An Act of Murder

Here Fredric March plays criminal court judge Calvin Cooke who has a reputation as a sort of "hanging judge" so that he has earned the nickname of "old man Maximum". Edmond O'Brien plays a defense attorney arguing a case before the judge. While O'Brien's character looks at the spirit of the law, Judge Cooke looks only at the letter of it and it is obvious from the opening court scene that the two do not like each other. What do they have in common? They both love the judge's only daughter, Ellie.

Now this doesn't mean that the judge is a bad guy. He likes his community, adores his wife of twenty years (Florence Eldridge as Catherine Cooke), and loves his daughter.

But more trouble is afoot than just a suitor for his daughter's hand that the judge dislikes. His wife Catherine has been having headaches, dizziness, and has been dropping things due to numbness in her hands. She confides in a friend who also happens to be a doctor that she has "a friend" with these symptoms, and the doctor sees through her ruse and says that she should come to his Philadelphia office the next day for a check-up. She does that, but lies to Calvin and says she is going shopping.

This is where I do some head scratching. The news is bad - Catherine has a type of inoperable brain tumor that means a certain and painful death. The doctor tells Catherine that everything is fine. Who does he call? After sticking a cancer stick in his mouth to relieve the stress (????) the good doctor calls Calvin, her husband and tells HIM the truth. They both decide to not tell Catherine, the ACTUAL patient, the truth. Later when Catherine finds out, she decides not to talk about it either, even though by the way she found out she must know that her husband knows. Why isn't anybody talking to anybody about this woman's illness? Everybody just goes on pretending. Maybe this is the way it was 60 years ago, and that is one reason I love classic film - it gives you real insight into a bygone era about how people handled life, in this case illness, the fact that doctors routinely smoked, that grown daughters lived at home and pretty much went from the custody of their fathers to their husbands, and that it was acceptable for a policeman to shoot a dog that had been run over by a car in plain view of the general public - a mercy killing. This last incident happens as the judge is walking down the street to get pain medicine for his wife that just isn't doing the job. The implication is that mercy killing is on the mind of "old man Maximum" too. How will all of this work out? Watch and find out.

Even though all of the characters in this film are basically "good people" with good intentions, you could almost classify this one as a noir, because there are no easy answers, no possible way to a happy ending. I've seen a restored version of this film on Turner Classic Movies in the last year, so I wish Universal would find some way to get it out to the public. The questions the film raises are still relevant today. Highly recommended.

Fascinating Film that Daringly Approaches the Subject of Euthanasia. In Doing so it also has Liberal Elements Inserted about the Rigid Judicial System that has a Tendency Toward Antiquated ("Powdered Wigs") by the Book Procedures.

Edmond O'Brien is the Lawyer that Questions a Hard-Boiled Judge, while Dating His Daughter. The Judge Played by Fredric March goes through a Tumultuous Time Dealing with His Wife's Terminal Illness. But the Acting Accolades must go to Florence Eldridge who Gives a Riveting Performance.

This Thoughtful Piece of Social Commentary is Rich and Rewarding with Taut and Suspenseful Scenes that can at Times be Heartbreaking. This is an Odd Movie to be Sure, and is Well Worth a Watch for its Genuine Concern about Troubling Things that are Rarely Discussed (especially in 1948), but Linger on the Fringe of Everyday Life.

This film's relentless plotline marches straight-ahead forward as you squirm, fascinated, in your chair. The story is the familiar one about the onset of terminal illness within a solid American family of the 1940s. Never mind that it delves into MGM-style sermonizing; the great real-life husband/wife team of Fredric March and Florence Eldridge portray the couple whose once-comfortable lives are now being separated by an unstoppable and fast-advancing disease. The helpless husband, the uncomplaining wife, and their final attempt to recapture happier days with a doomed weekend outing is the stuff of deep film drama indeed. The sense of onrushing darkness is tangible through the film-noir camera shadings of Hal Mohr (Captain Blood, Phantom of the Opera [1943], The Climax), and Daniele Amfitheatrof's rich musical score. "An Act of Murder" makes a profound statement on the value, and the fragility, of life.

There's something quite remarkable at the heart of this honest and direct portrayal of a very human crisis. The leads here - Frederic March and Florence Eldridge, real-life husband and wife - are completely and thoroughly a middle-aged couple and depicted as such, in all their wrinkles and folds and reflections on lives that have been lived. It's a reminder that the two kinds of people we see in movies are the very young and beautiful and the very old. The Cookes here are seemingly fully filled in, a husband and wife with grown children, in the midst of real lives, inhabiting their marriage with the deep love that is far beyond the romantic love that's the staple of motion pictures. This isn't the dashing Frederic March of the 1930s but a mature, restrained father and husband. It's a bit melodramatic at times - director Michael Gordon is a journeyman professional and not William Wyler, director of the great film of that era starring March, The Best Years of Our LIves. But watch for the details, such as the sharp, discordant strings stabbing along as windshield wipers swipe across the screen. I think I saw that in another movie made a few years later.

Preachy moralizing on a downbeat subject, "An Act of Murder" is somewhat redeemed by outstanding performances by Frederic March and his actress wife, Florence Eldridge. A strict judge is faced with a moral dilemma, when his wife of 20 years is struck with a fatal disease that is incurable and increasingly painful. Most of the film's running time deals with the judge's home and work life, his daughter's relationship with an attorney the judge dislikes, and visits to a doctor, who is a personal friend of the couple.

Movies about terminal illness are often cloying TV fodder and difficult to endure; few are entertaining and tolerable like "Dark Victory," in which Bette Davis overcame a dire prognosis by sheer force of her personality. Directed by Michael Gordon and adapted from a novel by Ernst Lothar, this low-budget film does avoid maudlin moments and is no tearjerker. Eldridge as Catherine Cooke faces her crisis with courage and dignity, even while her symptoms worsen and her health declines. March's Judge Calvin Cooke stoically witnesses his wife's pain and addresses the imminent loss of his partner without self pity. However, the story reaches tedious sermonizing during a climactic courtroom scene. Edmund O'Brien, who plays the daughter's improbable love interest, steps into the court proceedings to make a point, after which a judge, portrayed by John McIntire, delivers a lesson about heart in the law, and March closes the film by declaring himself a changed man.

To say that "An Act of Murder" is entertaining is a bit of a stretch given the subject matter. To say that the film's moral teaching is groundbreaking would be untrue for most people. However, the sensitive portrayal of a loving couple facing loss after twenty years of marriage acted out by a loving couple after twenty years of their own marriage is reason enough to endure the sermonizing.