That blue line may be thin, but the filmmaking wasn't

The Thin Blue Line, directed by Errol Morris and released in 1988, was a game-changing documentary for its time. For proof, consider that it was primarily responsible for getting a man wrongfully convicted for the 1976 murder of a police officer released from prison. It’s also one of the progenitors of true crime documentaries, helping to popularize this increasingly popular genre.

Morris’ film reveals that the conviction of Robert Wood Adams was based largely on flawed witness testimonies and questionable investigative practices. The filmmakers present a meticulous investigation into Adams’ case, raising serious doubts about his guilt and casting a critical light on the reliability of the justice system. Through interviews and the introduction of David Ray Harris, a key witness whose credibility and motives are suspect, the film questions the established narrative of Adams' guilt, prompting renewed interest that ultimately led to Adams' release in 1989, after 12 years in prison.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of The Thin Blue Line, conducted last week, click here.

The Thin Blue Line proved innovative and influential as a documentary in several ways. First, the filmmaker’s novel approach is previsualized cinematography: Every shot is carefully created, which is a departure from the random and unplanned realism of cinema verite (a loose, raw, handheld style) often utilized in documentaries that aim for unpolished, spontaneous, on-the-fly footage.

Additionally, it doesn’t rely on voiceover narration to tell its story. Instead, it recreates supposed events through the accounts of the eyewitnesses and people involved via dramatic but artificial re-enactments that present conflicting testimonies and alternative perspectives on the crime.

Often, Morris’ go-to technique is to film objects related to the crime scene, such as gun, car taillight, or milkshake from different angles and viewpoints as further questions or clues are introduced. These recreation shots are illuminated with high key lighting and set against a bland black background, and the re-enactments, interestingly, don’t focus on the faces of any actors/characters. Slow motion is occasionally used for exaggerated effect, too.

The filmmakers employ other distinctive elements interestingly: maps, clips from the drive-in film, newspaper clippings, mug shots, close-ups of visual evidence, clocks, and an ashtray. The final gripping scene, in which Harris confesses, only uses shots of a tape recorder shot from different angles (this was a happy accident due to a camera malfunction), quite a curious way to capture a film’s most important scene.

Furthermore, the interviewees often make eye contact with the camera, creating a more intimate experience as if they are directly addressing the viewer; these subjects are also not identified with title text, and they are each distinctively framed within each shot.

And, unlike so many previous docs, The Thin Blue Line features a proper score written exclusively for the film (in this instance by Philip Glass).

Morris's approach redefined documentary filmmaking by using film as a tool for investigative journalism and by melding advocacy and art. Other documentarians and filmmakers adopted many of these stylistic choices in subsequent docs, police procedurals, and true crime dramatizations.

It’s fair to ask: Is The Thin Blue Line objective and impartial as many expect a documentary to be? You can make the case that Morris is not proselytizing Adam’s innocence but rather brings to light the flawed logistics and testimonies that resulted in his conviction. Morris also allows all sides to tell their stories. However, The Thin Blue Line goes beyond neutral reporting, using interviews, reenactments, and visual storytelling to challenge the prosecution’s narrative and cast doubt on key witness testimonies and investigative practices. These choices give the film a distinctive, critical tone, transforming it from an objective documentary into a compelling investigative critique.

Morris’s clear agenda, along with the haunting score by Philip Glass, creates an atmosphere of mystery and skepticism, which some rightly view as biased. Yet, this partiality is also what makes the film so impactful: It blurs the line between journalism and advocacy, aiming not just to inform viewers but to expose injustice and provoke change. By eventually leading to Randall Dale Adams’ exoneration, the film demonstrates how such a stance can serve an essential purpose in questioning flawed judicial outcomes.

Similar works

• Netflix’s Making a Murderer series
• Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills
• The Central Park Five
• Akira Kurosawa’s Rashomon, another movie that tells the story of a crime from several different viewpoints and attempts to explore the nature of truth and reality
• Countless crime scene and police procedural TV shows that have utilized the crime recreation approach with highly stylized, slow-motion footage and impressionistic shots of various objects, clues, etc.

Other films by Errol Morris

• Gates of Heaven (1978), about two pet cemeteries
• Vernon, Florida (1981), about the inhabitants of a small town
• A Brief History of Time (1991)
• The Fog of War (2003), about war mastermind Robert McNamara