Lincoln Lawyer (2011)

Step into my office...

 Would you use an attorney who worked out of his car, even if he wore expensive suits, had a driver, and looked and talked like Matthew McConaughey?

In “The Lincoln Lawyer,” McConaughey plays Mick Haller, a slick L.A. attorney, whose many cases take him from one courthouse and jail to the next, all over town. Thus, his Town Car is his office (hence “Lincoln” lawyer; get it?).

While visiting a client in lock-up, Haller receives a tip from a bail=bondsman friend that a rich kid named Louis Roulet (Ryan Phillippe, alternately seething with menace, and pleading his innocence) has just been arrested for violently assaulting a pretty, young women in her apartment. The kid vehemently denies the charges, and wants his day in court. Quickly Haller recognizes the opportunity for a lucrative pay day.

The guts of the film are mostly boiler plate: We get courtroom dealings in the middle, with attorneys bandying possible pleas and outcomes, stuff we’ve seen a million times, in a million other films. Haller works his legal magic, trying to arrange the best possible deal for his client, all while struggling with doubt that perhaps Roulet is actually guilty. His fears escalate when he realizes evidence from an earlier murder case he settled eerily resembles the current one. Perhaps in hindsight, he sold his earlier client up the river too quickly?

Marissa Tomei is on hand as Maggie McPherson (sounds like a comic-book heroine), a fellow attorney, and Haller’s ex-wife. The two have a daughter, as well as lingering feelings for each other. When he gets drunk in bars, she’s conveniently his ride home (or back to her place). She wants him to be more responsible and straighten his life out, as understanding and forgiving ex-wives in movies are often wont to do.

William H. Macy, Josh Lucas, Michael Pena and John Leguizamo also make appearances, as a private investigator, prosecuting attorney, the incarcerated former client, and bail bondsman, respectively. “Breaking Bad’s” Bryan Cranston, as well as “Boardwalk Empire’s” Shea Whigham are pop up in minor roles, as does country singer Trace Adkins. The cast is estimable, perhaps beyond the story they inhabit.

As Haller, McConaughey is, as usual, very good. He’s believable as the fast-talking, deal-making, always-look-out-for-#1 counselor. McConaughey’s a pro, as comfortable, deft and nimble onscreen as the lawyer he plays is in the courtroom.

Alas, Phillippe’s accused Roulet (“Roulette?”), doesn’t fare as well. His performance is smug, over-the-top, and shows little subtlety or shading. Which in some ways might have been OK, since his character isn’t supposed to be likeable. Still, the film would’ve been more interesting had he seemed at least somewhat capable of displaying the entire range of human emotions, rather than simply malice, entitlement, and rage. We don’t like him, even if he’s not guilty. Roulet doesn’t seem three dimensional, possessing little more in the way of expression than avarice, selfishness, narcissism and a perpetual sneer. There’s little redeeming and “real” about him. He’s the stock “bad guy,” straight from Central Casting.

Much more than I’ve described happens in “Lincoln Lawyer;” I’ve left out many details, and indeed entire characters. But I think you get the gist. This is the kind of movie where, by about half way through, I was pretty sure I knew where it was headed. All that was left was seeing which hoops it jumped through along the way, in order to get there. A few unexpected twists and turns are thrown in. However, most of those felt contrived (one, in particular), the result of an over-eager writer’s imagination. They feel less rational and more necessary, steps that must be taken in order to get the plot its inevitable, tidy conclusion.

“Lincoln Lawyer” isn’t bad; it held my attention for its entire 118 minutes. Problem is, it didn’t make much of a lasting impression, either; I haven’t thought of it since. Even reflecting while writing this review, I wondered “exactly what happened, again?” It’s a lesser version of the type of John Grisham legal-suspense/dramas Hollywood used to churn out by the truckloads, about 20 or so years back (“The Firm” “Runaway Jury,” “A Time to Kill,” “Pelican Brief,” etc…) If you have a couple of hours to kill, you could certainly do worse. But you could do better, too.