WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION: Blu-ray reissue (Edward Small/United Artists, 1957) Kino Lorber

As an exercise in delicately concocted stagecraft, owing to the métier of celebrated mystery writer, Agatha Christie and her singularly plotted courtroom melodrama of the same name, director, Billy Wilder’s Witness for the Prosecution (1957) proves an appetizing plat du jour for the movie screen, imbued with all the good taste, elegance, humor and big-time star power of a grandly amusing war horse trundled out for the umpteenth time, yet remarkably resilient despite its abject familiarity. Whether kudos belong to Wilder, for this exemplar of evenly paced drama and suspense, or to the vitriolic histrionics of Charles Laughton and Elsa Lanchester (marrieds in real life) cast as antagonistically delicious barrister, Sir Wilfrid Robart and his obsessively devoted nurse, Miss Plimsoll), the results are a first-rate, adroit and a compelling slice of the procedural ‘whodunit’, permeated with all the sublime production value producers, Arthur Hornblower and Edward Small can muster. Some 66 years on, it just is that good! Impossible, perhaps, to assess what will or will not endure with the passage of the years. But when something does, it transcends mere entertainment to become art. And Witness for the Prosecution is most assuredly art.

Agatha Christie’s artistry is decidedly found in the ingeniousness of her razor wit and expert construction. This translates exceedingly well to the stage where transitions between scenes are minimal or achieved with limited alterations to painted backdrops. Movies, however, are expected to…well…move. Thus, in assuming a highly literal translation of Christie’s distinguished and long-running masterpiece, Wilder and co-writer, Harry Kurnitz have assumed a monumental and fairly daunting task to maintain the integrity in that original craftsmanship, while offering audiences something more visually compelling to offset the static nature of the piece. Miraculously, this trick is carried off to near perfection. Wilder gives us a consummate facsimile to satisfy both the popcorn muncher and Christie purist who have come to experience ‘Aggie’ in all her literate glory.

The biggest selling feature here is the cast. The aforementioned Laughton headlines a roster of superior talents. Tyrone Power, in his last screen appearance is a deliciously devious and enterprising, Leonard Vole; Marlene Dietrich, ravishingly seductive as his retired cabaret-singer/wife, Christine. Henry Daniell, at long last retired from chronically playing the ruthless usurper, gets made over as a sympathetically careworn attorney, Mayhew. John Williams, as Laughton’s right hand, Brogan-Moore, and Norma Varden and Una O’Connor, respectively play victim of the crime, Mrs. Emily Jane French and her nattering housemaid, Janet.  Witness for the Prosecution would be nothing without these iconic character actors bringing their very best to each and every moment of the script.  The stars, as well as the Wilder/Kurnitz screenplay vacillate in Christie’s rich tapestry of dialogue, their finely wrought exchanges crackling with considerable potency.

The joy here derives from the brilliant execution of the piece. None of it seems to drag - not even Wilder’s insertion of two flashbacks – neither indigenous to Christie’s short story nor the play – but wholly concocted for this movie, simply to afford Dietrich an opportunity to show off her much-celebrated legs and sing the infectious little ditty, ‘I May Never Come Home Anymore’. Come on, join the party? Indeed! There is, of course, much praise to be lavished on Dietrich’s inimitable and awe-inspiring star quality. It commands our attention with an almost hypnotic assurance. And that intangible nature of what makes Dietrich a star is even more self-evident when one considers just how second-rate she remains as a singer - for which, in spite of this dearth, she is also well-regarded and even more justly lionized by her legions of fans. The making of a star is elusive. Many go through Hollywood’s gristmill with dreams of becoming a legend. Yet, only a handful survived this trial by fire. And stars know their merits in egos offering up something worthy to emulate and admire. Better still, Wilder’s even-keeled pace, he all but sashays about the material, ensures there is never a monotonous or insignificant, fanny-twitching moment in the entire movie.

Witness for the Prosecution is an ensemble piece. And yet, almost from the outset, its success rests with moon-faced and jowly Charles Laughton, an ancient, yet properly cured ham who infuses Sir Wilfrid with a rich and varied veneer of caustic humor and rank cynicism. When Laughton speaks, he knows precisely where to punctuate his dialogue and where such bravura is best held back, affording the other talents basking in his afterglow to take the bar, already set very high – elevating the caliber of their collaborative work. Laughton’s brittle barrister is a joy to observe, despite Sir Wilfred's cruel verbal abuse of Nurse Plimsoll. Jaded and plotting, Laughton’s Sir Wilfred is, as Plimsoll suggests “the fox” – his cunning matched only by his hyper-cynicism towards authority figures. Plimsoll outranked Sir Wilfred in hospital. But Laughton’s Wilfred, having escaped its confines, now firmly intends to show her who's boss.  Laughton was Oscar-nominated for this spellbinding performance. Almost forgivably, he lost to Alec Guinness for The Bridge on the River Kwai.

