Among the strangest genres that’s disappeared from cinemas in 21st century is that of the courtroom thriller; in the 1990s, it was reasonable to think that films such as A Few Good Men, The Firm, The Pelican Brief, and The Rainmaker would suffice as “populist fare” in the same way that the post-Die Hard era of action cinema did. While there were more “elevated” courtroom thrillers, such as Jonathan Demme’s groundbreaking LGBT drama Philadelphia and Jim Sheridan’s historical epic In The Name of The Father, many of these films were adapted from bestselling “airport novels,” which essentially depicted lawyers as modern superheroes.
Presumed Innocent was the perfect representation of this era because it allowed an acclaimed director and Hollywood’s biggest movie star to give a pastiche of prestige to a novel filled with ludicrous twists and turns. Alan J. Pakula, a veteran of 1970s conspiracy thrillers like All the President’s Men and The Parallax View, directed Harrison Ford in a performance that was no more believable than his work as Han Solo or Indiana Jones. Presumed Innocent didn’t necessarily offer a groundbreaking analysis of the justice system, but it's a watchable caper worth completing simply to see the dramatic final turn.
A Presumed Innocent reboot is one of the rare streaming announcements that didn’t immediately inspire derisive comments; in an era where excellent legal thrillers on television like Better Call Saul and Goliath, there was more than enough reason to believe that an eight-part adaptation of Presumed Innocent could offer a fresh perspective. Despite the expansive budget of an Apple TV+ original and a cast that included several Academy Award nominees, Presumed Innocent is refreshingly cheeky, as it’s designed to force its viewers to develop their own theories.
In the role of Rusty Sabich, the respected Chicago lawyer once played by Ford, is Jake Gyllenhaal, an actor who’s done a complete 360. Gyllenhaal essentially gave up his attempt to be a blockbuster star after the disastrous reception to Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, and temporarily indulged in more auteur-centric fare as Nightcrawler, The Sisters Brothers, Wildlife, and Stronger. However, Gyllenhaal’s current mode is most comparable to the stint that Nicolas Cage pulled in the 1990s, as he’s seemingly signed on to any project in which he is given the autonomy to be as dialed up as possible. While this may mean a challenging arthouse gem like Bong Joon-ho’s sci-fi satire Okja or Tom Ford’s psychological thriller Nocturnal Animals, it may also mean a ridiculous Michael Bay action vehicle like Ambulance, or the ridiculous Amazon Prime remake of Road House.
If Ford’s performance was compelling because it showcased a mannered, reserved professional slowly admitting to faults, Gyllenhaal’s a loose cannon who’s always on the verge of an outburst. While a maintenance of that level of kinetic energy isn’t easy for a show that has to build up to its most shocking moments, Presumed Innocent has cleverly pulled back the curtain on what’s important in solving a case. The series is cynical enough to imagine that jurors would be more swayed by flamboyant showmanship than calculated evidence, but it's also smart enough to recognize that this heightened style would make for more entertaining television.
The casting is smart because Gyllenhaal doesn’t have the same wholesomeness of Ford. It’s far more believable for Gyllenhaal to have the role of a duplicitous scumbag, and the only way for Presumed Innocent to make him remotely pleasant was to square him off with an eclectic rouge’s gallery of shady lawyers, politicians, and witnesses. Most memorable is Gyllenhaal’s brother-in-law, Peter Sarsgaard, in the role of the rival prosecutor Tommy Molto; Molto’s useful because his stagnant sense of reserve is the opposite of Sabich, but he’s also an easily identifiable “television villain” designed to feel like a snobbish high school brat.
Given that Presumed Innocent was given the opportunity to be as creatively violent and proactively sexual as a TV-MA rating would allow, one of the smartest decisions made was to not treat the victim, Carolyn Polhemus, as someone that would be missed. Renate Reinsve, the Norwegian star best known for her showy roles in The Worst Person in the World and last year’s Armand, portrays a character who’s a known quantity within the Chicago legal system for her ruthless demeanor. If Carolyn’s death was a tragedy, then Presumed Innocent would have to be dedicated to the remembrance of her life, which has no relevance to viewers simply interested in who the culprit is. Reinsve has a brilliant approach to the way that Carolyn is depicted in the frequent flashbacks; she has an identifiable impact on everyone she has met, which suggests that there are far more suspects than the initial case suggested.
Although there are a few lazy plot points inserted to prolong the actual trial, Presumed Innocent does understand the magnetism of being trapped within a courtroom. A sharp series of witness interviews shoehorns exposition in a natural way, and the dueling speeches given by Gyllenhaal and Sarsgaard embody the distinct philosophies about justice that the show’s latched on to; it’s ultimately a conflict between reasonable assumptions and suggestible doubt.