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Volume 48, Number 6 (August 2001) reprinted by permission of the author and Law Review THE MOVIE LAWYERS' GUIDE TO REDEMPTIVE LEGAL PRACTICE Paul Bergman*
An enduring film image is the "moment of crisis" that produces the "moment of truth." Ships about to sink or brakeless cars plummeting down steep mountain roads often provide the impetus for dramatic reve-lations. In such settings, and in line with the policy behind the "dying declaration" exception to the hearsay rule,2 characters are prone to revealing long-hidden truths.3 In Filmland, crises can also be very good medicine. Characters who are fortunate enough to survive moments of crisis often emerge with improved happiness and moral values. Forced by crises to confront suppressed realities, movie characters may choose to redeem their lives by committing their futures to performing what audiences are likely to perceive as good works.4 Thus, filmmakers may use crises as a tool for sending powerful normative messages about what constitutes a morally good and personally satisfying life. This Essay examines films in which movie lawyers are redeemed by moments of crisis. Just as crises may serve as tools for sending normative messages about what constitutes a morally good and satisfying personal life, so too may crises lead movie lawyers to "redemptive lawyering," or morally good and personally satisfying professional lifestyles.5 The Essay examines images of redemptive lawyering for reel lawyers and compares those images to the attitudes of real lawyers. convey powerful normative images of lawyering ideals, and of what lawyers can be and can do to emerge from frustrating, unsatisfying, and even unethical careers. The subsections below describe three forms of redemptive lawyering that movie lawyers have adopted in response to crises. A. Problem-Centered Lawyering "Problem-centered lawyering" is one form of redemptive lawyering. Redemption occurs when a crisis enables a lawyer to realize that ultimate professional satisfaction consists of using legal knowledge and legal experience to craft satisfactory solutions to clients' problems. The idea is that a life devoted to problem solving is personally satisfying. Moreover, because most of us tend to believe that helping people in need is a socially valuable activity, audiences are likely to perceive devotion to clients' problems as morally good. Counsellor at Law6 presents an archetypal example of a movie lawyer who finds redemption in problem-centered lawyering. George Simon (John Barrymore) is an up-from-the-gutter Jew who has become one of New York City's most successful lawyers. Simon's office, where the entire movie takes place, is a jumble of frantic activity. Simon is in his element, juggling a stream of legal and personal problems brought to him by clients, his mother, his partner, his wife, an investigator, various office employees and others. However, what matters most to Simon is not his law practice, but his non-Jewish trophy wife Cora (Doris Kenyon). He brags about Cora constantly, and is so concerned with preserving Cora's social status that he turns down a case that would have produced a lucrative fee, but that Cora felt would embarrass her in the eyes of her friends. Thus, when Simon finds out that Cora has been unfaithful, the moment of crisis is at hand. For Simon, because law practice was but a means to acceptance by what he considered the social elite, Cora's unfaithfulness robs his practice of its meaning. Simon opens the window of his suddenly dark, quiet office and prepares to jump to his death. But like many a prizefighter, Simon is saved by the bell - in this case, the bell of his telephone. Simon's adoring secretary Regina Gordon (Bebe Daniels) was supposed to have left for the day, but she returned to the office because she was worried about him. Regina answers the phone and tells Simon that the caller is the president of a steel company whose son is in serious trouble. At first, Simon remains in suicide mode; he orders Regina to hang up. In moments, however, Simon reverts to the confident, energetic lawyer we have seen throughout the movie. He excitedly grabs the phone, shouts instructions to the president, and rushes out of the office with Regina to his client's aid. The moment of crisis enables Simon to achieve redemption by becoming a problem-centered lawyer. In crisis, Simon recognizes that chasing after Cora and her elite society friends is unimportant compared to the personal satisfaction and even the exhilaration of confronting and overcoming challenging legal problems. Moreover, Simon's commitment to problem solving is morally good, as he places himself in the immediate service of a client who, although the president of a steel company, is at bottom a father worried about his son. The film's final scene symbolizes Simon's redemption. As he leaves his office for the first time in the film, so he sheds his old self and what he had falsely valued in law practice.7 Counsellor at Law conjures a strong image of commitment to problem solving as a lawyerly ideal, and suggests that devotion to problem solving is both professionally satisfying and morally good without regard to the status of the client. B. Client-Centered Lawyering "Client-centered lawyering"8 is a second form of redemptive lawyering. Redemption occurs when crisis enables a lawyer to realize that the ultimate source of a satisfactory professional career is bonding with clients.9 This image depicts