Tarlton Law Library
Jamail Center for Legal Research

I have found that students better understand this new "lan-
guage" than their book-bound teachers. While legal scholars are
more adept in reading written texts than their students, we
quickly find that our video sophisticated students are much
better trained in "reading" films. Therefore, film helps to level
the pedagogical playing field to the advantage of teacher and
students alike.

John Denvir¹

     Struggling to lift his hulking frame Hank Quinlan (Orson
Welles) stands nearly erect and half sober in the living room of 
Tanya's (Marlene Dietrich's) brothel. As the camera angle widens, 
foreshadowing the future, the head of a bull, skewered with swords,
looms over Quinlan. On the same wall, in a mirror surrounded by 
photographs of young handsome matadors, is the reflection of 
Miguel "Mike" Vargas (Charlton Heston), Quinlan's mortal enemy.
The scene typifies not only the allegorical nature of "Touch of Evil", 
but also how the director, Orson Welles, uses the film as a vehicle 
for his storytelling.

Through light and shadow, the use of sound and space, the char-
acters and the maze in which they search are defined. As the char-
acters lose themselves searching in the maze of Los Robles, the
viewer is similarly made to feel uneasy, disoriented and frightened.
Hank Quinlan's evil is not merely heard in his words or seen in his
actions, it is felt by the viewer through the violent movements of the
camera; the piercing, discontinuous sounds of latin music; the asym- 
metrical camera shots, and the disruption of time and space. This in-
tentionality of style ... subverts the "balance" of the viewer. The style
denies the viewer the ability to orient himself with any static point of

reference. Thus, as Quinlan acts farther outside his jurisdiction and 
the law, the viewer's perceptions of normality are similarly shaken 
by the camera. Through this style Welles effectively tells the story of 
corruption at the border; a story which the viewer not only sees and
hears but feels as well. Instead of "form over function," "Touch 
of Evil" is "form as function."

Welles further creates a feeling of imbalance through spatial manipu-
lation, by confusing foreground, middleground and background. In 
the scene after the car explodes, Quinlan and four other individuals
are shown in one frame, however they are all aligned asymmetrical-
ly with no center of balance in the scene. Similarly, when Grandi 
loses his "rug," in one shot he and his nephews are in the middle-
ground and in the subsequent shot they are in the foreground 
with the camera

remaining in deep focus. By stripping the "normal" film constructs,
foreground and background, of any static balance, Welles creates 
the optical equivalent of moral chaos. Everything is off-center in
"Touch of Evil, " reflecting the lack of middle ground between good 
and evil, and also the imbalance of the characters; the psychotic
Quinlan,the sadistic Grandi clan, the pure Suzie, the experienced 
Tanya and the "hubristic" Vargas.

... Sound defines space .... In "Touch of Evil" the aurals and visuals
do not fit. An example of this are the "disembodied" voices after the
explosion. The voices sound as if they are they are confined to a 
small room. In reality, however, the scene is in an open field. This 
combined with the voices competing and overlapping with each
other within the frame builds tension as well as shaking the viewer's 
perceptions of how people talking should sound.
   Another way in which Welles achieves this is by separating sound
from its source and confusing it with reflections and shadows.  For 
example, when the Grandi clan races to the Mirador Motel, the 
sound of their engines is heard as if they were six feet away, yet the
camera shows them off in the distance. And when Suzie calls to her
husband from the fire escape, the viewer hears her as if she were in 
the next room, while Vargas on  the street below is oblivious. Simil-
larly, when Menzies [Quinlan's deputy] and Quinlan "find" the plant-
ed evidence, the camera is focused on Vargas yet the sound is only
of Quinlan and Menzies off-screen. By the end of the film the view- 
er has lost all sense of distance and direction as well as the source 
itself. The most vivid illustration of this is the finale in which the 
"listener" hears Menzies' and Quinlan's voices (separated from their 
bodies) on the tape recorder in closeup, while seeing the two men
walk across the bridge at a distance. When Menzies is shot, the 
viewer never sees the actual shooting, but hears only a closeup
of the shots fired.

