With multiple references to the approaching millennium and imagery of a booming economy,
The Devil's Advocate has become a relic of the 1990s—but what a glittering relic it is! Taylor
Hackford's gleeful morality tale captured the essence of a moment when anything seemed
possible, if only you could just relax, forget your doubts and tell yourself, "I deserve this". It was
an illusion, but it was fun while it lasted.
The notion of the devil as an attorney goes back at least to the 1937 short story "The Devil vs.
Daniel Webster", but arguably it's as old as the Book of Job. By the late 20th Century, when, as
Al Pacino's satanic super-lawyer notes, there were more law students than actual lawyers, the
idea was irresistible. Business was booming, firms were expanding, and it was easy to accept
Pacino's claim that "the law puts us into everything". Today, with law school enrollment down
and firms more venerable than the film's Milton, Chadwick & Waters out of business, the world
looks a lot different. But if Milton's firm really existed, it would surely be among the survivors,
and so would the clients who paid it handsomely to work its magic.
The distinctiveness of The Devil's Advocate becomes clear when you try to categorize it. It isn't a
horror film, although it has its share of creepy elements; it isn't a drama, despite scenes of
intense human emotion; and it isn't a comedy, even though certain moments are clearly designed
to provoke laughter (there can be no other explanation for Pacino's sudden eruption into song-and-dance during his famous maniacal monologue
at the conclusion). If there's a single plot
strand that ties it all together, it's whether the young lawyer played by Keanu Reeves will ever
step up and do, as he himself puts it, "the right thing". It's not an easy decision. "Wide is the
gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to temptation", warns his Baptist mother, borrowing from
the Gospel of Matthew. (As it turns out, she knows all too well whereof she speaks.) The "right"
thing usually involves sacrifice, and a host of considerations counsels against it: money,
ambition, reputation, professional ethics, even one's loving spouse. Only after much pain and
loss does the film's youthful protagonist accept the necessity of doing the right thing, and even
then the film leaves it unclear whether the lesson will stick.
Kevin Lomax (Reeves) is a hotshot criminal defense attorney in Gainesville, Florida. He never
lost a case as a prosecutor, and he's never lost a case in private practice. The film opens with his
latest victory, the exoneration of a grade school teacher, Lloyd Gettys, accused of molesting one
of his students (Heather Matarazzo). (Examine Gettys closely, and you'll recognize Chris Bauer,
looking nothing at all like his character Andy Bellefleur on True Blood.) Kevin achieves this
victory despite his own realization, during the course of the trial, that Gettys is guilty.
As he celebrates with wife Mary Ann (Charlize Theron), Kevin receives an offer from Leamon
Heath (Ruben Santiago-Hudson, much missed since his departure from Castle), a junior partner
in the New York firm of Milton, Chadwick & Waters. They'll pay him handsomely to come to
New York with Mary Ann and help them pick a jury. Despite the misgivings of his devoutly
Christian mother, Alice (Judith Ivey), who regards New York City as Babylon, Kevin accepts the
offer and performs so admirably that he's offered a permanent job at the firm. "We kill you with
kindness", says the firm's charismatic leader, John Milton (Pacino), and sure enough, the offer is
too good to resist. The minute Mary Ann sees the enormous Fifth Avenue apartment that comes
with the deal, she's hooked (though she'll shortly regret it).
Milton's firm does everything, and their business spans the globe, as demonstrated by the
multinational contingent that welcomes Kevin on his first day. The group includes a polylingual
enchantress named Christabella Andreoli (Connie Nielsen) to whom Kevin is immediately drawn
with every fiber of his being. While Mary Ann remains at home trying to decorate their new
abode and feeling more and more like a country rube in the company of Manhattan sophisticates
like Leamon Heath's wife, Jackie (Tamara Tunie), Kevin busies himself establishing Milton,
Chadwick & Waters' new criminal department, assisted by Pam Garrety (Debra Monk), a veteran
from the Brooklyn D.A.'s office.
Their first case involves a voodoo shaman, Moyez (Delroy Lindo), who lives in a filthy Harlem
basement where he was arrested for slaughtering goats. He's also worth millions and somehow
makes the prosecutor lose his voice while Kevin presents a successful defense. Milton is so
impressed that he promotes Kevin ahead of the city's entire defense bar when the firm's long-time real estate client, a Trump-like figure named Alex
Cullen (Craig T. Nelson), is arrested for
the brutal murders of his wife, his stepson and a maid. Kevin loves the opportunity and the
limelight, but before he's done, he'll knowingly present perjured testimony in court—a genuine
ethical violation, as opposed to defending a guilty man like Gettys, which at least was consistent
with professional standards—and he'll lose Mary Ann. He'll also lock horns with the firm's
managing partner, Eddie Barzoon (Jeffrey Jones), who becomes convinced, not without reason,
that Kevin is a threat to his job. Like anyone else who obstructs Kevin's career progress, Barzoon
is efficiently removed.
There's never any doubt about who Milton is. The pleasure of The Devil's Advocate is watching
Kevin's dawning awareness of the game that's being played for his soul. (As it turns out, his
mother was right, although she should have told him more than she did.) Viewers often
remember the film for Pacino's bravura performance when Milton rages at God in a final
confrontation with Kevin in his penthouse, after a surreal walk through a deserted Manhattan,
when all the pent-up supernatural forces have finally broken free. For me, though, Pacino's finest
moments occur earlier in the film, when Milton walks a fine line between eccentric and demonic,
so that Kevin can't quite be sure what to make of his new boss. You can see him thinking, maybe
this is how a powerful man behaves . . .