In Laughton’s wake there are many in competition, even more remarkably, no casualties among the principal cast. Everyone manages to reach a personal best. Tyrone Power, in particular, distinguishes himself; Power, walking the gauntlet as the villain of the piece for only the second time in his career, the first, 1947’s Nightmare Alley (today considered an exemplar of the noir, yet a horrendous flop when it premiered).  At the age of 43, Power has decidedly transgressed from that studio-sanctioned image as the pretty boy/stud/heartthrob we formerly recall from his tenure at 2oth Century-Fox. Nor is he – wisely, even making any attempt to rekindle this memory in Witness for the Prosecution. Instead, he brings a sort of compelling venom to the Lothario gone to seed. Leonard Vole is a failed lady's man, turned notorious con, fallen on very hard times, reduced to placating widows like Mrs. Emily French for the crumbs cast from her table.

Power’s shtick with his latest invention, an eggbeater that creams and separates the yolk from the whites, proves enough to entice Mrs. French into becoming his…um…friend, though arguably not enough to get the old beef to cut him a check for his expenses or, perhaps, convince her of his romantic intentions, which are ‘hardly’ honorable. No, Mrs. French is just a means to an end. Alas, Emily’s untimely demise, discovered strangled on the floor of her front parlor, leads her careworn housemaid, Janet to accuse Leonard of the crime of murder. Ah, but did Leonard Vole actually murder Emily French? Sir Wilfrid does not seem to think so, relying on ‘first impressions’, and his considerable powers of deduction; also, by casting a glare off refracted light from his monocle into Leonard’s eyes – the windows to his soul. It’s a clever approach for separating liars from the seekers of truth, though it succeeds only in fooling Sir Wilfrid. For Leonard Vole is guilty as charged.

The other pivotal performance in Witness for the Prosecution is owed Dietrich as Leonard’s sinfully attractive, though queerly dispassionate German wife, Christine. As the caliber of Dietrich’s name above the title commands, we first meet Christine ahead of her debut in the original Christie stagecraft, now expedited to a WWII flashback; a seedy basement cabaret where Leonard is immediately attracted to Christine’s obvious charm. As suitors go, Len’ remains impartial while the tomcatting G.I.’s, homesick, heartsore and much worse for the wine and schnapps, attempt to grope a concertina-toting Christine. It’s a fairly unimpressive introduction for Dietrich, appearing in her trademarked affinity for men’s attire, warbling a few panged bars of Ralph Arthur Roberts/Jack Brooks’ bittersweet and bouncy dirge. Wilder cannot resist to have one of the leering officers tear at Dietrich’s pant, exposing her supple bare limb up to the thigh. This, it seems, is enough to incite a riot. Far from chivalry, Leonard slips out unnoticed as the military police invade to arrest the barroom brawlers. He returns only after the deluge has passed. In retrospect, Dietrich’s intro is far more telling of Leonard Vole’s ambitions than Christine’s - his attraction to her not swayed by passion, but rather coyly dictated with enterprising self-interests to take what he desires without getting all mussed. Leonard is a cunning man. In short order, Christine becomes his lover, then wife. But the couple discovers a mutual and more insidious interest in Leonard’s obvious talents for lightening the purses of unsuspecting middle-aged women. Only later do we also learn of the toll this takes on Christine. Her contempt for him is appropriately marked in the movie’s climax, plunging a knife into this lifelong horror, demarcated by insane bitterness and jealousy. 

Interestingly, in Christie’s original short story, Leonard Vole is liberated from the gallows with an exoneration of the crime of murder and allowed to depart the courtroom with his wife (called Romaine in the book) free, seemingly to pursue other hapless victims. Christie, who was not above recognizing a literary faux pas, as she had committed it, later endeavored to rectify this unsatisfactory conclusion, appealing to the more traditional ‘crime does not pay’ scenario. Except for this, and, one other flashback, illustrating Leonard and Emily’s ‘cute meet’ (he, as a casual passerby, instructing her on the purchase of a ridiculous bonnet, leading to an invitation to sup under Janet’s watchful eye), Witness for the Prosecution is limited to two sets, superbly designed by Alexandre Trauner: Sir Wilfrid’s lavishly appointed, yet cozy barrister’s chambers/private living quarters, complete with a mechanized chair lift, and, a meticulous recreation of the famed Old Bailey courtroom.      