... [C]an the truth of a past event be known? Is an "objective" reality
possible, or is every past occurrence only possible of interpretation
within the context of the observer's unique unrepeatable perspective
of the event?

    ... since there is no recount[ing] of events that we can accept
as absolutely true ...we are forced to create systems of "truth substi-
tutes" as alternatives and thus "truth" becomes definable only within
the systems that we create....

     A popular example: last spring Tate George propelled the 
UCONN Huskies basketball team into the NCAA Final Eight by a
"buzzer beating" last second shot. But was the shot "good"? The 
best view provided by CBS cameras "Super Slo Mo" replays ap-
pears to indicate that Tate's hand touching the ball when the shot 
clock on the same screen indicated no time was remaining .. this re-
play became the "truth substitute" to which the announcers latched 
onto and their pronouncement was that UCONN stole a victory.
     ... But in the case of Tate's shot, accepting a camera replay as
the best "truth substitute" probably doesn't get us any closer to the
absolute truth than the version espoused by any random 
ticketholders. Perhaps if God were a Husky fan, He might inform 
us that two molecules that connected Tate's hand to the basketball 
ceased to "touch" one another (in some atomic sense) with a 
nanosecond of time remaining

in the game. However, anything short of such a divine vision will
contain all the inherent defects that "truth substitute" systems suffer
from. That is, belief in the truth becomes synonymous with belief in
the system.

As a general rule, the justice system seems to favor the "knowable"
version of the truth. Lawyers tend to believe the opposite. By their
behavior and their beliefs, lawyers view the truth as "unknowable" 
and as an unapproachable ideal. Thus a lawyer might say that the 
judicial system is not a search for truth but a forum for the exposition
of competing versions of what-the-hell happened in a given event.

... In the movie, truth is not static or fixed, but is malleable enough
to bend according to the teller of the story .... The movie's premise
achieves the effect of creating horrible unease in the hearts of viewers.

     How do detectives fit into this scheme? ... Each is faced with a
past event that is open to dispute; a crime, mystery, or confusing or
unexplained incident. Both must "reconstruct" the event for an audi-
ence. But here the detective and lawyer part company. The lawyer's
motivation is not necessarily to find the truth; instead he is motivated
to come up with a reasonable version of a story, consonant with the
facts, that best serves his client's needs and in turn his own. In con-
trast, the . . . detective traditionally wishes to find the truth, or the
least distorted version of truth available.

. . . an event leaves behind facts that are indelible and unique as a
fingerprint. The mere inspection of existing clues would expose a 
wolf-hound, a poisonous snake climbing a rope bellringer, or a
murderous orangutan. Though cloaked in enticing packaging, this 
view of the the way the world operates is mostly stage theatrics and
... borders on campiness.

     Gittes is quick-witted and bright but not of [Sherlock] Holmes-
ian intellect. Instead, Gittes' genius appears to be not in finding out
what the hell happened but in making things happen. Since the case
before him is not laid out like an intricate puzzle, Gittes must resort 
to old-fashioned investigative work and during his meddling,
dames scream, punches are thrown, and guns blaze in the night. 
Gittes is a human monkey wrench and despite being confused as 
to what his role should be, since he isn't sure of anything including 
why he was initially hired, he throws himself into a vague conspiracy
hidden against the gauzy southern California landscape .... Jake
seems to be aware that he will not always find clues merely by ob-
taining a superior vantage point but that clues must be dislodged by 
his very presence ...  In "Chinatown" Jake is as much a part of the 
overall plot as the crime itself.
      As much as "Chinatown" tends to resemble how truth is actual-
ly unearthed, the movie is still faithful to, and thus somewhat limited
by its adherence to the notion that, truth is "knowable." This com-
mitment to a clean, tidy universe is understandable in a commercial 
sense, since moviegoers are unlikely to flock to see a movie with no
resolution, or worse, one whose conclusion is that truth is unknow-.
able. Although "Chinatown" challenges commercial orthodoxy 
in certain ways, its iconoclasm is limited to sending the message
that the search for truth and justice is not rewarded (can it be its 
own reward?) and the act of doing good will only result in getting 
your new girlfried killed in the end.

