Thanks for joining me for the second edition of Jury Duty, a short series in which I reflect on some courtroom films and share a little diary of my own recent jury duty experience. If you’re just jumping in, I’d love for you to read Part 1 first to get caught up on the full story.
Early February found me apprehensive with jury duty fast approaching. Normally I’d be excited to perform jury service again, but with an already understaffed department at the office, the prospect of participating in what was already expected to be a long trial was disheartening. Now normally in this situation most of us have opinionated friends or family members with some advice in the matter…
…but to me that’s just not an option. I respect the legal process. I’m not prejudiced against any people group and would never stoop to pretending to be, and I’m certainly not interested in lying in court for that or any other fabrication… though I might have taken a step or two in intentionally undermining my credibility.
The morning of February 10th found me at the Johnson County Courthouse (yes, I did rock the hawk). Amazingly, there were about 100 prospective jurors packed into the courtroom (Hey, these odds look pretty good!). Despite the large crowd, my name was randomly selected as a candidate almost immediately — that is to say, one of the smaller panel of potential jurors who would be examined and selected for service if not excused or challenged.
It was at this point that we discovered more about the nature of the case — but more on that later, let’s get to the reviews! Next up on our docket are a couple of great films that I’d previously seen before but was more than happy to revisit. Both are based on popular novels and intend to say something about prejudice and racism in contemporary culture. One is an indisputable classic from an earlier era that looks through the lens of history; the other is a more modern callback which is known for its angry premise and ensemble cast.
To Kill A Mockingbird (1962)
Director: Robert Mulligan
Based on the famous celebrated novel by Harper Lee, To Kill A Mockingbird is the story of a noble lawyer who defends an innocent black man accused of raping a white girl — or at least that’s what I recalled from watching it at the age of 12 or 13. I’ve lived more than half of my life since then. What I remembered of the film was focused on the courtroom and racial aspects of the story, but now I see it through new eyes.
The setting is a small Alabama town in the throes of the Great Depression. A black man, Tom Robinson, is accused of raping and assaulting a white woman. Despite his innocence, the deep-seated racism which dominates popular thought virtually guarantees he will lose his case. The one element working in Tom’s favor is his court-appointed lawyer, Atticus Finch (Gregory Peck). Atticus is the best kind of advocate Tom could ever hope for — progressive, honorable, and most importantly not given to the racist mindset which pervades the town’s social landscape. Atticus boldly argues the case and demonstrates clearly through several proofs that Tom is innocent of the charges, but it will be up to the all-white jury to do the right thing and declare him innocent.
It’s important to understand To Kill A Mockingbird in its social context. While the story is set in the Depression-era past, its theme was clearly aimed at the present. The film was released at the end of 1962, which in retrospect places it at the height of the African American civil rights movement. A mere eight months’ time would bring about the March On Washington and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s I Have A Dream speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. This in turn would prove to be a major catalyst in the adoption of the Civil Rights Act and related legislature.
In my adolescence I appreciated the film’s statement about racial prejudice but missed something more obvious: important as it is, Tom Robinson’s case is actually the film’s B plot. What the film is about — really about — is fatherhood. The story is narrated from the adult perspective of Atticus’ daughter Scout, remembering her childhood. As her father stands for what is right, Scout and her older brother Jem resultantly become exposed to the ugliness — racism, hatred, drunkenness, and violence — that is teeming just beneath the surface of their small town. Atticus is a valiant single parent who not only shows unwavering courage in doing what is right, but fights to preserve and nurture his children’s innocence while teaching them about the evil in the world. No matter the situation, he somehow knows how to phrase things in a way that the kids will understand. As an adult, I’m deeply moved by Peck’s performance as a loving, reassuring, and masculine role model. He’s one of the most unflinchingly heroic figures in all of fiction.
To discuss one final theme, I must reveal some spoilers including the trial’s outcome. I’ll try to tiptoe around specifics but if you haven’t seen the film and want total freshness, you may just skip this paragraph. While walking home at night, the kids are physically attacked in the darkness with what appears to be murderous intent. Luckily someone comes to their aid, killing the attacker in the ensuing struggle. One of the stranger and more provocative aspects of the film is that its sense of justice is not aligned with a strict adherence to the law. The jury in Tom Robinson’s trial voted according to their prejudices instead of the facts of the case, resulting in a miscarriage of justice. The law failed. On the other hand, the unlawful killing of a man results in justice of a purer kind. Both Atticus Finch and the town Sheriff identify the man who saved the kids by taking the life of their attacker. Both are men who represent the law according to their occupations, but even so they choose to cover up the killing as an accident and protect the identity of the vigilante because it’s the right thing to do. This time at least, justice will prevail — even if it has to step over the law to do so.
A Time to Kill (1996)
Director: Joel Schumacher
The mere utterance of the name “Joel Schumacher” is enough to send icy shivers up the spines of many movie lovers. To this day he is best known as the director of Batman Forever and Batman & Robin, a pair of atrocious cinematic abominations that succeeded Tim Burton’s successful run on the series.
Schumacher spent the mid-90’s working for Warner Brothers, alternating between crafting respectable John Grisham adaptations and single-handedly destroying the Batman franchise. The release of A Time To Kill in 1996 was sandwiched between his two Batflicks. This fact might lead one to assume that it’s crap, but somehow that’s not the case — it’s quite good. Schumacher would go on to contend that his Batman films were simply the fulfillment of a contract; he delivered exactly what the studio demanded. Whether or not that’s true, the man has some terrific films in his oeuvre, and it’s unfair to judge him by his failures alone.
