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54 out of 61 people found the following comment useful :-
The Best Legal Drama or Paranoia Film Ever Made, 18 April 2004

Author: StudlyFoxie from Boston, Mass

Like most people, I've read Kafka. "The Trial" was one of the books I read for credit during high-school. I always thought it was a good book that did a great job depicting a reality based around a state of mind. While I liked the book and held it in high esteem compared to other literature I'd read, it couldn't prepare me for the incredible experience of Orson Welles's great adaptation "The Trial" ("Le Proces"). The man who once delivered the best movie ever made (in America) to a major studio made this masterpiece on almost no money and limited resources in two European countries with no sets.

Norman Bates himself, Anthony Perkins turns in a convincing performance as Joseph K. K awakes one morning to find the police in his apartment arresting him without taking him into custody or telling him what he's charged with. People come and go from the room with a creepy, unnatural ere that makes it all seem less real. Every aspect of K's life becomes warped as he realizes everyone expects him to behave differently but he isn't sure how and his attempts to correct himself get him deeper into trouble. He's lead to a secret meeting that turns out to be his hearing which turns out to be a mockery. K gets a lawyer, played by Welles himself (who has one of the best entrances in screen history here), but he turns out to more of a villain than a deliverance. Every woman K meets is attracted to him, presumably because he's accused. Our hero is a marked man who can't understand the game and is appalled by the rules. As K ventures deeper into the secrets of the mysterious legal system he becomes more and more convinced that he is doomed and for no reason at all. The movie builds to an astounding climax that fits the dream tone perfectly and surpasses any expectations.

"The Trial" is set in an unnamed country in a city composed of decaying industrial buildings, old factories, shady tenements, and empty streets. Welles filmed much of this in an abandoned train station in Paris and the ad-hoc location proves to be the perfect psychological landscape. Welles took Kafka's paranoia over the persecution of Jews and updated it to a post-war setting where the law is the enemy of every man, or as in this case, the everyman. This is no mere portrait of fascism or communism, but a condemnation of abuses of the law everywhere. The landscape is highly engaging, and some modern buildings are thrown in the mix, perhaps to remind the viewer that this could happen here in America, too. "The Trial" is one of the most memorable settings in screen history and Welles gives us a taste of its terrors from lofty heights to claustrophobic depths.

Welles always said that the dialogue was priority number one, and here every scrap of it is memorable. In spite of the spectacular lines, the visual style is awe inspiring and it's a bit shocking to consider that this was the end of production that Welles never planned. The look is very film noir, like a 50s detective picture, but darker, almost to the point of being horror. This movie runs on fear, but maintains dramatic pathos and a sense of humor that help it rise above other films with that intention. People call Welles's films "style over substance", but if you watch the opening bedroom scene, you'll agree that this film kept them in harmony.

Akim Tamiroff ("Ocean's 11") and Romy Schneider ("What's New Pussycat") shine in supporting roles as the lawyers subordinates, slaves who play inside the rules to save themselves. They help to flesh his out as not merely an adaptation of Kafka's work, but an expanded drama, brought to life with the skill of Shakespeare and a lens worthy of Hitchcock. This is more than a parable, it's a human drama that bathes in pure expressions of fear and depression.

"The Trial" is easily the best film of its year if not of that decade. It should be seen by fans of good film and by audiences in general "because tomorrow, or someday soon, it could happen to you!"

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44 out of 48 people found the following comment useful :-
Beautiful., 19 January 2004

Author: Chromium_5 from Minnesota

After reading some of the other user comments for this movie, I feel a bit out of my league. Unlike the other reviewers, I do not belong to Mensa, and I am not going to even TRY to show how this movie represents "social regimentation" or whatever.

Instead, I am simply going to say what I like best about it: the atmosphere. This is one of the most beautiful movies I have ever seen. Welles did a superb job of capturing an uneasy, nightmarish feeling. The camera angles and perspectives are perfect.

"The Trial" basically consists of scene after scene of surreal settings. We get to see endless rows of people working on typewriters, the inside of a crate while hundreds of eyes peer through the cracks, a labyrinth of tall bookshelves stacked with old law books, and tons of other dark surrealism that is amazing to look at.