clients as weak and in desperate need of protection. It suggests the need for lawyers to empathize with clients in order to provide them with the legal help they deserve. An empathic lawyer is both professionally happy and morally good. Lawyer Man10 is an early and somewhat general example of client-centered redemption. Anton Adam (William Powell) has a small but successful practice serving the largely immigrant population on New York's lower east side. Olga Michaels (Joan Blondell) is Adam's standard-issue adoring secretary. After a significant courtroom victory, Adam closes his store-front office and joins a powerful uptown practice, where he prospers. To Olga's disgust, Adam seems to have turned his back on his former clients. Economic success for Adam comes with a price, however - the mob wants him to do its bidding. When Adam refuses, the mob sets him up and the ensuing criminal charges ruin his lucrative career. Adam's specific moment of crisis emerges when the mob boss offers Adam a judgeship. While this probably would not be a crisis for most lawyers, it is for Adam because he understands that the offer was made with the idea that, because he has been publicly disgraced and has nowhere to turn, the mob will expect to dictate Adam's decisions. Adam does have a place to turn, however - the lower-east-side practice where he started his career. Arm in arm, Adam and Olga happily walk through streets teeming with the politically powerless population to which Adam will devote the remainder of his career. Adam's bond is not with a specific client, but with a population with which he shares common roots. More typically, personal redemption for movie lawyers comes from the plight of a specific client. In The Verdict,11 Frank Galvin (Paul Newman) is a boozed-out personal injury lawyer who tries to scratch out a living by soliciting clients in funeral parlors. Galvin has one case of real value, a medical malpractice case against two anesthesiologists and the hospital that employed them. The complaint, which had been filed by Galvin's mentor, Mickey Morrissey (Jack Warden), alleged that the doctors administered an improper anesthetic to a young woman who entered the hospital's emergency room to have a baby. The improper anesthetic left the young woman comatose. Unfortunately for his clients, the comatose woman's guardians, Galvin has done nothing on the case. It's hard to prepare for trial when you're dead drunk most of the time. Galvin's moment of redemption occurs when he decides to visit the comatose woman in the hospital. As he takes photographs of her lying helplessly in a hospital bed, kept alive by a respirator and feeding tube, he bonds with her though she can not speak, hear, see, or offer him a drink.12 For the first time, Galvin realizes the woman's helplessness and his respon-sibility to bring to justice the doctors who ruined her life. Significantly, Galvin tells the nurses who want to know why he is in the hospital room, "I'm her lawyer."13 Thereafter, Galvin works relentlessly for his client. Further evidence of Galvin's redemption occurs when he engages in pretrial settlement negotiations with defense lawyer Ed Concannon (James Mason) in the chambers of Judge Hoyle (Milo O'Shea).14 Judge Hoyle chides Galvin for turning down a large settlement offer, commenting, "your client could walk out of here with a lot of money."15 "She can't walk," is Galvin's reply.16 Galvin is so personally connected to his client that he takes the judge's figurative comment as a personal slight17 The film's conclusion further signifies Galvin's redemptive transformation. Though the jurors have no legal basis for doing so,18 they return a huge verdict in favor of the comatose woman. Galvin later receives a phone call from Laura Fischer (Charlotte Rampling) whom Concannon had employed as a sexual spy to report on Galvin's trial strategy.19 Galvin's refusal to answer the phone suggests that he has renounced his former habits and will devote himself to his clients. Joe Miller (Denzel Washington) in Philadelphia20 becomes a client-centered lawyer when he connects discrimination against homosexual AIDS sufferer Andrew Beckett (Tom Hanks) to discrimination against African Americans. Miller is an African American lawyer with a small but successful neighborhood personal injury practice.21 At the start of the film, Beckett is an up-and-coming star attorney with one of Philadelphia's largest and most prestigious law firms. However, by the time he asks Miller to represent him in an employment discrimination lawsuit against the law firm, Beckett is deathly ill with AIDS. Beckett claims that he was illegally fired because of his illness. Miller initially refuses to take the case, partly because he thinks it unwinnable, but primarily because he wants nothing to do with the AIDS virus or homosexuals. Some weeks later, Miller and Beckett are doing legal research at adjacent tables in a public law library. Miller's moment of crisis emerges when he notices a white patron staring at him. The patron's disdainful look suggests that as an African American, Miller could only be a client and therefore should not be in a section of the library reserved for lawyers. Miller then observes a librarian rudely trying to convince a noticeably ill Beckett to move to a private research room. At this redemptive moment, Miller recognizes that both he and Beckett are targets of discrimination. After Beckett holds his ground, Miller asks him about the status of his employment discrimination