Witness for the Prosecution opens with the arrival of London barrister, Sir Wilfrid Robarts, after his near-fatal heart attack and lengthy hospital stay. He is met at the office by his ever-devoted man servant, Carter (Ian Wolfe) and tearfully ‘happy to see him’ private secretary, Miss O’Brien (Marjorie Eaton). Sir Wilfrid, however, is hardly the warm-hearted type. In fact, he is rather dismissive of their kindnesses, if eager to resume his practice and old habits precisely where he left off, much to the nattering chagrin of his meddlesome nursemaid, Miss Plimsoll, whom Sir Wilfrid begrudgingly references as ‘the old blabbermouth’. While in hospital, Sir Wilfrid’s doctors, his staff and Plimsoll have conspired to lighten his case load, lining up modest briefs with attractive fees. This nanny-fication of the gregarious Wilfrid triggers caustic outrage. Yet, a ray of light there still may be when old friend and solicitor, Mayhew arrives with a tempting prospect: to act as Leonard Vole’s defense. Given the Damocles dangling overhead, Sir Wilfrid is perplexed by Leonard’s breezy confidence as he outlines in great detail his ‘accidental’ befriending of Mrs. French. He also suggests to be a happily married man.

Leonard makes no apology for having befriended Emily French, even less to contradict his hopes she would finance his eggbeater. Len’ then feigns total surprise upon discovering the late Mrs. French has left him a considerable dowry of £80,000 in her will. Nevertheless, on doctor’s orders, Sir Wilfrid turns down the case, referring Mayhew to Brogan-Moore, whom he holds in very high esteem. Moments later, Leonard is arrested by police. Brogan-Moore confides in Sir Wilfred, that he is not at all convinced of his client’s innocence, suggesting perhaps Vole is using Christine as his alibi. This confidence seems to bear out after Christine makes an impromptu visit to Sir Wilfrid’s. Her cool detachment ruffling Sir Wilfred’s feathers. Although she facetiously confirms Leonard’s story, she also insinuates her husband’s alibi has been well rehearsed. Appalled by Christine’s matter-of-fact recitation of the facts, Sir Wilfrid becomes more stubbornly determined than ever to unearth the truth. Moreover, Christine’s deceptive nature has confirmed Sir Wilfrid’s faith in Leonard’s innocence. Clearly, this woman has something awful to hide, perhaps even far more nefarious to gain if Leonard is hanged.

Brogan-Moore prematurely concludes the case is hopeless. But Sir Wilfrid will not be dissuaded. Instead, he dives headstrong into preparing Leonard’s defense. At every possible turn, Sir Wilfrid’s faith in Leonard is emphatically tested - first, by an affidavit signed by Mrs. French’s housekeeper, Janet McKenzie, swearing to Leonard’s amorous manipulations and how they directly led to Mrs. French drafting a new will – ergo, Leonard had prior knowledge about his inheritance in the event of Emily’s death. Still, Leonard has a calm and calculated answer for everything. No – he knew absolutely nothing of the changes to the will. And no – the spurious cut sustained on his finger did not come from his struggling to kill Emily; rather, the result of his lackadaisically slicing through a loaf of bread.

It all sounds right to Sir Wilfrid, who momentarily falls ill and is forced to withdraw from the opening statements made at trial.  His spontaneous recovery is met with staunch defiance, also, an entrenched impatience not to fail his client. Sir Wilfrid arrives at court with a flask of brandy, lying to Miss Plimsoll that it is cocoa. As the prosecution, headed by Mr. Myers (Torin Thatcher) bears down, Sir Wilfrid slyly pokes holes in Myers’ alternate theories of the crime. From the gallery, Miss Plimsoll takes notice of a young woman quietly observing the proceedings with intense interest. The trial continues with damning testimony given by several witnesses, including Janet, whom Sir Wilfrid discredits as being hard of hearing, also by revealing she had been the sole beneficiary to Emily French’s estate prior to Leonard Vole’s romantic dalliances with the widow. Hence, in insisting upon Leonard’s guilt now, presumably from having heard voices and a struggle through a heavy wooden door, Janet is presumably still plotting to gain access to the late Mrs. French’s money by seeing Leonard hanged for a crime he did not commit.