When his 10 year old daughter Tonya is raped by a couple of freewheeling rednecks, Carl Lee Hailey (Samuel M. F. Jackson) does the only thing he can do: he grabs an M16 and delivers a hail of lead retribution on the steps of the courthouse in full sight of a crowd of onlookers.
Carl Lee can’t afford to get legal representation, but he’s counting on his friend, inexperienced lawyer and primary protagonist Jake Brigance (Matthew McConaughey) to help him out. Carl’s vengeance was premeditated — so premeditated, in fact, that he asked Jake beforehand if he could count on him if he found himself “in a jam.” Jake feels morally obligated to follow through, but also hopes that the high profile case can inject new life into his ailing legal practice. The destitute black man and struggling white man make quite a motley pair of underdogs.
When Carl Lee asks Jake, “Think I can win?”, the response is not reassuring. “All depends on the jury, Carl Lee. Pick the right jury and you walk. DA picks the jury, and you get the gas.”
Jake and his helpers (he has no legal team, but sympathetic friends voluntarily aid him) know that Carl Lee’s best chances lie with those who would sympathize with his vigilantism: young men, fathers, and black folks. Unfortunately Rufus Buckley (Kevin Spacey), the prosecuting DA, uses his challenges to excuse all such candidates, leaving an unpromising jury full of, well, old white people. The jury actually takes things further by discussing the case outside of the courthouse — a flagrant violation of jury rules. They take a secret vote and from the ensuing dialogue we know that at least one of them has racist inclinations.
Carl Lee Hailey’s chances lie with a sympathetic jury, but even if he gets one he is pretty clearly guilty according to the letter of the law. His only option is to plead temporary insanity, and therein lies the rub: A Time To Kill clearly condones an act of vigilante justice, but it doesn’t exactly attack it that way. I realize of course that as characters Jake and Carl Lee are doing whatever it takes to win their case, but I wish the film had the guts to approach it straight. Carl Lee believes in what he did, and at one point testifies in a white hot fury, “Yes, they deserved to die and I hope they burn in hell!” I wish that Jake’s defense took the same approach: that the vigilante act was excusable, and not fueled by insanity. Carl Lee should be free not because he got off on a loophole, but because what he did was a justifiable action. I know that’s probably too optimistic to expect, but the story doesn’t directly address a problem with the letter of the law despite clearly wanting to. Instead of it attacking a deficiency in the law, it addresses the experience of one man navigating around it.
Aside from that, my main criticism of the film is that it comes off as too goofy or cartoony at times (this is Joel “Bat-Nipples” Schumacher, after all). The white men who rape Tonya are the ultimate redneck stereotypes: obnoxious, racist, mulleted, and guzzling beers while driving their weathered pickup truck decorated with Confederate insignia. Jake’s best friend, played by Oliver Platt, has a Southern accent which just comes off as silly. Everyone in the film is absolutely drenched with sweat. An especially stupid law clerk asks an especially stupid question for no other reason than to allow Kevin Spacey to provide some obvious expository dialogue to the audience (a law clerk who doesn’t understand a basic concept like “change of venue” would never be working for a hotshot lawyer like Buckley). Finally, the unsympathetic judge’s name is Judge Noose. JUDGE. NOOSE.
I also found the racially charged mob mentality scenes and KKK resurgence stuff to be exaggerated and unrealistic for the mid-90’s, but I have to step back and admit that I can’t really judge that. I’ve never lived in the Deep South. I do know that the L.A. Race Riots took place just a few years before, and that race relations were definitely a relevant contemporary dialogue. Even now I’d like to think we live in a more enlightened age, but Youtube comments have shattered that comfortable myth for me. There are still a lot of ignorant, racist scumbags out there, so for all I know this aspect of the film could be right on target.
Despite any real or perceived problems A Time To Kill may have, I still think it’s a terrific movie. The huge ensemble cast includes so many great performances. Samuel L. Jackson in particular is phenomenal, and I love that Sandra Bullock, Donald Sutherland, Kurtwood Smith, Chris Cooper, Charles S. Dutton, and Emmet Walsh have supporting roles.
A Time To Kill undoubtedly shares a lot of DNA with To Kill A Mockingbird. Both are based on successful novels. The events of both stories are set into motion by the rape of a girl. And most obviously, the plot and protagonists of both films are parallel — a white lawyer defending a black client, while facing deep-seated racial opposition and an unsympathetic jury. Less obviously, both films also suggest that vigilante killing — what the law would call manslaughter or murder — is justifiable when the situation requires it.
Back to my jury duty. I’d like to clarify that I selected these titles before the case began, and before any details were known. I had hoped to keep the tone of this series light and breezy, but from here things took a pretty grim turn that deserves a more measured approach than my calculated flippancy. The charges in the case were indeed very serious. To serve in this jury would be a grave and solemn duty.
The defendant was a black young man, accused of raping and murdering his white girlfriend. I’d like to stress again that it is purely coincidental that this situation echoes certain aspects of my film selections, and is in no way an attempt on my part to be clever or topical. That said, there were some parallels that I couldn’t help but draw. In a room of about a hundred potential jurors, I could count the ethnic minorities on one hand. That’s probably an accurate representation of the county where I reside, and I’m not saying that anything was done wrongly, but… I can’t imagine how it would feel to be a black man in a room full of white people on whom my fate rests. I was reminded of Carl Lee Hailey’s incredulous question, “That’s a jury of my peers?!” It must be a crushing sensation.
Austin’s courtroom series will conclude in Jury Duty With Austin — Part 3.
Get ’em at Amazon:
To Kill A Mockingbird — [Blu-ray] | [DVD] | [Amazon Video]
A Time To Kill — [Blu-ray] | [DVD] | [Amazon Video]