As far as plot goes, Anthony Perkins is trapped in a corrupt judicial system, accused of an unspecified crime. He does a great job of making his character a paranoid wreck, and you can't help but feel paranoid yourself while watching the movie. Sometimes there is a spacious atmosphere, and other times it is extremely claustrophobic. And it is all perfectly done in black and white.

I highly recommend watching this, if only to look at the awesome sets. You will think you are in a nightmare yourself.

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45 out of 53 people found the following comment useful :-
The Most Visually Astounding and Utterly Disturbing Film, 29 April 2001
Author: findkeep from WASHINGTON

Never has any film reached down off its silver screen and shaken me as violently as did The Trial. I came out of my local art house quivering. Even now, as I write, I detect a hint of paranoia. I would go as far as to say Orson Welles' The Trial is the most frightening film I've ever beheld. Watching it for the first time it's safe to say I hated it. There were scenes that held me so close to the edge of madness, it was all I could do not to fly screaming out of the theater. Only afterwards, on the way home, did I realize that its ability to do so was what made the film so remarkable. Definitely a must see, but be forwarned.

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40 out of 47 people found the following comment useful :-
This is how you film a literary classic: not by toadying to it, but by assuming that you created it yourself., 18 August 1999

Author: Darragh O' Donoghue (hitch1899_@hotmail.com) from Dublin, Ireland

This is probably Welles' most complete masterpiece since CITIZEN KANE. Not that it's better than AMBERSONS or TOUCH OF EVIL, but there's a wholeness, a freedom from interference, a focusing of vision that's complete. It's also a relief to be able (for once)to enjoy a Welles performance from this period, rather than laughing with him at its crass silliness. Akim Tamiroff is (as ever) extraordinary, while Anthony Perkins captures the mixture of nervousness and arrogance central to Welles' K.

THE TRIAL is also a textbook lesson in how to film a classic text. While cinema thrives on the second-rate, transcending and enriching banality, it tends to founder when it appropriates the Great Works, due in part to the incompatibility of forms, but mostly because of pointless reverence. Why bother being completely faithful to, say, Howard's End, when we can read the book. Surely the only reasons to film a classic are to a)make it adaptable to film form; b)make it relevant to our age; or c)make it relevant to the director's sensibility.

Welles, on one level, is certainly faithful to Kafka's vision. We get a nightmare depiction of bureaucracy gone mad, of the increasing, unidentifiable totalitarianism of modern life, of the persecution of the individual, of the impossibility of rebellion and alternatives. The sense of labyrinth and nightmare, and a desolate world abandoned by God, is chillingly evoked in the film's astonishing visual framework, the hallucinatory set-pieces, the disorientating comedy, the bewildering logic. The knowledge that K.'s workplace was filmed in a disused railway station only adds to the film's complexity - this is a society cut off from other people, ideas, civilisations; one where there is no coming or going, no escape.

And yet Welles subverts all this. By removing Kafka's ambiguity, he makes the work more ambiguous. Unlike the book, Welles draws attention to the fact that this is a nightmare. K. begins the film getting dressed, and ends it stripping, the reverse process of going to sleep (i.e. to move plausibly back from the dream world to reality, K. has to return to the state that led to dream, unclothed in bed).

The suggestion that his adventures are a dream draws attention to the film's main theme - the dangers of solipsism. K. is a paranoid - because he sees the world only from his point of view, he feels that everyone is out to get him. His selfishness is subtly hinted at throughout the film, by his stated profession not to get involved with anything, to avoid problems, to avoid others' problems, to keep himself to himself, and get on. Of course, this means that no-one will help him, as he finds out throughout the film. And if everybody is indifferent to their neighbour, than no wonder people are burned in death camps. Wasn't that the excuse of 'ordinary' Germans after the war? 'We knew nothing about it'.

That's why well-fed K. with his privileged job, is greeted by a gaunt group of camp victims. Welles has to remould The Trial in the knowledge of the Final Solution. This is accomplished by parodying K.'s us vs. them outlook,k with a complex doubling pattern - private scenes bursting into mass activity; Dreyeresque austerity alternating with Wellesian baroque; a dynamic jazz score merging into Albinoni's tragic, apocalyptic, funereal Adagio.

