Anatomy of a Murder is a prime example of just how revolutionary the movies of Otto Preminger were. Preminger, thanks to his consistent tackling of controversial subject matter in his work, was one of the filmmakers most responsible for breaking the restrictions of the old Motion Picture Production Code, a prudish list of "shall nots" designed by men of rather puritanical tastes and morals. Preminger, through such films as The Moon Is Blue and The Man with the Golden Arm and Advise and Consent, was always pushing the envelope, trying to get more provocative material into theaters. Anatomy of a Murder, which is now more than sixty years old, is still capable of engrossing the viewer, and that's not true of many older films. It remains a powerful, shocking film about issues that are still relevant.
The movie begins with the return of Jimmy Stewart's Paul Biegler to Iron City, Michigan (the Upper Peninsula, to be specific). He's an attorney, but hardly a successful or even orthodox one. We are given clues throughout the film that he seems less than dedicated to creating a thriving law practice or becoming a financial success. He recently lost an election for district attorney, so now many of his days are spent fishing; his refrigerator is filled with his recent catches. He smokes Italian cigarettes, certainly some sort of sign of his decadence. He even hangs out with the town drunk, Arthur O'Connell's Parnell McCarthy, a former lawyer himself. And, perhaps most telling, he likes jazz music. He even plays it to relax, something you suspect no respectable person would have done in the 1950s, given its associations at the time with blacks and beatniks. (The film's score is a masterful creation by Duke Ellington, by the way, and worth listening to on its own.)
Biegler receives a phone call from Laura Manion (played by Lee Remick). Her husband has been charged with murder for killing Barney Quill, the man she says raped her, and she wants Biegler to represent him. Army Lt. Frederick Manion (played by Ben Gazzara) shot the victim five times but claims to have no memory of what happened. Our first image of Remick is unforgettable. She's wearing large dark sunglasses and carrying a dog. Each subsequent time she appears on screen, our impression of her gets even more complicated. She's sporting a bruised eye under those glasses, of course, but she claims her injuries are more widespread. She tells Beigler, "You should see all over" in such a suggestive manner that he has to pause a moment. At this point in your viewing of the film, you should start to realize that Laura is no shrinking violet. She's a party girl, and her past (and present) behavior is only going to complicate the trial. Biegler's assistant, played to the hilt by the great Eve Arden, describes Laura as "the kind [of woman] men like to take advantage of and do."
The suspect is little help to his own case. He can't pay Biegler; he can only offer a promissory note if he's found not guilty. He divorced his first wife to marry Laura, and there were charges of "cruelty" leveled at the time. Around the base and at the trailer park where he and his wife live, he's got the reputation of having a quick and violent temper, especially when his pretty wife and other men are involved. He didn't catch Quill in the act of raping Laura. In fact, it took almost an hour for him to find Quill and shoot him. Now he can't recall any of the details of what happened. Manion is diagnosed by an Army psychiatrist as having had a "dissociative reaction." He had an "irresistible impulse" that caused him to black out after killing Quill. Biegler sees his defense: temporary insanity.
It's an hour into the film before the trial itself actually begins. The prosecuting attorney (played by Brooks West) has—and needs—the assistance of George C. Scott's Claude Dancer, an assistant state attorney general with a quick mind and a sharp tongue. The prosecution is trying to keep the issue of the rape out of the trial, hoping that the members of the jury will only be allowed to deliberate the details of the murder. Stewart's Biegler, though, keeps using clever tactics to raise the issue until it is apparent that the rape must be discussed in open court. For example, he asks elliptical questions about the circumstances of the context of the murder—trying to hint that Manion was reacting to the rape of his wife—but the questions only serve to confuse the jury and the members of the trial audience. It's the testimony of a police officer that finally makes discussion of the alleged rape admissible.
Preminger and his screenwriters were not given free rein to represent the details of the case, though, even though the film was based upon an actual trial. This was still delicate material in 1959, and the language used in polite society was quite different then. For example, the doctor who conducted the autopsy must answer whether or not there was spermatogenesis in the deceased. It took me a minute or so the first time I heard that to realize that Beigler was asking if Quill had had sex right before he died, if he had produced sperm and if he had ejaculated. We have come so far in our depictions of crimes that you can hear such formerly intimate matters on a cop show any night of the week and described in much cruder language, too.
There's also the sensitive issue of what to do about Laura Manion's underwear. Well, that's not the word they use in the trial, and that's at least part of the issue. Everyone seems to want to call them "panties," but the judge is a bit worried about the reaction of the crowd to the use of that word. After casting about for an alternative, Dancer says he knows a French word for the garment, but that it might be suggestive. One of the biggest laughs in the movie—which has quite a few funny moments, actually—is the judge's response: "Most French words are." Eventually, he gives up and tells the crowd that the garment in question is a pair of panties so that they can all get their giggling and tittering out of the way.
The panties are important evidence. If they are found--they've been missing since the night of the murder—that could suggest that a rape did occur. The bartender at Quill's tavern, Alphonse Paquette (played by a young Murray Hamilton, the great character actor), implies that Laura Manion was coming on to Quill the night of the murder, going so far as to suggest that the way she played pinball was too suggestive. He thinks that any sex between Laura Manion and Barney Quill must have been consensual. Another employee of the tavern, Mary Pilant (played by Kathryn Grant, now best known as Mrs. Bing Crosby), rumored to be Quill's mistress, brings the torn panties to court and says she found them in the laundry bin at the motel where she and Quill (revealed to be her father, not her lover) lived. The jury returns a verdict of "not guilty by reason of insanity," and the Manions leave town before Biegler can collect the promissory note. The note they leave behind says they had an "irresistible impulse" to leave quickly.
What I most admire about this film is that it offers no simple answers, it presents no obvious black-and-white conclusions about any of the people or their actions, and the performers make their characters multi-dimensional, complex individuals. Remick's Laura does not behave as you might expect a rape victim to act. Instead, she seems to be one of those women who enjoy the various adventures life can offer, and such women's morals are often called into question. That doesn't mean that they aren't sometimes victimized, though. Remick is astonishingly good in the part, an obvious star on the rise. Gazzara's Army lieutenant is also tough, at times, to support. While you want to believe that his crime is best classified as justifiable homicide, too many points along the way suggest that the act is more premeditated than he will allow us to see. What constitutes justice in a case such as this? Preminger must have relished choosing subject matter where there are no obvious heroes and villains.
Oscar Nominations: Best Picture, Best Actor in a Leading Role (Jimmy Stewart), Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Arthur O'Connell and George C. Scott), Best Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium, Best Black-and-White Cinematography, and Best Film Editing
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