The Judge, directed
by David Dobkin from a screenplay by Nick Schenk and Bill Dubuque, is a perfect
example of soft, flat, non-challenging, placating material that is made to
appeal to a demographic of people who watch movie as a means of sedation.
Because it stars two very fine actors in Robert Duvall and Robert Downey, Jr.,
and because it’s a courtroom drama, it is easily digestible to the broadest possible
audience.
Every nook and cranny of the story, the dialogue, the
character development, the drama, and the revelations is designed with intent
to please. Downey is Hank Palmer, a big shot Chicago lawyer. He’s about to face
a nasty divorce from his cheating wife (not that he’s without a blemish
morally) and has to return home for his mother’s funeral in Indiana. Duvall is
his father, the titular Judge Palmer, who has sat on the small town bench for
42 years. Their relationship is non-existent to say the least, a strain caused
by years of emotional abuse, neglect, and disregard for Hank’s success. See, he
used to be a delinquent and drug user and crashed the car that derailed his big
brother Glen’s professional baseball aspirations.
Downey sticks around when his father is arrested for a
hit and run. The man he killed, see, is a recently-released murderer whom the
Judge initially set free decades ago on a lesser charge. With motive established,
the charge is second degree murder. Billy Bob Thornton appears as the
prosecuting attorney who wants to see justice served and, because this movie
isn’t quite packed to the hilt with enough subplots, also has some absurd score
to settle with Hank. There are no real villains, which should be considered a
compliment. A lesser movie would have Thornton’s prosecutor be ruthless,
conniving, and a de facto bad guy for no good reason. Only the dead guy comes
close to being a villain and he’s on screen for only a few seconds.
The whole movie is just obvious down to a wide shot of
Hank and his father walking in opposite directions away from Glen’s car when
they can’t agree on a defense strategy. This is a movie that lets you think
that Hank may have made out with the daughter (Leighton Meester) he never knew
he had with a his high school flame, but you also have to know that a movie
like this will never leave you feeling that uncomfortable.
There’s occasional fun to be had in the way Duvall is so
casually abusive toward his adult sons, including the youngest, who is a little
slow in a way you never see outside the movies. And it’s fun to watch Downey
freak out with frustration at the way his father’s first attorney, a locally
educated country bumpkin played by Dax Shepard who still lives with his mom, mucks
up the preliminary hearing.
The courtroom drama aspect gets the details right and it
doesn’t feel quite as unbelievable as these things tend to be, but ultimately
what transpires in the courtroom takes a back seat to the relationship between
father and son. There could be some powerful drama there, but it’s all so
superficial and never given room to develop organically amid so many
superfluous characters and subplots. Vera Farmiga as Hank’s old girlfriend and
Vincent D’Onofrio as Glen are formidable performers loafing through this silly
material. Frankly, this is beneath the talents of these great actors. They
deserve better than cheap sentiment and screenplay-by-numbers.
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