Both readings aren't exclusive: they play off each other. Creating an appropriately Kafkaesque spiral of terror, the climactic scene - a classic Wellesian stand-off between K. and the Advocate (seemingly on his side, but really a playful collaborator), completes the dissolution of the individual. They are shown to be indistinguishable, mere shadows of men. I do not say that we fail to sympathise with K. - his light IS harrowing, but though his closing laugh can be interpreted as an admission of the Absurdity of the universe, it's a world made in his image.

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30 out of 35 people found the following comment useful :-
The Logic of a Nightmare, 16 January 2002

Author: Snazel from Seattle, WA

The story of The Trial is the story of displacement. The protagonist in the film Josef K, (played by Anthony Perkins), is seemingly from another world. His morality, conduct and philosophy contrast so sharply from the nightmare around him, that one wonders if he was transported to another universe while sleeping. As a result, Josef K has no survival skills in his environment and his adherence to a personal morale code that is totally alien to the world he lives in, consummates his destruction.

Josef K literally awakes in the first scene, to a nightmare that he cannot understand, because his own sense of justice refuses to let him understand it. This is Josef K's downfall. There are survivors in the world painted by this film, grim survivors to be sure, but survivors none the less. Josef K is not one of them.

Josef K, in the context that surrounds him in this film, is dysfunctional. He has neither the character nor the experience to survive in his world. He seems oblivious to the lunacy of his environment and strives for something so completely alien, that one wonders where and how he even conceived of his morale code, given the world he lives in.

This of course, leads to terrific drama and an odd tension for the viewer throughout the entire film. That tension springs from the dichotomy of the film, Josef K's idealism vs. the cruel reality all around him. Perhaps more specifically the tension arises from Josef K's struggle for logic and reason in a world gone haywire with paranoia and corruption.

One of the minor but important strengths of this film is the encapsulation of its theme within the 2-minute anecdote that starts the picture. This prologue uses stark drawings on a wheel to transition from scene to scene and is both a riddle and a parable. It is accompanied by a sinister cello and a deep, cold narration by Orson Welles. The anecdote in the prologue is a tale of a man who 'seeks admittance to the law'. The riddle that is laid before him ends in death and with the realization that the man wasted his life, seeking a universal truth, to a very personal question.

Much later in the film, the character of the Advocate tries to retell the chilling prologue to Josef K. Josef however, dismisses the fairy-tale immediately. Refusing to hear its lesson and how it applies to his predicament. The advocate rightly notes, from the prologue: 'it has been observed that the man came to the law of his own free will'. What I believe Orson Welles is telling us, in this scene, is he personally believes Josef K's character to be guilty. Josef is not guilty of a crime to be sure, but he is guilty in his conscience. Josef's wretched self-righteousness and guilt-complex is ugly, even within the context of all the injustice, corruption and abuse that surround him.

Josef is weak, stubborn and oblivious and I believe Orson tells us subtly, that perhaps he deserves to die. What is also left unsaid by the Advocate is the man in the prologue willingly submitted himself to the lunacy that became his death. The man felt it better to live chained to an ideal, that to roam free in an unjust world. If there is a crime Josef K is guilty of, then that is likely it.

I have never read the novel, but I believe Josef K, is a much more tragic figure in Kafka's eyes. In the eyes of Orson Welles - it's apparent to me that Orson Welles considers Josef K to be neither tragic nor overly heroic.

While it may contrast strikingly with Kafka's intention, I think Welles tries to illustrate somewhat that Josef K, is not a complete victim. While Josef's surroundings are nightmarish beyond belief, Josef never adapts to them. He never learns how to survive or worse, refuses to learn how to survive. He judges his world but he hardly ever truly interacts with it and he immediately becomes distracted whenever he feels someone has transgressed his moral view of things.

While the actions of Josef K are noble and we sympathize with his plight, you feel little remorse for his eventual death, because Josef quite simply just does not belong. Like the creature at the end of metamorphosis, an innocent thing, is perhaps best left to die, because it is alien to its environment.

