Contempt of court

A Civil Action lacks, well, action

by Peter Keough

**1/2 A CIVIL ACTION Written and directed by Steven Zaillian based on the book by Jonathan Harr. With John Travolta, Robert Duvall, Tony Shalhoub, William H. Macy, John Lithgow, and Kathleen Quinlan. A Paramount Pictures release. At Cinema World, Entertainment Cinemas, Framingham, Gardner, the Hoyt Dayville, the Hoyt Westborough, Leominster, the Solomon Pond Hoyt, and the Worcester North Showcase.

The names of the corporate defendants in the infamous Woburn toxic-waste suit -- Beatrice and Grace --should have warned attorney Jan Schlichtmann that he was in for an infernal descent. As related in Jonathan Harr's engrossing bestseller about the case, Schlichtmann succumbs to the temptations of greed, good intentions, and hubristic braggadocio and plummets to the deepest circles of squandered opportunity, courtroom embarrassment, and bankruptcy.

He's only part of the story -- the plight and the perseverance of the families of the children who die from leukemia because of industrially polluted drinking water are more moving and uplifting. But his is the part Steven Zaillian focuses on, no doubt trying to reprise the success of his screenplay of Schindler's List, with its tale of a crass opportunist who finds redemption. Despite its title, A Civil Action is inert, with a bland civility that could use more darkness and irony. Portrayed by John Travolta, who's overstayed his welcome as the lovable, amoral scamp in films ranging from Pulp Fiction to Primary Colors, Schlichtmann is an empty suit, devoid of complexity, propelled by perfunctory conflicts. We don't even get to see much of what he purportedly does best -- perform in a courtroom.

That, of course, would entail giving more screen time to Robert Duvall as Jerome Facher, Beatrice's attorney and Schlichtmann's nemesis. A sad, subdued, rumpled bag of tics and acrimony, Duvall's veteran trial lawyer quietly destroys Travolta's flashy barrister in every scene they share. Part of his advantage is that his motivation is a lot more understandable, if unexemplary. Schlichtmann, on the other hand, seems defined by his
accessories, or, as fortune turns against him, his loss of them. We meet him in the beginning in his full power-tied glory, tooling about in a Porsche and riding a reputation for being the classiest and most successful ambulance chaser in town, a maven on talk shows who charms listeners with his savvy and cynicism.

Then the Woburn case comes to his attention. Kids have been dying of cancer, and the culprit seems to be contaminants filtered into the town's wells from two industrial sites. The case has the emotional appeal of dead children and grieving parents, but Schlichtmann's bean-counting partner, James Gordon (William H. Macy), sees it as a bottomless hole of investment, with little hope of any payoff given the difficulty of establishing responsibility and the seeming lack of resources of the companies involved. Schlichtmann drives to Woburn to tell the families the bad news, but as he's stopped near the sites on his way back for speeding, his curiosity gets the best of him. He trespasses on the property and discovers that the offenders are not just some local operation but subsidiaries of two of the country's bigger corporations.

So much for the problem of deep pockets. The more serious question of what propels Schlichtmann toward his vainglorious and self-destructive crusade remains unanswered, since Zaillian and Travolta seem at a loss as how to dramatize their hero's psychology and morality. One of the book's virtues is that it shows how abstractions like truth and justice can be clarified or muddled through the details of a complex legal conflict. Fearing that audiences will be confused and bored by debates about water tables, the film limits the courtroom showdowns to a few showpieces and some uninspiring montages. It's more concerned with the poignance of its recurring and gratuitous water imagery, or the pathos of Schlichtmann's being forced by mounting costs to sell off the pricy accouterments of his downtown office.

The Woburn victims get short shrift too. The death of one child while being rushed to the hospital, depicted with wrenching restraint in the book, here is presented
primarily as a brief flashback,
presumably imagined by Schlichtmann and serving as a spur to his conscience. And Anne Anderson (Kathleen Quinlan), one of the grieving mothers whose persistence and courage were largely responsible for bringing the case to court, comes off in her brief appearances as an ungrateful whiner.

A Civil Action does have its rewards. There's Duvall; and Macy's anal-retentive Conway is sad and funny as he unravels along with the firm's bank account. And John Lithgow brings a welcome ambiguity and flair as the alternately untrustworthy and clear-headed Judge Skinner. Like the resolution of the case itself, though, this is an insufficient settlement for such a tragedy.