The Claus von Bulow case reopened, with no new reversal of verdict. That was hardly in the cards, since the movie was based on the book by Alan Dershowitz, the Harvard law professor and human-rights activist who headed von Bulow's appeal and obtained a reversal of the original verdict. So, reopened why? Well, for purposes of gaping, at the very least; probably also at the very most. And for certain we get some riveting glimpses of two disparate lifestyles: that of the effete American aristocracy (the hypoglycemic heiress in dark glasses at the dinner table, defying doctor's orders and spooning up a fudge sundae for supper) and that of the engagé Jewish liberal (the charismatic lawyer with his round-the-clock cadre of students, ex-students, ex-lover, et al., bivouacked in his house like an army of occupation). But glimpses only. The preparation of the legal argument proceeds by leaps and bounds, skips and jumps, rather than by followable logic and legwork; and the selective flashbacks to the von Bulow household paint a rather spotty picture of the place, like that of a portraitist specializing in warts and leaving the rest undone. These flashbacks are really of little help except insofar as they make a small but splashy role for Glenn Close as the multi-addicted heiress, transmogrified into a premature crone by her Pat Nixon hairdo and slight limp (memento of a broken hip sustained while crocked). But it is left to the two lead actors, Jeremy Irons as von Bulow and Ron Silver as Dershowitz, to sustain, or periodically resuscitate, the clangorous incongruity underlying the case: the contrast of lifestyles which, while it seems a side bonus rather than the central issue, is very much the movie's central pleasure. The pair of them personify not just very different lifestyles, but very different acting styles, Irons very affected, very artificial, very self-aware, very Oscar Wilde or Noel Coward, and Silver very hot-blooded, very naturalistic, very Clifford Odets or Arthur Miller. If they often seem to be playing in separate movies, it's all to the benefit of this one. Written by Nicholas Kazan; directed by Barbet Schroeder. (1990) — Duncan Shepherd
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