Like all good work, that interpretation of mine is open to a lot of debate. Which is another great feature of this film, it provokes a reaction and that reaction can help you understand more about yourself and your current surroundings.

I think this is strong work. Orson Welles finds ways to delight your eyes on screen. Some of the performances like Romy Schneider's performance as the mistress of the Advocate are seductive and chilling.

It is interesting that women in this film are perverted, contorted and shallow. The perversion of society in Josef K's world is so pervasive that his own 16-year-old cousin cannot even visit him, without suspicion from his co-workers. Even sex and passion in this world is twisted into secrecy, innuendo and fear. The only true female survivors in this film are women who willingly cast themselves as supplicants to men of power and intrigue. While this message may affront those who are sensitive, it adds another element to the nightmare that makes this film so strong.

The film has a similar parallel to the Bicycle Thief in my opinion. The protagonist is sympathetic but is surrounded by injustice and cruelty that shreds his very existence. In both films, no amount of effort on the protagonist's behalf will solve his dilemma. Both characters struggle to come to terms with their tragic plight. Like Antonio, Josef K's quest is futile and his only salvation is acceptance. Unlike Antonio however, Josef K never truly transforms, he will not sink to the same level as the world around him. This is why we feel so sorry for Antonio at the end of the Bicycle Thief but see the Trial's ending as more inevitable than tragic.

It is sometimes hard to feel sorry for a martyr who wears his thorny crown so smugly. This is where the protagonist of Josef and Antonio (Bicycle Thief) depart. Josef willingly becomes a self-righteous martyr, while Antonio chooses life, even at the expense of his dignity.

The logic of this film is the logic of a dream and a nightmare. The Trial is a moral nightmare - a world where the only options for survival are: lies, hypocrisy and servitude. A sacrifice, Josef K, refuses to make and so his door closes, forever.

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26 out of 32 people found the following comment useful :-
Orson Welles's Best Movie, 1 March 2001

Author: (reader4)

When asked on the IMDb poll to enter the name of my favorite movie, I at first thought it an impossible task. Once this one entered my mind, though, the contest was over.

The lifetime masterpiece of a master of filmmaking, "The Trial" is Orson Welles's finest film, even surpassing "Touch of Evil." Somber, brooding, sometimes even claustrophobic, "The Trial" is a surrealistic safari through the worlds of law, employment and interpersonal relationships.

The melancholy strains of the artistically deployed Adagio by Albinoni underscore the mood of the film, shot mostly at twilight or indoors by night in a tangle of nightmarish sets that extend to infinity. Even scenes shot in broad daylight seem cold and devoid of nourishment in this cosmos of interminable, infinitesimal complexity which utterly lacks a heart.

Anthony Perkins (Joseph K.) is mass of contradictions, at once sympathetic, boyish, paranoid, angry, declamatory and most of all surpassingly frustrated by the futility of attempting to deal with a society that both demands mechanistic perfection of him and at the same time exhibits a persistent apathy toward his continued existence as well as a bureaucratic attempt to destroy it.

He seems inadvertently to hurt everyone with whom he comes in contact, ostensibly the cause of people getting thrown out of their dwellings, schools, jobs, marriages and other situations, all due to his benign actions which in any sane world would be completely unconnected with the tragedies they somehow appear to create. But in the Kafka/Welles society, they just lead to blame and further accusations. In his helplessness, his innocence and his utter bafflement, Perkins is thoroughly disarming.

Welles is positively diabolical as The Advocate, who, like everyone else connected with the Court, is not of any assistance or support to the accused. Rather, he seems to exist only to hurl vague accusations at Joseph K. - which the poor man is somehow expected to understand beforehand and even think are justified - and to exact payment for same.

Romy Schneider is outstanding as The Advocate's cook/housekeeper/nursemaid/concubine, the only person in the story who shows Joseph K. any genuine affection, odd though the form it takes may be. Other unforgettable and universally strange characters populate this odyssey into oblivion, such as the club-footed landlady doggedly dragging a trunk along an empty railroad track into the fading twilight while politely trying to refrain from telling Joseph K. how lowly she regards him.