     Morris sets out to show that all stories are hopelessly subjective,
and that truth cannot be found,except in the ending of the movie
Morris betrays his own thesis. By concluding his film with David
Harris's vague, ambiguous "confession," Morris has arranged the 
facts and interviews to produce the inevitable conclusion that
Randall Adams is innocent and Harris is guilty. While I do not argue
with the merits of this conclusion (any one who saw the movie
would have to agree that Harris is guilty as sin), the overall point of 
the movie is lost. Morris sets out to establish that all interpreters
of events rely on their particular perspective; this is why no two
accounts of an event can be absolutely similar and why the past
only exists according to the storyteller's will. But by choosing to
place Harris' confession at the end, Morris has made a conscious 
decision to have the story come to a conclusion that points to an
obvious "truth"; that Harris is guilty ...
     The theme of storyteller as creator of truth becomes an inces-
tuous one, as Morris appears to fall prey to the same folly as those 
that he tries to expose.

     I went to school with a murderer. Two weeks before gradua-
tion, the police discovered the mother's body in the trunk of the 
family car, where it rested while my schoolmate commuted to
class each day.  I attended a private Catholic girls' high school. The
student was con-

victed and sentenced to Niantic prison for Women, from whence 
presurnably she received a high school diploma. My story has a
point - the only murderer I ever knew personally was female, and 
very much like me, yet in the literature of criminality women infre-
quently appear as direct or deliberate, as so-called cold blooded 
murderers. Those that are portrayed directly are often queens or 
wariors, pseudo-males,operating in their stead. The others fall into 
two general categories, both images of women from childhood 
which persist in fiction about female outlaws. The evil step-
mother of  infamous fairy tales,grasping and jealous, dominates the 
night psyche of many a child. Eve, the primal temptress, continues 
hold over theimagination of adults. Both recur too often in fiction 
to be dismissed as childish remnants. This tendency is certainly not 
an issue NOW will take up any time soon, but it raises an interesting
question bout the literary/cinematictreatment of women involved 
in serious crime. In both "Badlands" and "At Close Range" 
females were co-conspirators with their male counterparts, yet the 
cinematic treatment of each reflects uncertainty about their real roles.

      An innocent high school baton twirler in the opening shot,
Holly views life as that baton, spinning and tumbling end-over-end,
but, at base, under her control. Originally, she seems an unwitting
victim, the object of Kit's obsession. This facade fades at her al-
most stoic acceptance of her father's murder and connivance in the 
the destruction of  her home. Her narrated commentary shows her 
to be aware of both the intentionality of her actions and a presenti-
ment of the end of her romantic adventure. She remains an elusive 
character, in spite of her diary-like recollections - somewhat
unattached from Kit, his aberrant behavior and her own fate. Even
her protestations of love fall short of real commitment.... This 
spree had little connection with her real life or aspirations, but
was a careless moment out of the short life of the young girl from 
Texas whose father was a sign painter.

      ... As their odyssey continues, Holly becomes increasingly less
communicative with Kit and more with the audience. As an observer
to the events of the story, she uses emotionally florid language that is
sophisticated and lyrical, while her character responds to Kit in 
vague, abbreviated comments. Revealing little of herself to Kit, the
persona she presents to the audience is illusory and other-worldly. 
For those

given to finding symbols in people, she becomes Kit's muse of evil, 
ever quiescent but stirring violence in him. Her report of his vision 
of herin beautiful white robes, but with a forehead cold to his touch,
is delivered in her childlike voice with pride.
     ... She parts from Kit, not because she suffers any great moral
angst, but because she has tired of the game. Perhaps she sensed his
willingness to kill had waned as he let a solitary oilman escape.
. . . The early interval in Eden, with the whispering forest
around them, forecast Holly's role as Eve, leading Kit to the tree of
evil, at once temptress and serpent, virgin and victim. The image is
repeated in Terry, the female companion in "At Close Range."