claim. Beckett calls Miller's attention to a portion of a case establishing that Beckett's claim is legally valid. Miller reads the last portion, in which the court refers to discrimination against AIDS sufferers as the equivalent of "social death," and comparable to any form of illegal discrimination in which prejudice is based on the presumed characteristics of a group rather than individual merit. The language cements the personal bond between Miller and Beckett as targets of discrimination. In the next scene Miller is representing Beckett; he serves the senior partner of Beckett's ex-law firm with a complaint for employment discrimination. The film suggests the redemptive power of client-centered lawyering. Miller had been anti-gay, and his practice seemingly consisted of going through the motions on behalf of clients in whom he had no personal interest in order to earn a good, steady income. After taking on Beckett's case, Miller becomes aware that homosexual relationships are much like his own, and he views gay rights as an important civil rights issue. He tries the case with a zeal that demonstrates that he has a personal, as well as an economic, stake in its outcome. Thus, Philadelphia suggests that lawyers can redeem themselves by personally bonding with clients. The Accused22 offers a final example of client-centered redemption. Sarah Tobias (Jodie Foster), who scrapes out a meager living as a waitress, is raped by three men in a bar. Numerous barflies cheer the rapists on. Prosecutor Kathryn Murphy (Kelly McGillis) initially seeks the maximum punishment. However, she soon finds out that Tobias has a spotty past and that just before the rape, Tobias had been drinking heavily and dancing provocatively. Fearful of losing, Murphy agrees to guilty pleas to a lesser, nonsexual charge. As it did for Frank Galvin in The Verdict, Murphy's moment of redemption occurs bedside in a hospital. Shortly after Murphy has plea-bargained away her case, Tobias is in a parking lot when she is taunted by one of the barflies. She furiously rams her car into his truck, and sustains serious injuries which result in her being hospitalized. Murphy's moment of crisis arrives when she visits Tobias in the hospital. Tobias accuses Murphy of treating her no better than did the barflies - both, Tobias says, treated her "like a piece of shit."23 Recognition of the truth of Tobias's statement produces Murphy's moment of redemption. Murphy insists on prosecuting the barflies for contributing to the rape, over the vehement objections of her boss, the district attorney. Murphy identifies with Tobias personally and tells him, "I owe her."24 The case goes to trial. Tobias describes what happened, a key witness comes forward to support her story, and the barflies are convicted. The Accused suggests how easily what may be "business as usual" for lawyers can appear contemptuous to the outside world. After all, Murphy's conduct prior to her redemptive moment is in no way unusual or improper. Prosecutors routinely offer plea bargains when they face weaknesses in proof. From Tobias's perspective, however, Murphy abandoned her and implicitly denied Tobias's worth as a human being. By personally bonding with Tobias, Murphy derives personal satisfaction and punishes immoral behavior. C. Justice-Centered Lawyering "Justice-centered lawyering" is a third form of redemptive lawyering. Redemption occurs when crisis enables a lawyer to realize that ultimate professional satisfaction consists of pursuing justice.25 Like client-centered lawyers, justice-centered lawyers typically represent politically powerless clients. For the latter group of lawyers, however, personal satisfaction and moral goodness result from the positions they advocate rather than personal attachments to individuals. In An Act of Murder,26 Calvin Cooke (Fredric March) is a strict, letter-of-the-law judge known in the community as "Old Man Maximum" for his harsh sentencing policies. Off the bench, Judge Cooke is devoted to his wife Cathy (Florence Eldridge). Judge Cooke's moment of crisis occurs when he learns that Cathy has a terminal illness. Judge Cooke crashes his car with the intention of killing Cathy in order to spare her a long and painful death. Although the authorities are prepared to assume that Cathy's death was the result of an accident, Judge Cooke confesses that he intentionally killed her. He is charged with murder, and insists on pleading guilty. Over Judge Cooke's objection, the trial court judge appoints defense attorney David Douglas (Edmond O'Brien) to represent Judge Cooke so as to ensure that a factual basis for the plea exists. Douglas asks for an autopsy, which produces surprising evidence: Cathy was dead from lethal poison before the crash occurred. Additional evidence shows that Cathy also knew of her illness, and that she ingested poison before taking the fatal car ride. After hearing this evidence, the judge dismisses the case. The experience redeems Judge Cooke. Acknowledging his moral guilt, Judge Cooke states that if he is allowed to remain a judge, he will have an enlightened view of justice. To do justice, he must look not only at a person's behavior, but also the person's circumstances and the reasons for that behavior. Henceforth, in his court, "a man shall be judged not only by the law, but by the heart as well."27 Thus, Judge Cooke's personal crisis allows him to recognize that a uniform application of black-letter rules will not necessarily produce justice. Moral