The movie is fairly divergent from the book, which it inspired me to read. For example, the movie comes to a conclusion, while the unfinished book does not. In most ways, though, I find the movie more memorable, haunting and downright disturbing. Its skillfully crafted mesh of images and symbols which resonate at a level deeper than the conscious will find themselves recurring to the viewer unbidden for years to come.

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22 out of 29 people found the following comment useful :-
THIS IS THE BEST MOVIE EVER MADE, 21 October 2003

Author: nutsy from Olympia, Washington

Anthony Perkins realizes the paranoia of Joseph K, charged with an unnamed crime by uncooperative detectives and pursued by victims, executioners, and young girls through a nightmarish European city which is darker than the blackest things in horror of film noir. The terrifying,thought provoking, dreamily real picture could only have been brought to us by Orson Welles. He comes to us not only as a director, but again as an actor. Welles plays a bedridden lawyer in a cavernous house and enters in the cloud of smoke from a cigar. Romy Shneider shines as his nursemaid who seduces the lawyers clients like K and Block(Akim Tamiroff). Welles updated Kafka's THE TRIAL to the age after the holocaust and the atomic bomb. This is aided by the locations Welles was forced to shoot in after funding was cut. Edmund Richard masterfully moves his camera through the ruined interiors of a decaying industrial Europe. K's dillema is hightened by the cavernous abandoned railroad station. The picture is genius from the pinscreen opening to the spellbinding climax. Fans of THE THIRD MAN should appreciate the final scenes. Welles's best and therefore the best there is.

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24 out of 34 people found the following comment useful :-
Aptly Ambiguously Layered 7 1/2, 4 August 2002
Author: tedg (tedg@FilmsFolded.com) from Virginia Beach

Spoilers herein.

Welles is one of the three primary inventors of cinema. And when he says this film is his best -- and autobiographical to boot -- one should sit up and take notice.

It is a remarkable experience, this film. Here are some elements I found interesting that are not yet noted here.

The impressive interiors are in a then abandoned train station. Today, that building houses the world's greatest collection of impressionist and postmodern art. One can walk around that museum and locate many of the locations used. It is an unhappy building now: it has many objects as important as this film or the book it is based on -- and their intent is as iconoclastic as Welles and Kafka, but it is run as a heavyhanded, relatively totalitarian institution. One gets much the same feeling of trapped artists now walking around it as one gets from this film.

Here's a puzzle for you: what black and white film was made in Europe by a master filmmaker; released in 1963; is a surreal depiction of an artist's angst; uses the device of many lovers or potential lovers in an imaginary array of sexual partners; arranged according to stereotype; is autobiographical and considered by the filmmaker his best. Both this and 8 1/2. Too many similarities for this to be accidental, including some stylistic touches (the painter). Both are films about film-making.

Welles uses actors in a then unusual way. It had long been the practice to take actors of ordinary skill and fit them to characters that more or less match their personality. But that practice simply took advantage of what the actor could do and was as much a matter of the actor exploiting the system as anything else. Welles here exploits Perkins, an actor who hasn't a clue about what is going on and so never finds the character. Clearly Welles wanted the effect of utter disorientation and knew Perkins could not consciously produce it.

Others have since used this technique (the Coens come to mind), sometimes with celebrities who will be really ticked when they emerge from their fogs.

A final interesting element: the framing. Welles is a master of mixing and conflating narrative methods. 'Kane' surely holds the record. Here, he is constrained by the pre-existing text: it is important that there be few narrative threads: Perkins' confusion and denial; the 'state's version; and the whole thing may be a dream or paranoid vision. Welles for instance cannot imply that the whole thing is one of the painter's paintings for instance, something he would have included in a flash if he could. So he extends his narrative layers offscreen by explicitly referencing it as a play he is doing, as a book (a 'dirty' book), and most creatively as an illustrated parable. He frames the film with drawings that are halfway between book illustrations and theatrical set designs. And he narrates them in a manner halfway between a drama and a reading. Very, very clever use of framing to increase the narrative layers by reference beyond what you see.

Ted's Evaluation: 3 of 4 -- Worth watching.