The crown calls Christine to the witness stand. It’s a slam dunk. Or is it? For Christine all but convicts her husband by breaking down and revealing that she lied at Leonard’s behest about the hour he came home on the night of the murder. The crown rests with complete confidence. Sir Wilfrid now calls his only witness, Leonard, who steadfastly pleads innocence.  However, under cross-examination, Mr. Myers gets Leonard to admit he and an unidentified woman were seen at a nearby travel shop picking up brochures for a cruise on the day Emily French was murdered. Leonard insists he was harmlessly perusing the racks when the woman approached him. They were not a couple nor even friends, but actually having met by chance at the travel shop. That night, Sir Wilfrid wagers the trial is not going according to plan. Leonard may very well hang. Distressed, Sir Wilfrid’s spirits prick up when he receives a mysterious telephone call from an unnamed cockney guttersnipe, insisting she knows the real scandal behind Christine Vole’s Teflon-coated façade and encouraging Sir Wilfrid to meet at Euston Station. There, the woman offers Sir Wilfrid proof of Christine’s own infidelity, letters reportedly written to a lover named Max. Although Sir Wilfrid is intrigued, he is as reticent to put forth uncorroborated evidence at trial. Alas, the guttersnipe vanishes into the night. Against his better judgment, Sir Wilfrid interrupts his own closing arguments to recall Christine to the stand for further testimony. He puts to her the question of an illicit romance. Presumably under duress, she crumbles and confesses. Armed with this salacious revelation, the jury quickly returns a verdict of ‘not guilty’. Alas, their hasty exoneration gnaws at Sir Wilfrid.  Now, he decides to casually confront Christine who playfully confides her testimony was the truth, not because Leonard is innocent, but rather because she already knew he was guilty.

Christine assumes the cockney accent of the guttersnipe, revealing how Wilfred has been had. As the ramifications sink in, Leonard saunters as the proud peacock who knew his wife would never let him down. Miss Plimsoll appears with a girl from the gallery – Diana (Ruta Lee) who throws herself at Leonard’s head, claiming herself to have been his lover for some time. Leonard callously explains to his disbelieving wife, he always considered Christine’s perjury as payback for his getting her out of Germany during the war. They’re even now, and he wants absolutely nothing more to do with her. His future is with Diana. Viciously stung by the specter of jealousy, Christine grabs the murder weapon from the property table and plunges it into Leonard’s back. Guards rush in and apprehend Christine. Miss Plimsoll kneels close to assess the damage. “She’s killed him.” Plimsoll declares. “She’s executed him,” Sir Wilfrid clarifies, already contemplating the prospect of taking on the case against Christine Vole.  As Sir Wilfrid and Miss Plimsoll prepare to leave, she quietly asks Carter to cancel their Bermuda respite - a promise earlier made by Sir Wilfrid, pending the outcome of Leonard’s trial. Miss Plimsoll casually hands Sir Wilfrid his powder wig, reminding him not to forget his flask of brandy.

Witness for the Prosecution is charged with a weathervane of dramatic electricity almost from the first scene to its last. It is a movie of such exquisitely crafted performances and clever shifts in mood sustained by Billy Wilder’s evenly paced direction, that it completely sustains our admiration as a truly inspired work of cinema art.  By Wilder’s erudite and keenly honed standards, this one ought to have come across as old-fashioned. If so, then in the very best tradition of a Christie whodunit? and grandly amusing English theater. Replete with double entendre and an air of Euro-sophistication for which Wilder is justly renown, Witness for the Prosecution remains an undeniably enveloping and high-spirited courtroom drama. Reportedly, Wilder concealed the ending of his movie even to his cast until the very last day of the shoot. Today, it is difficult, if not impossible to find anyone who does not know how it will all turn out in the end. But the verdict isn’t really the point of this piece, or even this exercise in celluloid melodrama. Instead, Wilder never lets us forget Witness for the Prosecution as a hallmark in craftsmanship on two fronts – first, as Christie’s justly celebrated tale and stagecraft, and second, as another high-water mark in Wilder’s own canon of classic cinema storytelling.

Witness for the Prosecution has been reissued on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber. Were that this was a ‘new’ 4K remastering effort. Alas, no. It is a reprocessed 1080p with an expanded bit rate. This allows for black levels to breath a bit more. They are, in fact, ever-so-slightly richer than before. But comparatively, little has changed between the original Blu from Kino in 2014 and this ‘remastered’ edition. The B&W image was always solid and remains so here. Russell Harlan’s cinematography shines. There is much fine detail to appreciate. Minute age-related artifacts, present in the original Blu, survive here. They are never distracting. The DTS 2.0 mono soundtrack has been upgraded from 16 to 24 bit. Does this really mean anything? Sonically, no.  Our ears still hear a well-represented mono mix of a dialogue-driven movie with limitations in the original recording techniques. To validate this reissue, Kino has added an audio commentary from Wilder biographer and film historian, Joseph McBride, who meanders through his vast knowledge of Wilder’s legacy and this movie’s importance within it. Ported over from the previous disc, a 7-minute video piece with director, Volker Schlöndorff from 2006 in German with English subtitles, and, a badly worn 3-minute trailer. Bottom line: Witness for the Prosecution is brilliant, peerless and wholly satisfying. The Blu? Not perfect, and recommended only if you do not own Kino’s previous release.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

2