long you have to get your legal act together. For instance, if you want to claim compensation for an injury because of the negligence of another person, you have to apply to the courts within a certain number of years from the date the injury occurred (the actual number of years varies between States). In criminal cases, it depends on the type of allegation that is made. There is a limitation period in most States for more minor offences, but for serious crimes like murder, the prosecution can take place at any time. Of course, the longer the period since the alleged crime took place, the harder it will be to prove – time makes the prosecution’s case grow weaker! Rob Reiner is the director of this film. His father is Carl Reiner, who was a famous comic, the brains behind the early TV "Dick Van Dyke Show" and the director of four Steve Martin films. Rob Reiner originally made his name not as a director, but as Archie Bunker’s son-in-law "Meathead" in the classic television series "All In The Family", a number one show in the U.S. for years (he received two Emmys for this work). He directed his first film in 1984, the merry "This Is Spinal Tap", the all-time favourite spoof on the rock industry. Check out this list of directing credits: the inventive "The Princess Bride"; the Meg Ryan/Billy Crystal hit vehicle "When Harry Met Sally"; Stephen King’s "Misery"; the wonderful "Stand By Me" (worth seeing on video). His production company, Castle Rock, which made "Ghosts of Mississippi", is the force behind numerous films and "Seinfeld" on television. You can see him acting in "Postcards From The Edge" (he’s Joe Pierce); "Regarding Henry" with Harrison Ford; and as Jay in the megahit "Sleepless in Seattle". Reiner said he wanted to stick to the facts in this movie, without too much cinematic licence. Perhaps this was a problem for him, for instance, where the viewer is robbed of the long awaited confrontation between Beckwith and DeLaughter. Screenwriter Lewis Colick travelled to Jackson Mississippi to get a first hand look at the scene of the terrible events that precipitated this movie. This investigative detail shows in the finished script, which is heavy on facts and the Southern drawl. Alec Baldwin, born in 1958, studied drama at New York University and with the famous Lee Strasberg (teacher of Marlon Brando and other imitators) and first came to attention in the "Dynasty" wannabe "Knots Landing". He had a small but telling part in the wonderful 1988 "Married To The Mob", and came to the fore in the action-packed "The Hunt For Red October" where he mixed it with Sean Connery. He is the eldest of the acting Baldwins (William, Daniel, and Stephen) and is married to Kim Bassinger. James Woods was born in 1947 and did his training in the theatre before appearing in the illustrious Elia Kazan’s "The Visitors" in 1972. He is famous for his portrayal of evil characters, for instance the gangster Max in Sergio Leone’s "Once Upon a Time in America" and the police murderer Powell in "The Onion Field". He was memorable in Oliver Stone’s "Salvador" as the crazed war photojournalist Richard Boyle. In his later career he has become better known for his television movie work. He was nominated for an Oscar for this part. Whoopi Goldberg was born in 1949, and has made her name as both a comedienne and a dramatic actor. She made one of the famous entries to filmdom in Stephen Spielberg’s controversial "The Colour Purple" (1985), in which she beautifully played the tragic central figure Celie. Unfortunately for Goldberg, she then acted in a number of forgettable outings, until she scored big time in her Oscar winning performance in the otherwise sentimental "Ghost". She has acted in a dizzying array of roles, from bit parts in movies like Altman’s "Player" to the lead in the musical "Sarafina". She is probably best known for her turn as Deloris, a cabaret singer turned "nun on the run" in "Sister Act" and its sequel, the haplessly titled "Sister Act 2 – Back in the Habit". The performances James Woods carries off the role of the putrid De La Beckwith with consummate ease. He’s always in the background, twitching in his seat at the bar table or haunting the psyches of the major players. Woods is careful not to play him as a cartoon bigot. No, this man can charm the gaggle of journalists who hang on his every word, the politicians and adherents who see him as a Christ-like saviour, or the loonies who actually believe he is making sense. There’s a terrific moment when De La Beckwith says, "I didn’t kill him, but he sure is dead".
Alec Baldwin tries hard to make the most of a role that probably doesn’t suit him. Baldwin seems more at home on the back of a bolting horse or in the arms of a beautiful blonde. Still, Baldwin doesn’t fall for the usual trap – he refuses to invest the part with mannered lawyerly gymnastics or emotional histrionics ("I put it to you that…") It’s a thoughtful, dignified performance that deliberately takes a back seat to the enormous historical imperatives that lie at the heart of the script. Baldwin clearly means us to take him seriously, and there is nothing in the performance to suggest otherwise. This is not the Whoopi Goldberg of that other "ghost" movie, nor is she about to break into a Supremes hit whilst she flicks cigarette ash from her nun’s habit. In this role she is dignity personified, so much so that she seems to have modelled her performance on Coretta King (widow of Martin Luther King). She almost pulls it off, and to the extent that she fails, the fault mainly lies with a script that doesn’t give her much to do. A bit more passion, a little less stoicism, would have worked a treat. Still, it is a fine performance, particularly because she plays the same character 30 years apart. The ingredients were all there for a great movie. Top cast, controversial true story, accomplished director and a writer who knows his way around a thriller. But it pales in comparison with the powerful "Mississippi Burning", which covers similar territory in a far more compelling manner. Yes, we want to see Beckwith convicted of a crime we know he committed, and we yearn for the healing balm of justice. But this is where the movie lets us down. It takes our emotions along for a ride that never gets to its natural destination, no real "closure" (as our American friends like to say). Partly this is because we never really engage with the victim, beyond a couple of video speeches and the recounted homilies he imparted to his wife (perhaps he is the "ghost" of Mississippi). We’re never sure which of the characters is the hero of this disjointed story, though the villain is consistently a corrupt legal system that gives succour to a cast of evil racists. But these problems are all to do with plot development, and it is hard to fault the altruism that invests the movie with a sense of generosity. And to that extent it is entirely well-intentioned and worth seeing. The sour taste, however, comes from the suggestion (never challenged) that in the end, the poor disenfranchised blacks need the help of munificent white lawyers to champion their cause. Nevertheless, this movie is miles ahead of the similarly themed "A Time To Kill", but oh how we miss the likes of "To Kill A Mockingbird". "Ghosts of Mississippi would have been a terrific tele-movie, and as a video with a bit of meat on its bones, it’s worth the price of the hire.
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