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13 out of 15 people found the following comment useful :-
"Every Man Strives To Attain The Law", 30 December 1999
Author: Michael Coy (michael.coy@virgin.net) from London, England

By the times Welles moved his cast and crew to Paris to complete "The Trial", the large-scale project conceived and filmed in Yugoslavia was having to be whittled down fairly drastically because, not for the first or last time in Welles' career, the money had run out. The Paris scenes are shot entirely inside the (then) magnificently derelict Gare d'Orsay, and one wonders if the film's simple, no-frills prologue was forced on Welles by dint of poverty. Monochrome drawings are flipped upwards in a process which Welles calls "pin-screen". The director narrates the fable of a man who seeks entry through the Door of Justice, but never reaches his goal. This conundrum of guards and portals harks back to ancient times, and provides a neat distillation of the story to come.

For the entirety of the long scene in K's bedroom, and throughout the major part of the film, Welles positions the camera slightly below waist height. This 'wrong' spatial relationship creates in the viewer a vague sense of unease, a visual disorientation which compounds K's emotional loss of bearings. Welles plays clever tricks with the proportions of the rooms, their lines being slightly out of kilter, and the ceilings very much in view. Typically, Welles is deliberately and flamboyantly breaking a cardinal rule of cinematography - 'keep the ceiling out of shot'. Interiors seem open and spacious if we can't see the ceiling, and Welles is after the converse effect: driving home the point that K inhabits an airless, joyless place and his surroundings are imbued with inchoate hostility.

German expressionism had gripped Welles' imagination back in the 1930's, and virtually all of his films show its abiding influence. The columns of the opera house represent social regimentation, and K offends against social conformity by awkwardly pushing his way out of the theatre, an irregular irritant polluting the symmetry of the seating. When K gets caught in the exodus of workers from the office, he is both literally and metaphorically swimming against the tide. His microscopic ineffectuality against the ponderous stateliness of the courtroom doors drives home the expressionist point - he is a puny Jonah, entering the cavernous bowels of The State.

"To be in chains is sometimes safer than being free," and it could be said that Welles' genius flourished best when shackled by a dearth of resources. Lacking the money for costumes during the shooting of "Othello", Welles turned adversity to artistic advantage, filming the murder scene in a turkish bath, not only obviating the need for clothing but also making a succinct point about Iago's motives being 'stripped bare'. "The Trial" affords another example of Welles' remarkable fecundity. Zitorelli's studio is built of cheap slats and lit from outside, creating a powerful cinematic image of The State's placeman clinging precariously to his wretched privileges - all filmed at practically no expense. The skewed, empty picture frames are silent comments on the distorted and barren perspective of Zitorelli, the human race's Benedict Arnold.

K is a Freudian picaro, journeying in despair through the intestines of a nightmare system of justice, an apparatus ironically designed to ensure that justice is stifled. The shades of Buchenwald are introduced by Welles. Defendants wait with meathooks above their heads and, in other parts of this unfathomable 'system', nameless naked unfortunates stand in quiet misery, their numbers hanging from their necks. Leni and The Wife are grotesque distortions of Dante's Beatrice, malformed guides with no sense of direction and no transcendent vision. Welles himself plays Hassler the advocate, the bully who has no thought of his client's welfare but seeks only to perpetuate the cruel gavotte of litigation. "The confusion's impenetrable," a point reinforced by shooting characters through interminable patterns of beams and girders, whose shifting geometry engulfs the insignificant humans.

In his 1985 biography of Welles, Charles Higham declared "The Trial" a failure, concluding that it was "muffled, dull, unexciting on every level". Perhaps more tellingly, he criticised Welles for adopting a grandiose approach, whereas Kafka's work cries out for spareness and understatement. Higham is excellent, but the film is not, in my humble opinion, a failure. It evokes with emotional power a dreamspace of despair, and in so doing renders a great service to Kafka's oeuvre.

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10 out of 11 people found the following comment useful :-
European Surrealism, 4 March 1999

Author: fideist from Chicago, IL

THE TRIAL is Orson Welles's version of a typical European film with all the surrealistic trappings one might expect from a work by a Fellini. The feel is very true to Kafka's works. The sets are stunning.

Anthony Perkins is perfectly cast. Welles does his usual quality acting. But it is Romy Schneider's face that lights up the screen whenever she is on. A sad reminder that she left us way too early.

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