Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

"Beyond a Reasonable Doubt" is a curious film - it has the look and feel of a B movie and two stars who had seen better days - Dana Andrews and Joan Fontaine - yet it's a good script directed by Fritz Lang. A novelist (Andrews) and his future father-in-law, a newspaper magnet (Sidney Blackmer) work together to prove that the death penalty isn't justified by framing Andrews for a recent murder.

I thought the story excellent with some exciting twists, though the whole movie has an underplayed (not to mention inexpensive) feeling to it. Fontaine seemed a little old for her role. However, she does a good job as a sophisticate, and Andrews is good as well. Barbara Nichols does a fine job in a typical supporting role for her.

Lang returned to Germany after this film, his last in America. It's an effective plot but one wishes the man who made Metropolis and so many other fine films was given more of a budget for his swansong.

Fritz Lang's twenty years as a Hollywood refugee, which had started so spiritedly with "Fury", gradually wound down to the grey, listless offering that is "Beyond a Reasonable Doubt". True, Lang's first and last titles have family resemblances. "Fury" concerns a man who may or may not have committed a capital crime but who deserves due process rather than lynching; "Doubt" is about a guy who frames himself to prove that the irrevocable sentence of capital punishment, legal or not, is never justifiable if the law is fallible.

But whereas the argument of "Fury" was driven full steam ahead by a master of montage ("Metropolis") and suspenseful pacing ("M"), "Doubt" consists largely of two- or three-shots of men in suits with "display kerchiefs", arguing in paneled offices with unraised voices. The story has its due ration of twists as Dana Andrews's writer is persuaded by his prospective father-in-law, a crusading press magnate, to set himself up as a burlesque dancer's killer; the two of them will keep records of the plot that are sure to exonerate Andrews before he faces the chair. (Wouldn't he get a stiff sentence for wasting the cops' time, though?)

But the focus shifts awkwardly from Andrews to his girl and lawyer as it unwinds, and the scenario is oddly bare of dramatic crises. For example, the press boss's death occurs off screen and his exoneration is brought in by his lawyer, not tracked down by his daughter, Andrews's fiancée. Only a few backstage scenes with the dancing girls, all peroxide and nasal cynicism, enliven proceedings. Andrews had begun to freeze into the stone faced stolidity which hampered his later career, while 39 year old Fontaine (the classic aging actress's age) is matronly in costume, maquillage and demeanor: encased in stately prissiness like other English ladies of Hollywood such as Garson and Kerr.

Apart from Fontaine the production looks as well as feels impoverished, aesthetically like Ida Lupino's and Collier Young's problem pics but without their punch. The final twist is not signaled strongly enough to give smarter audience members a decent chance of foreseeing it. At one ludicrous moment, the publisher suggests his guests catch up on the day's highlights in Andrews's murder trial: he turns on a TV which immediately and obligingly recounts them, like George Burns's magic set on "The Burns and Allen Show". Incidentally, was covering trials and commenting on them normal for American television c. 1955?

"Beyond a Reasonable Doubt" was a swansong not only for Lang but for RKO. It had abandoned production three years earlier after being wrecked by Howard Hughes, had sold its studio to Desi and Lucy and was now reduced to releasing outside product: in this instance from one Bert Friedlob. It really was time for Herr Lang to catch the plane back to de-Nazified Germany.

Sometimes, in the world of 1940s-1950s film noir, we are given a film so transparently impossible and contrived that we can see ourselves giving up on watching it half way through. But is extremely rare that we are faced with a film where the very response the viewer is having holds the key to the success, rather than the failure, of the film.

Such is the case with BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT, which has - to its credit - been completely misunderstood by many. When we reach the film's conclusion, we realize that even the title of the film itself is a joke, perhaps the ultimate prank on the viewer. Yet to offer analysis of the film would be to destroy its main and most sinister motive; you can't "explain away" the glaring plot holes and contrivances without revealing the twist the film takes in its climax, and to do would rob the viewer of a genuine experience. So... I won't.

Suffice it to say, BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT is far more than it seems and is nothing without the sum of its parts, in total. Lang tackles the story of a person who creates a fictitious role for himself in order to, essentially, pull a fast one on the legal profession for personal gain (or, as it appears on the surface, someone else's). In the world of film noir, of course, we know that such a character won't get away with it, but when Lang depicts the tragedy the viewer knows will come, he majestically turns the entire premise on its head. As a result, it's a cold slap in the face - a devastating critique of the complicity of the audience in following along, hungrily, with such contrivances in cinema.

Every part of the film fits perfectly by not fitting at all. Even the visual style of the film is a cold, rarely pleasing one, almost daring you to suspend your disbelief just a little bit longer without even granting the pleasure of emotionally charged close-ups at key moments. The editing is brutal and jarring, cutting away practically mid-sentence and moving to a similar conversation elsewhere.

As a swan song to his Hollywood career, BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT does to the audience what Billy Wilder does to the industry in SUNSET BLVD. - biting the hand that feeds. The result is a total masterpiece.

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (1956)

An early wide screen black and white drama that marks the end of Fritz Lang's American career and also shows the winding down of two great stars, Joan Fontaine and Dana Andrews. The film is no send off, exactly, but it is slightly tired, as if the formula of movie-making needs a twist and it isn't here.

That's not the point, of course. This is now the mid-fifties, crisis time for Hollywood, and with widescreen (and widescreen color) movies making a final jab at the rise of television. The plot is sensational, and not too far from what an extended early television drama might try, with mostly interior shooting and a staged (sometimes stagey) presentation. In all it's not Lang's best, and he was a master at both noir/expressionist drama and at getting to the human dilemma of fate and murder.

Andrews and Fontaine are not a bad pair—both are matched in calm and sophistication, and beauty, even, though Fontaine seems like an accessory until the very end. Andrews rules the plot, which makes him out to be a writer desperate for a new story. So desperate he's going to pretend to commit a murder just to test the justice system.

It's all so outrageous you want to believe it, though your mind says it just wouldn't happen. It's too convenient, and one man's suggestion from the newspaper turns out to be the other man's reality. Enough said!

Oddly enough, this is an RKO distribution even after the studio's demise (I don't know the reasons there) but it might point to a less than perfect crew. Certainly the cinematographer, which Lang relied on greatly in earlier films, is no one with credentials. Likewise the editing and writing are fairly routine, even lackluster. And so if a movie that depends on some psychological intensity is really a bit of a grunt effort, whatever the star power involved, it's a bit doomed.

So watch this if you are curious about any of the parts. I'm a fan of all three of the principles here, and so had to watch it. But I didn't walk away impressed.

... and I highly recommend it. The implausible plot has a few large potholes and implausible events but it has a heck of an ending. It is clever enough to be entertaining while being complete and utter glossy trash. They couldn't possibly believe this film made any points against capital punishment.

Barbara Nichols is priceless as always.