The Devil-s Advocate -

There is a moment, about two-thirds of the way through Taylor Hackford’s The Devil’s Advocate , where Al Pacino—corporate Satan, Manhattan real-estate mogul, and part-time father figure—turns to the camera and delivers a monologue about God’s greatest mistake: giving humanity free will. It is a symphony of ham, spit, and terrifying sincerity. For five minutes, the film achieves a kind of operatic madness. Then it remembers it has a plot to resolve, and the spell shatters.

The Devil’s Advocate is not a great film. It is too long, too self-indulgent, and too reliant on Pacino’s volcanic tics (his Satan is basically a gay S&M club owner who quotes Milton—the poet, not the character). But it is an unforgettable one. It works best as a fable for the legal profession and the 1990s culture of unchecked ambition. Watch it for Theron’s agony. Watch it for Pacino’s monologue about “the pressure of the human ego.” Watch it for the sheer audacity of a studio film that tries to wrestle with God, the devil, and billable hours in a single runtime. The Devil-s Advocate

Just do not expect a clean verdict. In this court, everyone is guilty. And the judge is having way too much fun. There is a moment, about two-thirds of the

The premise is delicious. Kevin Lomax (Keanu Reeves), a small-time Florida defense attorney with a perfect record, is recruited by the enigmatic John Milton (Pacino) to a white-shoe New York firm. The firm is a cathedral of marble, ego, and billable hours. Kevin wins cases not through evidence, but through charisma and the manipulation of reasonable doubt—a skill Milton adores. Soon, Kevin is defending a real estate mogul (a wonderfully reptilian Craig T. Nelson) accused of a brutal murder. The catch? Kevin’s wife, Mary Ann (Charlize Theron, heartbreaking), is losing her mind, tormented by visions of demonic violation. Then it remembers it has a plot to