application of rules demands that judges holistically evaluate people's backgrounds and circumstances. A yearning to do justice also characterizes the redemption of Maggie Ward (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) in Class Action.28 Maggie is an associate in a large civil defense firm, hungry for partnership. As second chair to Michael Grazier (Colin Friels), Maggie defends Argo Motors against a lawsuit filed by her father Jedediah Ward (Gene Hackman), a crusading plaintiff's personal injury lawyer. Jedediah's complaint alleges that design defects in a car manufactured by Argo, the Meridian, caused numerous deaths and injuries. Maggie learns of a "smoking gun": Dr. Pavel (Jan Rubes), an Argo engineer, had submitted a report stating that the Meridian's design would cause it to explode under certain conditions. Argo disregarded the report, figuring that defending a few wrongful death cases would be cheaper in the long run than retrofitting thousands of cars. Rather than turn the report over to Jedediah in response to his legitimate discovery request, Maggie accedes to her firm's plan to mislabel the report and bury it in a truckload of Argo documents given to Jedediah. Her moment of crisis emerges when she realizes that the law firm duped her. The report was not turned over to Jedediah at all, and even the copy that Maggie had in her desk was removed. Maggie redeems herself by responding to her law firm's deceitful conduct with some trickery of her own. She tells Jedediah about the report, tricks Grazier into denying under oath that the report existed, and provides an Argo witness who testifies to having seen the report. Argo's defense collapses and it has to settle Jedediah's claims for millions of dollars. Maggie then joins Jedediah's law firm, happily dancing and reuniting with her father. An Act of Murder and Class Action manifest markedly different conceptions of justice. For Judge Cooke, justice is a process, a method of evaluating individual responsibility. For Maggie, justice requires choosing sides. Automobile manufacturers and the corporate law firms that represent them are evil; individual consumers and the solo and small firm practitioners who represent them are good. Nevertheless, both Judge Cooke and Maggie experience crisis, and both react by committing to justice. In part, the discussion below is based on lawyers' responses to inquiries I posted on web-based "Greedy Associate" bulletin boards.29 The inquiries asked lawyers to identify the most satisfying aspect of their practices.30 Unlike many surveys of lawyer attitudes, the inquiries did not seek to ascertain respondents' overall satisfaction with legal practice. Instead, the inquiries' purpose was to identify at least one satisfactory aspect of practice.31 Comparing the lawyers' responses to film images of successful lawyering will then provide insight into the extent to which popular culture's normative messages about satisfactory legal careers have a basis in reality.32 A. Problem-Centered Lawyering The extent to which responsibility for helping clients resolve problems contributes to a satisfactory legal career is perhaps the greatest commonality between the attitudes of practicing lawyers and film images of redemptive lawyering. Whether they litigate or do transactional work, lawyers use legal knowledge and experience to help clients find satisfactory solutions to legal problems. When lawyers derive personal satisfaction both from becoming enmeshed in and from resolving clients' problems, they fulfill the redemptive messages of films like Counsellor at Law. An "open letter" to law students from Professor (and former practicing lawyer) Patrick Schiltz provides support for George Simon's approach to legal practice. Schiltz has noted that "what many lawyers find most gratifying about practicing law is having ordinary people show up at their offices with problems, and then seeing the lives of those people improved in tangible ways as a direct result of their lawyer's [sic] efforts."33 That the opportunity to resolve clients' problems is important to a satisfactory legal career is further borne out by a career satisfaction survey conducted by the American Bar Association (ABA) Young Lawyers Division in 2000.34 According to the report, "About 70% of the young lawyers responding to the current survey feel that their actual experience has lived up very well to their expectations regarding the level of intellectual challenge involved in the practice of law."35 It seems fair to regard intellectual challenge as implicit recognition of the importance of problem solving to a satisfactory career, as much of law practice's intellectual challenge is likely to result from identifying and working towards solutions of clients' problems. Moreover, the report notes that The level of satisfaction an individual derives from his or her career may turn in part on the degree to which one's expectations ultimately mesh with one's experience... . With regard to ... the ability to help others, ... the majority of the respondents working in legal positions appear to be at least somewhat satisfied with the convergence between their expectations and experience.36The ABA survey's conclusions as to the centrality of problem solving to career satisfaction was echoed by many of the practicing lawyers who responded to my Greedy Associate inquiries. Asked to identify the source from which they derived the most satisfaction in law practice, the largest group of respondents pointed to helping clients work through legal problems.37 Here are some of the representative comments:
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remaining respondents, about 60 percent were "somewhat satisfied" with their ability to contribute to the social good, and about 25 percent were "not at all" satisfied. n42 When firm size is taken into account, "private practitioners in large firms are less pleased with their ability to make a contribution to social good ... than are those in smaller firms."43 The results of Greedy Associate inquiries are consistent with the survey. Only one respondent identified "pursuit of justice" as the respondent's primary source of personal satisfaction with legal practice. This respondent stated that What I like best about practicing law is standing up for a good rational principle that is being threatened... . The biggest struggle is knowing that defending a policy or practice may be detrimental to a particular individual and not being in a position to help that person. But looking at the bigger picture, adherence to the principle/policy that is being enforced is better for society and others in the long run.This respondent's concept of justice is closer to Judge Cooke's in An Act of Murder than to Maggie's in Class Action. That is, for both the respondent and Judge Cooke, justice consists of a process rather than a political ideology. Nevertheless, the respondent and Judge Cooke have different perspectives on what constitutes a fair and just process. For Judge Cooke, justice requires taking account of individual circumstances. Thus, Judge Cooke might point to dissimilar backgrounds to justify the disparate sentences of two defendants who engaged in similar illegal conduct. The respondent, by contrast, suggests the importance of maintaining good principles even though they may produce injustice in individual cases. C. Client-Centered Lawyering As I described in Part I above, movie lawyers like Frank Galvin (The Verdict) and Joe Miller (Philadelphia) have adopted personally satisfactory and morally good legal careers by establishing personal bonds with clients. The Greedy Associate inquiries generated some support for this source of satisfaction. For example, a litigator who works for the government stated that what's best about practicing law is saying to a jury, "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my name is and I represent the United States of America."44 Interestingly, the ABA report lacked questions inviting respondents to indicate their degree of satisfaction with their ability to establish close lawyer-client relationships. Future Young Lawyers Division (YLD) surveys might profitably probe real lawyers' attitudes towards their clients. Differences in large firm and small firm experiences are a continuing focus of YLD surveys, and relationships with clients are likely to differ according to the sizes of the law firms in which respondents practice. Moreover, Part I described a number of films that send strong normative messages about the importance of bonding with clients, and such films help to shape new lawyers' expectations about practicing law.45 Finally, for at least some of the lawyers who answered the Greedy Associates inquiries, the client experiences is the single most significant source of satisfaction with practicing law.46 D."Unredeemed" Real Lawyers The discussion above has suggested that movie lawyers' sources of career satisfaction are consistent with those of many practicing lawyers. At the same time, the Greedy Associates inquiries generated responses that do not correspond to films' normative messages about successful legal careers, and this part briefly describes these "unredeemed" responses. 1. Financial Reward For movie lawyers, money is often the root of all evil. Movie lawyers who pursue money often resemble the pre-redeemed Maggie in Class Action. They behave unethically while working for evil large law firms that represent evil clients. The inside view is often not that much more positive. Schiltz, for example, recognizes that the chance to earn a better-than-decent living is undoubtedly an important lure for many law school applicants.47 At the same time, Schiltz warns law students against playing the "money game," and identifies the pursuit of money as the reason that so many lawyers are unhappy and unethical.48 Many lawyers would strongly disagree with the negative images of a good salary promoted by movies and commentators such as Schiltz. Compare these responses to the Greedy Associates inquiries:
office.52 Thus, the message of popular legal culture is that a lawyer for whom power is a primary source of satisfaction is not leading a morally good life, and is therefore "unredeemed." For some Greedy Associate respondents, however, power is distinct from money and is a primary source of personal satisfaction.53 Representative comments include:
I am a UCLA law professor working on a short essay on "lawyer job satisfaction according to the movies." I'd like to compare the movie images with opinions from actual lawyers. So here's my simple question: "What one thing do you like best about the practicing law?" It might be "the money," "working on interesting problems," "solving people's problems," or anything else. And even if you are in general unhappy with your job, you may still find some aspect of it satisfying, and that's what I want to know about. You may reply to Bergman@law.ucla.edu. I'll keep all replies strictly confidential. Thank you! [1410] |
