John Travolta takes the part of a cocky, cynical personal-injury attorney ("I can appreciate the theatrical value of several dead kids") who cannot be shamed into pursuing a class-action suit against a small-town tanning factory and environmental polluter until he can connect the defendant to some deep pockets: Peter Pan Peanut Butter. (The case is based on fact; names can be named.) Travolta is too transparent in his initial insincerity. The problem is not that we credit lawyers with greater commitment; it's that we credit them with greater deceit. And his eventual conversion is no more convincing: all on the surface. But after the countless courtroom dramas to come to session on screen, this one manages (what had seemed nearly impossible) to find a new angle, and at the same time a new source of sympathy for lawyers: the sheer cost of trying a case. The whole of the supporting cast is top-drawer: Robert Duvall, William H. Macy, Tony Shalhoub, Kathleen Quinlan, James Gandolfini, David Thornton, Dan Hedaya, John Lithgow, Stephen Fry, Kathy Bates in a last-minute cameo. Indeed the whole movie, like the ballpoint pen that Duvall covets at a bargaining session in a deluxe hotel, is of "good quality," in particular the tastefully muted photography of Conrad Hall. It is also, in common with its star, transparent and over-obvious in its attitudes and emotions. Given the well-known craving of American audiences for triumph and reward, however, it took considerable courage for writer-director Steven Zaillian to ask them to sit on their hands and contemplate the pathos of fighting the good fight without seeing it through to a finish. (1998) — Duncan Shepherd