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The Judge: A Robert Duvall Masterclass

“Look around you. You're standing in one of the last great cathedrals in this country, built on the premise that you and you alone are responsible for the consequences of your actions.” - Robert Duvall as Judge Joseph Palmer


When legends of the screen die, as fans we naturally take a look back at their body of work. We remember the greatness. We recall the authenticity. We mourn what will never be. Although ninety-five years old, Robert Duvall’s presence on the silver screen will be greatly missed. But instead of grieving what will never be, I wanted to celebrate his amazing work – specifically one of my personal favorites among his incredible body of work, 2014’s The Judge. 



As a film critic, I will be the first to admit that many in this line of work can be quite pretentious and, for unknown reasons, act proud of their rigid, unflinching ability to acknowledge any good that a film might possess. They seem to take pride in belittling someone else’s work. I wish I could say I’m speaking about others and I am, but I can’t recall all of my reviews over the decade plus I’ve been doing this. There might be some reviews where I committed this very act of feigned superiority. I am trying to be better than that though. I bring this up because in 2014, the critics got it wrong. Flatout, straight up, no bullshit. Got. It. Wrong. And maybe this right here is that very thing I speak of.


They called The Judge a cliché. It’s “melodramatic” and “overly sentimental.” They say that its familiarity is a hindrance. A movie of mediocre storytelling they exclaimed. I saw one review say that the moments in the courtroom are great but are few and far between when interrupted by dull familial drama outside of the courthouse. And everyone of course is entitled to their opinions, even if those opinions are wrong. Yeah I said it. 


I see it in a very different light. I see a drama about strained family dynamics facing the unforgiving nature of time. It is limited and unexpectedly fragile. And yet as human beings we toy with time as if it’s boundless. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, it is virtually endless but from the perspective of the human race, it’s a hundred years if you’re lucky. We let infighting separate us through distance and time with the unrealistic thinking that “there’s always time.” Until there isn’t. A parent dies. In the case of The Judge, the Palmer family matriarch dies tending to her garden. The last remaining tie that bound a strained family together was now severed. What was left behind was a myriad of unspoken resentment simmering and waiting for the boil over. I found the behavior of this man, Hank Palmer (Robert Downey Jr.) to be abrasive and unnecessarily condescending. He is arrogant and manipulative of both the law and those beholden to it. He comes off as someone who went from an idealist who upholds the law to someone who only bends it where it benefits him however dishonorable it may be. He has lost his way. 



It makes you wonder how someone could end up this way. Then he gets a life changing phone call. And suddenly the past he has so desperately tried to forever distance himself from comes roaring back with an unforgiving kind of bluntness. And thus begins the journey of learning why Hank Palmer is the way he is. This isn’t to say his behavior is acceptable as an arrogant asshole to practically everyone he encounters but it’s a window into the reasoning which by extension is a way of understanding him and why he is so aggressively and actively unlikable. 


This is when we meet the Palmer family. A concoction of well-meaning, ill-conceived, emotionally stunted group of men who loved their mother, fear(ed) their father, and loathe any semblance of loving affection. Again, how can anyone end up this way? That’s when Hank walks into the courtroom in the township of Carlinville, Indiana. There he sees his father, renowned and detested Judge Joseph Palmer. A man who sees himself as firm but fair with zero tolerance for insolence or rather what he perceives as insolence. It isn’t long before you start to see the parallels between father and son as you see a man, forty years in his position, dole out rulings with a sternness that can only be described as disquieting and unpleasant. 



Rather than wisdom as a long standing public servant, he only emits insensitivity and spite. It’s as if he takes every show of disrespect and unleashes on every future case he oversees. He is an embittered, curmudgeon who seems hellbent on attacking anyone in his line of sight. But as we discover early on, Hank is the way he is because of his father so it makes you wonder what the underlying reasons are for the judge to act the way he does. There is often more to a story than what’s on the surface. Again, not to justify, but simply understand. 


I am both enamored and infuriated by their father/son relationship that is largely confrontational but despite their best efforts, in the cracks emerges a begrudging loyalty and a repressed devotion. To be in the room with the both of them is to be in a bag with a rabid raccoon. But in the quieter moments, in the moments when they look back on the good in their past, they find a modicum of respect and admiration for one another. 


There is a desire there to find common ground and to reconnect but transgressions of the past are so looming and overwhelming it drowns the ability to reconcile for two men who would never admit to it, but are so much alike. It’s tragic because their differences already kept Hank away from everyone, including his own beloved mother who never got to meet her own granddaughter. And now even her death isn’t enough to bridge what has become a massive chasm of resentment and maybe even outright hatred. Still, when tragedy turns into a criminal act, their loyalty brings them together, kicking and screaming, but side by side nonetheless.