Then, before he can ponder it sufficiently, a problem of legal strategy arises or the beautiful
Christabella floats by, and Kevin's attention goes elsewhere. And that's how they get you.
In his commentary, director Hackford praises The Devil's Advocate's cinematographer, Andrzej
Bartkowiak, for understanding precisely the rich, dark look that he wanted for the film.
Bartkowiak had done courtroom dramas for Sidney Lumet, but Hackford clearly was after
something more seductive, so that even the courtroom scenes would have some degree of sensual
allure (which is how Kevin experiences them). Aside from one specific issue, which I'll discuss
separately below, Warner's 1080p, AVC-encoded Blu-ray beautifully reproduces Bartkowiak's
work, with excellent detail, deep, rich blacks and an almost tactile sheen on many of the
expensive surfaces in the overdecorated New York apartments, offices and high-end stores that
are the natural habitats of the successful lawyers and their clients and wives. A fine grain pattern
is readily visible and does not appear to have been disturbed by filtering or other manipulation,
nor is there any indication of artificial sharpening. Despite the large number of audio options,
compression errors were not in evidence, probably because the extras are scant.
The one area where the image quality isn't quite up to these standards is in the large sculpture
behind Milton's desk in his penthouse. As has been discussed at some length on the Blu-ray.com
forum (and reflected in a somewhat cryptic note on the back of the Blu-ray case), after the film's
release, sculptor Frederick Hart and the Washington National Cathedral sued Warner Brothers,
claiming that the sculpture was an unauthorized copy of Hart's sculpture "Ex Nihilo", which is
on permanent display at the cathedral. As a result of the litigation, Warner was required to
remove the sculpture from all shots in which it appears, until the final section of the film when it
comes to life, at which point it no longer resembles Hart's work.
The Warner effects department has replaced the sculpture in all prior scenes with an abstract
display that resembles white clouds. For its era, the effects work was state of the art, but by
today's standards, it's less than ideal. At Blu-ray resolution, there is minor image instability in
these portions of the frame whenever the sculpture is in view. The work may have been good
enough for DVD, but it isn't good enough for Blu-ray.
Finally, I note that the prior version of The Devil's Advocate containing these court-ordered
alterations continued to be designated as R-rated on video, whereas this Blu-ray has been dubbed
an "Unrated Director's Cut" with a note on the back: "This unrated version contains material
different from the original R-rated version." I was not able to identify any change from the
theatrical version (of which 475,000 DVDs were issued before the changes were made) other
than the removal of Hart's statue. If anyone else identifies a difference, please let me know, and I
will update the review.
The sound mix for The Devil's Advocate, presented here in DTS-HD MA 5.1, demonstrates
repeated and inventive use of "subjective" effects to convey the supernatural presence of evil,
which may just as easily be in one's head as in the real world. An early example occurs when
Kevin Lomax asks for a break in the Florida molestation trial and goes to wash his face in the
men's room. An unearthly whoosh slides in from the right rear, where the reporter who will goad
Kevin into continuing his defense is currently standing. Eddie Barzoon experiences similar sonic
apparitions (to accompany the visual ones) during his fateful run in Central Park, and of course
Mary Ann hears many odd things. Listen, as well, for the changes in sound when Kevin first sees
Christabella in her office; it's as if her distant voice moves forward into his head.
In addition to these subtler effects, there are the obvious ones, such as Milton's voice circling the
surround array when Kevin enters his penthouse near the end of the film. All of this is clearly
delineated, along with the often elaborate dialogue, which is mostly centered but occasionally
pans left or right. James Newton's Howard's score sounds appropriately foreboding and at times
even operatically solemn.
The extras have been ported over from the original 1998 DVD. Omitted are two TV spots, an
unusually large number of text screens with information about the production, and four trailers
for other Warner films.
Commentary by Taylor Hackford: Hackford is an engaging speaker, but this isn't one
of his better commentaries, insofar as too much of it simply narrates the film. There are
occasional insights into the production process, but they are too few. Most of them have
found their way into trivia items at IMDb.
Deleted Scenes (SD; 2.40:1, enhanced; 47:04): Unlike the DVD, where Hackford's
commentary on these scenes could not be switched off, the twelve scenes are here
presented with the commentary as an option. This represents their first release in a form
where they can be watched on their own. Most are extended versions of scenes that exist
in the film, but a few, including a court appearance involving Barzoon and Justice
Department representative Mitch Weaver (Vyto Ruginis), are true "deleted" scenes.
There's also a short additional encounter between Kevin and Christabella in which they
are considerably more direct with each other than anything that exists in the film as
released.
Theatrical Trailer (SD; 1.78:1, enhanced; 2:21): Effective and doesn't give away
anything crucial.
Regardless of one's personal belief in the literal existence of Satan, Pacino's portrayal in The
Devil's Advocate remains a compelling portrait of evil, because Pacino himself is such a
charismatic screen presence. His Milton exudes the charm, the mystery, the fascination that have
always been the most effective weapons of those urging us to do "the wrong thing". Ten years
later, the film's co-screenwriter, Tony Gilroy, would write and direct Michael Clayton, which
grew out of research he'd done for The Devil's Advocate and contained a human version of the
Milton character in the person of firm leader Marty Bach (played to perfection by the late Sydney
Pollack). Like Milton, Bach had to deal with a long-time friend and partner who was threatening
to blow the whistle on a client of the firm—and then the errant lawyer died. Bach didn't
cause the death, but his reaction was worthy of Milton: "We caught a break!" Evil comes in
many forms. Highly recommended.
