There’s certainly something funny going on in Norman
Jewison’s film “…And Justice for All.” It is no doubt strange, as the
film’s story revolves around a colorful cast of characters including a
suicidal judge, a deeply depressed attorney, a cross dressing mugger,
and a young hippy experiencing the worst year ever. But perhaps what
viewers will find funny is that there is something disturbingly true
about this black comedy courtroom drama, starring Al Pacino as a
defiant defense attorney struggling to make the most out of an immoral
and woefully ignorant legal system. Based in Baltimore, Maryland
during the late 1970’s, the film follows Pacino’s character, Arthur
Kirkland, a man who relentlessly pursues justice, even to his own
professional detriment. Openly critical of his profession and the
individuals and factions found therein, Kirkland shines as the moral
attorney of this tale. Through his eyes, the audience comes to
understand his growing bewilderment, frustration, and anger with the
justice system. What’s obvious to Kirkland, the filmmakers, and
(hopefully by the end) the audience is that the justice system is
seriously messed up. As Kirkland ironically sums it up early in the
film, “Being honest doesn’t have much to do with being a lawyer…”
The film opens with Kirkland patiently sitting in a
dimly lit, filthy prison cell awaiting his release as his cellmate
urinates on him. Funny, right? Well, not quite. Earlier, Kirkland was
found in contempt of court for throwing a punch at Judge Fleming
(wonderfully portrayed by John Forsythe). And why would a highly
educated, well dressed, 30-something attorney attempt to derail his
career in this fashion? Well, because it was simply the right thing to
do. It turns out Kirkland spent countless hours pulling together
evidence to exonerate his young client who had spent the better part
of the year falsely imprisoned for two crimes he didn’t commit, and
Judge Fleming subsequently threw out the evidence due to tardiness. So
begins the exploration of the legal system’s obliviousness to the
backstory and emotional complexity of those subject to its wrath.
Over the course of the movie, Kirkland observes how
none of the attorneys or judges really care about the people they
represent and rule over. To the judges, most are guilty until proven
innocent, regardless of where they come from or what they have been
through. And to the attorneys, their clients simply represent dollar
amounts which dictate the amount of effort and quality time put into
each case. Those with money can afford to dictate their desires to
their attorneys, while the young (likely broke) men in the courtroom
hallways are urged by their lawyers to cut a deal and cop a plea. And
for the lawyer, it’s on to the next one. The film also takes time to
consider the consequences of each role. Judge Fleming, for instance,
quickly finds himself on the other side of the bench as a defendant
after he is accused of rape. Ironically, he chooses to hire Kirkland,
even though they share a mutual disdain for one another. And
Kirkland’s partner, a brilliant defense attorney, falls into a deep
depression after a former client accused of murder that gets acquitted
murders again. Again, Kirkland astutely notes that even though defense
lawyers defend guilty people daily, only the lawyer who is profoundly
affected by the negativity of it all gets threatened by the ethical
committee with sanctions and possible disbarment.
Jewison spends quite a bit of time illustrating the
many contradictions present in this legal system. Disturbing as it may
be, in the end, to be a moral attorney may mean to choose not to be an
attorney at all. Forced to represent a guilty judge or face
disbarment, Kirkland decides on the latter, sacrificing his
professional career for his soul. “You’re out of order! You’re out of
order! The whole trial is out of order! They’re out of order!” Are
Kirkland’s accusations as he gets dragged out of the courtroom
directed at the legal system, the legal professionals, or society (and
by extension the audience) for allowing justice to be hampered by
technicalities, politics, and the incessant bureaucracy of it all?
This seminal question is one that law students and practitioners need
to contemplate and continually ask themselves, which is why this is
such an important film to see. Funny as it may be, I couldn’t help
feeling shaken up by the portrait painted in this film. Kirkland
summed it up best when he stated, “What this committee is doing, in
theory, is highly commendable. In practice, it sucks.” I couldn’t
agree more.
- Matthew R. Taylor