'Judgment in Berlin' (PG)

In 1978 a burly East German waiter used a tiny toy pistol to hijack a Polish airliner bound for East Berlin, forcing its pilots to change course and land at an American air base in West Germany.

The incident, which is at the heart of the film "Judgment in Berlin," put the governments of the United States and West Germany in a tough position. Previously, no one had ever been tried in the West for escaping from behind the Iron Curtain, and, naturally, both governments would want to be viewed as being on the side of those seeking freedom. On the other hand, international cooperation is needed if the safety of the skies is to be maintained, and to condone what many would perceive as an act of terrorism would leave us defenseless against similar attempts to, say, hijack U.S. planes to Cuba.

No doubt what you're asking yourself right about now is whether this a movie or a seminar on the foreign policy implications of international air travel. And you're right to ask. In fact, this is the one question the filmmakers certainly would have benefited from asking.

"Judgment in Berlin," which tells the story of the hijacker's trial in a U.S. courtroom set up in Berlin, pivots on a very narrow legal point. And it's about as rousing and as instructive as a day in traffic court. Granted, the question at hand here has broad and significant implications, but it is not shallow to suggest that the working out of this particular legal thicket is not the height of entertainment, nor is a motion picture the best means available for exploring them. I haven't read the book on which the movie was based, but I make the assumption that its author, who was the judge in this case, had some knowledge of the law, some interest in the details of the case and, even, the ability to render those details meaningful to the interested layman. And, if so, it would have to be an improvement over the film version.

To apply esthetic judgments to the film, which is indifferently staged, dully paced and blandly photographed, seems nearly pointless. Ultimately, what the film becomes is a rousing cheer for the judge (played by Martin Sheen), who stands up for the man on trial (Heinz Hoenig) and his codefendant (Jutta Speidel). But in order to make its points, the film draws a parallel between the judge here and the judges who upheld the rights of civil rights protesters in the South and, by implication, between those protesters and the skyjacker.

This, to put it mildly, is all wet.

Furthermore, are we intended to accept the view that the judgment enacted here is the proper one because the judge, as Sheen plays him, is a man of conscience, bent on defending the Constitution? The film, which was written by Joshua Sinclair and its director Leo Penn, places great emphasis on the fact that this is a case being tried in Berlin by a Jewish judge -- the point being, one supposes, that a higher moral dictate is being followed.

And do the filmmakers really expect us to celebrate this particular judgment? Hasn't it occurred to them that what this amounts to is an elaborate justification of international terrorism?

Sheen, who has become the actor of choice for cause-oriented filmmakers, turns in another hollow, rhetorical performance. And Sean Penn, one of the director's sons, is wholly unconvincing in his small role as the East German man who sat next to the skyjacker on the plane and, at the last moment, comes forward to testify on his behalf.

It's hard to know what the filmmakers were hoping to demonstrate here. Their film may depict one of the bigger moments in jurisprudence, but as far as the movies are concerned, it should definitely have been settled out of court.