Sidney Lumet‘s The Verdict turns on a bullshit premise– an attorney can’t refuse a reasonable cash settlement if that’s what his/her client is looking to get — but I love it anyway for the following reasons:
In no particular order: (a) the Boston-Irish flavorings, (b) Jack Warden, (c) that straight-whiskey, pinball-machine opening, (d) Edward Binns, (e) James Mason‘s face when he realizes his case has just collapsed in the face of Caitlin Costello Price’s testimony, (f) Charlotte Rampling, and (g) those portions of Paul Newman‘s performance that don’t overplay the suffering and sanctimony. (Example: when he tells that dirty Irish joke to a bunch of rummies.)