     Terry first appears offering herself for appraisal on the town
green. In her early responses to Brad's advances, she resembles 
Holly - tentative and virginal. Brad is the initial pursuer, but Terry
quickly rejects her safe middle class surroundings to join her for-
tunes with him. In desertion and realliance, she encourages Brad's 
growing association with his father, flirting with the evil in the 
character portrayed by Christopher Walken. The director's 
heavy-handed use of religious/cultural symbols throughout the movie 
emphasizes Terry's unique position in the father-son conflict. It is 
Terry who whispers the ultimate temptation in Brad Jr.'s ear, the 
suggestion which lures him into criminality and  the inescapable
confrontation with his father...
     The Eve image preserves women's roles as both helpmate and
temptress. It accounts for female evilness while maintaining her dual
status as desirable and subservient. How people respond to the Eve
figure in outlaw literature and film is symptomatic of how they feel
towards criminality in general. Eves evoke the ambivalence that 
marks the field, at once attractive and repugnant, compelling
a response to our very nature.

     The opening shot of "At Close Range" is Gatsby-esque, a deeply
romantic version of this same visual image: a teenage boy driving a car
into the center of a dream-like town, while the lights around him spin
as if a projection from inside his imagination. These lights are softly-
muted, distant. At the center of town, at the base of a monument,
there is a lovely innocent-faced barely post-pubescent girl. The boy
cruises slowly around the square. The music plays lyrical synthesizer
figures. The boy watches the girl intensely and, in slow motion,
tthe girl looks back. A deeply emotional cathexis is established
between the boy and the object of his desire .... As the title
suggests, the world is viewed "At Close Range" from the perspective 
of the adolescent outlaw anti-hero, Brad Whitewood Jr .... 
Romantic possibilities and interconnections are imbedded beneath
language, located in the mysteries of silence and experience.
     The visual style is not a gloss over the story. Instead, the style
enables the storyteller to open up his material to deeply and darkly
resonant mythic themes (e.g., the power of good and evil, the sins of
the father visited upon the son, and search for the lost father and the
ultimate desire for atonement with the father).

     In "At Close Range" the filmmaker's technique closely intercon-
nects his vision to the adolescent world of his anti-hero/outlaw ... The
eye" of the camera becomes the "I" of the criminal outsider .... In
"Badlands" the perspective is brought even farther inside the internal
world of the adolescent anti-heroine: the story is revealed through
internal monologue . . . .

     Like Luke Skywalker, Brad Whitewood Jr. embarks on a dan-
gerous journey to prove his manhood and fulfill his romantic longing
for sensual love, heroism and, ultimately, the possibility of transcen-
dence. Unlike Luke, however, Brad soon discovers that he is not
protected by the power of "The Force." The narrative possibilities
are dark and sinister. There is evil beneath the danger and risk-
taking rather than heroism, romance or, transcendence.

     Like Luke Skywalker's inevitable confrontation with Darth
Vader, the denouement comes in Brad Jr.'s final face-off "at close
range" against his father, evil personified, remarkably portrayed in
mythic shadings by Christopher Walken (who does not need to wear
a Darth Vader mask). There are deeply resonant lines here, beauti-
fully delivered with an edge of self-awareness bordering on parody.
For example, Brad Jr. retrieves the weapon that was presumably
used to slaughter the

kiddee gang, his half-brother, and his lover Terry. He demands to
know, "Is this the family gun Dad?" This father-son confrontation is
charged with realized emotional potentialities and the intentionally
sparse dialogue is energized by the punctuation of gunfire ....