A Fúria dos Justos

Trial is one of the best films of the Fifties and a personal favorite of mine in the credits of a favorite actor of mine, Glenn Ford. Made at the end of what is loosely described as the 'McCarthy Era', Trial bravely tackles the evils of right and leftwing extremism and shows that people of good will can make a difference in defeating them. It's a subject I'm surprised Frank Capra didn't consider as a project.

Communist attorney Arthur Kennedy has latched on to a case involving the death of a teenage caucasian girl in which a young Mexican boy stands accused of her murder. In fact we see the events as they transpire at the beginning of the film. The boy, very winningly played by Rafael Campos has some very dubious culpability in the matter.

But in this California town, prejudice against Mexican-Americans runs pretty high. Rafael is arrested and the Communist party looks to jump in. For window dressing they latch on to law professor Glenn Ford who agrees to go to court with the young man, partly to prove the falsity of that old adage about those who can't, teach.

Ford does pretty good for a while, but Kennedy who's more interested in a martyr and the stirring up of race prejudice, gets the mother played by Katy Jurado to have Rafael take the stand. District Attorney John Hodiak in a devastating cross examination blows the defense wide open.

Arthur Kennedy's bravura performance as Communist attorney Barney Castle won him an Oscar nomination, but he lost out to Jack Lemmon for Mister Roberts. But my personal favorite in this film is the Judge played with strength and dignity by Juano Hernandez. Judge Hernandez shows as Shakespeare put it that the quality of mercy is indeed not strained.

I can't think of another film in that time that showed some of the problems that scar America's soul, but also show that the cure offered might indeed be worse.

Unseen is a state investigating committee against subversives where Ford's been subpoened to appear. That's not modeled after McCarthy, the reference is to a California State Senator named Jack Tenney who in that era attempted to be a state version of McCarthy. And like McCarthy generated a lot of heat, but very little light.

Glenn and the cast can be very proud of the work they did on this film.

This film fascinates precisely BECAUSE of its confused treatment of the theme of bigotry. It does not only refer, under a thin disguise of name, to Senator McCarthy - but also to the Ku Klux Klan. To me, its chief value is that it illustrates rather startlingly the ethical strangeness of a mid-fifties America apparently seeking a definition of justice while still beset with considerable self-doubt concerning its own institutions.

Few films of the period make so explicit the names of the antagonists; that is what sets it apart.

On the level of pure melodrama, it is entertaining, fast-paced and convincingly acted. The opening scene suggests an erotically-charged no man's land, namely the beach community of San Juno, anno 1947. This is the scene that I think will remain in my memory, because it precedes all the rhetoric, legalistic and otherwise, which never quite connects with the reality of spontaneous behaviour - simply, groping in the dark.

Surprisingly, this movie is very entertaining. Some parts are unintentionally humorous, and it's not one of the all-time greats, but it is well worth watching. It's much more involving than most movies of its day.

Trial is an intelligently written look at the explosive issues of the 50s: race and communism. Though the film is hindered by its overly virulent anti-communist screenplay, it does try and deal with the intersection of race and justice in what was probably a very liberal manner in 1955. Trial is probably the first American film made with an African-American in an authority role (the always excellent Juano Hernandez as the trial judge). The film does take a wack at McCarthy (here 'disguised' as Congressman Battle) and also is openly critical of racists and nationalists. Even with the redbaiting--some of which is probably accurate--Trial is a very well made and brave film with one of Glenn Ford's best performances at its heart.

An hour and a quarter into Trial, the jury is finally impanelled. Ostensibly a legal drama, the movie casts wide its net, dragging in multi-hued racism, anti-Communism and fellow-travelers, corruption, vigilantism and media justice.

That venerable academy State University won't renew law prof Glenn Ford's contract because he lacks courtroom experience. He signs up with slick lawyer Arthur Kennedy ("Law's a business like any other"), who promptly makes him point man in a high-visibility trial. A Mexican boy has been charged with murder of an underage Anglo girl in a case of statutory rape. Town racists whip up a lynch mob; meanwhile, Kennedy flits across the country to milk cash from a leftist rally for the boy. But, confident that Ford will blow the defense, he's only interested in providing a profitable martyr for the "cause."

Ford faces a thankless task in the courtroom -- and the movie. Always the strong, stoic sufferer, he here plays a dupe, kept in the background, his face curdled into a mask of disdain. (Helpmate Dorothy McGuire, as Kennedy's maverick Girl Friday, shows more passion and intelligence.) His adversary is D.A. John Hodiak, so between them the soggy scenes before the bench fizzle out. Ford's final gallop to the rescue comes too late to neutralize the cynical torpor; the young Mexican proves as much of a pawn in the hands of the moviemakers as in the manipulative attorneys' and officials'.

Trial raises more provocative and timely issues than it can begin to explore, let alone resolve. It's a pity, because those issues still smoulder today, in the America of Court TV spectacles and an ideologically embalmed judiciary.