Roman J. Israel, Esq. was only in theaters briefly, and everyone loves Denzel Washington so that was a sign that it wasn’t his usual quality film. Only he got nominated for an Oscar, which was another portent. The previews repelled me and correctly signaled aspects of the movie that I would not like. When Netflix sent me the DVD on February 12, it took me over two months to actually watch it, and when I finally did, 2 hours 10 minutes dragged on for the entire evening.
Roman J. Israel, Esq. isn’t a good movie even though it contains strands of good ideas that if taken individually would have been masterpieces: becoming obsolete in your chosen profession because of age, mental disabilities acting as an obstacle to success, whether or not a life devoted to service will be its own reward or ultimately lead to regret over missed opportunities of personal joy, whether or not it is more important to be smart and principled rather than socially appropriate and accepted. In the end, the veneer of meaning and respectability is chucked for a conventional crime drama in which the titular character gets caught up in his client’s mess.
Besides needing to be streamlined, Roman J. Israel, Esq. suffers from two major narrative problems: the how we got here trope by beginning with a scene that appears again later in the film, and the 24 problem—so many implausible things happened in the course of three weeks. The filmmakers do not understand basic aspects of practicing law and selling out. Just because you want to sell out, does not mean that the person holding the money wants to buy what you’re selling. Side note: I don’t care what anyone tells you, pro bono hours do not count the same as billable hours.
Also if you watch the film, he is not actually a good lawyer. The dialogue in Roman J. Israel, Esq. does not sound legal. It sounds like someone who does not know anything about the law, but instead of hiring someone who does, read Black’s Law Dictionary then started using the words without understanding the definitions. “Force the prosecution.” Um, do you mean discovery? There is discussion of class action as a revolutionary protest, but if my life depended on it, I could not tell you what he was trying to do. Season 4 of How To Get Away with Murder wore it better.
If you have a mental disability that affects your social conduct, you would not know how to fix it and become socially acceptable. The titular character transforms into Denzel Washington by the middle of the film. Also the way that the titular character veers wildly from financially destitute to balling like crazy makes no mathematical sense even according to what is explicitly said during the course of the movie. How are you broke and desperate for a job so quickly? It has not even been a month yet-rent isn’t due. Then why are you so desperate for money after you got employed and are making more money than you have in your life? You know that you don’t have to work for a firm to buy artisanal donuts. Turkey bacon isn’t real bacon. Isn’t Colin Farrell paying you? Then how did you only spend $5,547.27 during that lavish weekend? A lavish furnished rental apartment costs that alone. Didn’t they require a security deposit, first and last month’s rent?
Do not get me started with the names. Roman J. Israel hyper-consciously encapsulates the central dilemma of the film: the struggle to be righteous, Israel, or mercenary, Roman. “The real enemies aren’t on the outside. They’re within.” Does the J. stand for Jesus? The high stakes morality play could have worked, but it is so over the top that it fails to sustain credibility.
Roman J. Israel, Esq. has a woman problem. From the beginning to the end, women are placed in opposition to him: every guard, district attorney, secretary, the niece of his boss. It culminates when he is speaking at a National Assembly for Civil Rights, and a couple of women start cursing him out when he calls out men for not giving their seats up to women who are standing. I know that men think that feminists are like this, but does this actually happen? I’m a feminist, and most of my friends are feminists. Do you know how some people became feminists? Because our lives showed us that if you are waiting on men to do something for you, you’re going to be waiting for a long time so if I’m not getting the benefits of paternalism, there is no way that I’m going to accept the downsides like less pay, but if anyone, a man or a woman, offers me a seat or holds a door open for me, I thank them. I didn’t even know what to do when a man held my chair out for me. I about near died from shock. Thank you!
There is only one woman who reveres him because she understands that his hostility and air of superiority is a defense mechanism to preserve his dignity. She sees him as her ghost of Christmas future. Near the end of the film, woman are just asking Roman J. Israel, Esq. to not go, but don’t actually run after him. This film has an idea of what women are like, but fail to depict a three-dimensional one.
For all its ambition, Roman J. Israel, Esq. lets one storyline fall through the cracks—the idea of moral licensing. Farrell’s character is an effective mercenary who wants meaning so he buys it by hiring the titular character, but still exploits his clients and provides poor service for a lot of money. The movie takes this action at face value as a signal that his character is a good person who temporarily lost his way, but he is actually doing a token amount of good so he can later rationalize that he is a good person as he makes people mortgage their house so their loved one can get killed in prison while he enjoys box seats at the Staples Center. The titular character gets punished for his momentary transgression, and perhaps by allowing his moral high ground to be purchased, becomes the sacrificial lamb that takes all the punishment that his new boss deserved.
I have been desperate for someone to tell a story about a person who lived the way that he or she wanted to live, but instead of the fairy tale that we’re told, success and happiness did not follow. It is too late to backtrack, be someone else, want something else. How do you keep living or do you just commit suicide? Roman J. Israel, Esq. could have been that story, but it was too frightened of telling that story without fitting a sensational, conventional narrative. The film pulls punches, reassures us that it is not too late, reinvention is possible, happiness and certainty can be found either as a mercenary or a true believer, glory or death. It is a lie.