In my opinion, the critics ignored the connective tissue between an estranged father and son and the severity of manslaughter, potentially full blown murder. Particularly that it’s addressed in a place where only fact can exist and scrutiny is imperative. The courtroom is the surrogate for the family dinner table. Here is where their internal turmoil and rules are studied by the outside world. 


Their history emerges throughout the trial and ultimately drives the direction and outcome of what is a microcosm of this tattered and angry family. It also serves as a place where neither can escape. They must face themselves as well as each other. But in this inescapable place, they unexpectedly find catharsis. In their daily lives it becomes about emotions and outyelling the other person. In the courtroom, decorum is absolute and so on their best behavior, something amazing comes forth in place of the seemingly insatiable bitterness. This leads to their ultimate resolution on a tiny fishing boat in the middle of a pristine lake where they not only find common ground, but a mutual respect as well as an ability to acknowledge their immense love for one another, that was buried but never dead, simply in need of being exhumed. It’s catharsis for these characters as well as us. After so much trauma, both characters and audience alike are in need of something hopeful, even if it ends up as bittersweet only moments later. 



I can admit the movie has a tendency for embellishing the drama as if trying to extract tears from its audience. But it’s the relationships, and the impeccable acting that fleshes out these character dynamics, that takes this movie to a place of reverence for both family and cinema itself. 


Robert Downey Jr. initially demonstrates his familiar character traits of egotistical, cocky, and cynical. He resents his clients, the opposing prosecutor, his soon-to-be ex-wife, and the family he has fiercely kept away for years. Beyond his own daughter, he hasn’t a friend in the world. 


In a brief tangent – in the movie Edge of Tomorrow, Tom Cruise displays an unexpected trait in the start of the movie. So often we’re used to seeing him as the unwavering hero come to save the day. In Edge of Tomorrow, he is a coward and the character’s journey from pathetic to heroic is endlessly fascinating. For RDJ, we’ve seen the cockiness in his past performances. The most iconic of which is inarguably, Tony Stark. But to see him become humbled and tender, which he finds in The Judge through those he once most detested, is beautiful character development and healing for anyone that has estranged family members. He goes from slick suits to tattered Metallica shirts symbolizing his transformation from begrudging lawyer to loving father, devoted son, and fiercely loyal brother. He is a revelation as Hank Palmer. 



As for Judge Joseph Palmer, Robert Duvall is complex and heartbreaking and manages to still somehow be endearing despite his character’s unwillingness to be anything but mean and abrasive. Like the relationship between father and son, within the man himself emerges glimpses of a loving father and husband who only wants the best for his family. Duvall can be all at once belligerent and amicable with absolute conviction to his character and the authenticity he demands of it. He shines as the judge who is angry but is also suffering. 


Whether it is the loss of his beloved wife, the re-emergence of past cases come to haunt him, combative familial relationships or the immensity of his own mortality, as Judge Palmer, Duvall is tragic and intimidating, frustratingly so, and despite his offputting nature, he is loving in his own confusing way. He creates an environment of resentment but in a way that I think is all through the talent of Duvall, still leaves the door open for catharsis and a desire to fight the strong urge to simply leave it all behind. Duvall is mean as Judge Palmer. He is the living embodiment of a grumply old man. And yet, you want him to find happiness again, even in the wake of his wife’s death and his cancer diagnosis and the sons he pushes away. It’s a clash of similar personalities that want to heal but simply can’t get out of their own way. 


It is a traffic jam of the past, present, and lack of time ahead of them, that is fueling so much pain for these characters and their performances, particularly Robert Duvall, are transcendent. 



You take all of this beauty in the tragedies and emotional upheavals that are performed to perfection, and add to it wonderful cinematography and a heartwrenching musical score and you have the ingredients for something truly inspiring. Despite what the cynics say. The Judge is a dramatic family tragedy that is ripe for repeat viewing as a form of emotional release, welcome healing, and a chance to watch one of the greats do what he did best and that was to convince us that his characters were real and filled with their own hopes, dreams, anxieties, goals, and relationships. He was a master of his craft and The Judge is only one example of what Robert Duvall was really capable of as a judge or a cowboy or the consigliere of a crime family – he was one of a kind. He will be remembered. He will be missed. But his legacy will carry on forever. Thanks for everything, Bob.


Check out the trailer below:


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