Same here. I don't think even Welles himself would tell you every performance he ever gave was uniformly great, but in this film, we'll start with the content of that closing argument as absolutely stunning. As for the delivery, I'm not sure what problem the OP and others have with it, other than calling it "bad" and "hammy" over and over. I wonder whether any of them have ever seen a high-profile lawyer doing a closing like this one. There is nearly always a theatrical element to it. It is not natural speech. It is "artificial" in the denotative sense of that word. It is constructed for a purpose. I thought Welles' demeanor and delivery were about right for the argument.
And not only for closing argument really, but for his whole offhanded portrayal of the attorney, which is much more realistic than the standard screen portrayal of the lawyer brought in to defend or prosecute the main characters in a film, in which that lawyer acts like his (or her, ff. too) life depends on the case, like this is the only client he's ever had, like he has a fervent personal belief rather than maybe a modicum of belief in some proportion with the sometimes mundane need to do a professional service he has done many times before. Welles' character acts like he's seen it all before, which he has. It isn't boredom, really, although it looks a little like it, which is why the beauty of the final argument takes you by surprise. It's more like a kind of mild professional jadedness and detachment, which is characteristic of experienced attorneys, who can't live and die with every case. (Even here, the character ends up not so much advocating for these two murderers personally, but rather his fervency and eloquence is put to use in advocating for a more evolved system of justice that doesn't kill people -- not trying to start that argument up here, I'm just saying that's what the character is after; he is not particularly attached to the specific defendants.) If the families fire him, there'll be another case next week, as there has always been for the past four decades. Not very many attorney characters get this right, but Welles does, and not only in demeanor but also in strategy and tactics.
I always wonder, when somebody criticizes the acting in an older film like this, whether they're applying modern criteria to the assessment. I think, or hope, it's generally understood that acting in general used to be more theatrical and frequently came off as melodrama, even in stories where it didn't seem particularly appropriate. I mean, if you want hammy and melodramatic, let's try Bradford Dillman, particularly early in this film. Man.
I actually was thinking, as the film went on with no sign of Welles other than his top billing in the opening credits, and then as he showed up about two-thirds of the way through, that this was going to be a case of huge ego and name value glommed onto a phoned-in performance. That was until I realized what he was doing with the character. And then came that really moving final argument. I'm fine with calling bad performances from highly-touted actors exactly what they are -- in fact, I'm kind of enthusiastic about it, because it strikes me as both a duty and a service -- but this isn't one of them.
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