Archive for October, 2011

The Model Penal Code—Is Justice for Desdemona at Hand

Monday, October 31st, 2011

By Brittany Kate Melone

“It is quite possible that [Shakespeare] might have come across a Falstaff of some kind; but it’s most unlikely that he ever met a villain quite so villainous as Iago.” – Giuseppe Verdi

I am a law student in love with Shakespeare. When a professor uses the word touchstone, I think of the excessive, bombastic clown in ‘As You Like It’.  When another professor advises the class not to read about mechanical royalties, my mind flies to the blundering craftsmen in ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream‘.  The “Beyond a Reasonable Doubt” standard = BARD.  I have even from time to time found myself writing out scenes from ‘Hamlet’ from memory in my notebook during my Con Law class when my brain has reached its capacity for details about the Commerce Clause.  If you’re not convinced yet, I wrote two paragraphs about ‘Measure for Measure’ on my Criminal Law exam during my first semester of school.

Lucky for me, legal issues appear quite frequently in the Bard’s plays.  ‘Measure for Measure‘ and ‘The Merchant of Venice‘ are perhaps the two most well-known Shakespearean plays in which legal themes are pervasive.  However, even when there are no obvious parts of the law or legal system set forth in the play, a legal perspective can still be used to evaluate the action.  For example, in ‘Othello’, the character of Iago is clearly morally responsible for the deaths of Othello and Desdemona. Yet because Iago never lays a hand on either of them, it is generally believed that he would never be prosecuted for these deaths under the American legal system.

During the play, through deception and trickery, Iago slanders Desdemona, Othello’s wife, and tortures Othello with the accusation that she is having an affair with his lieutenant, Michael Cassio. Iago pollutes Othello’s mind, separating him psychologically from his wife who he loved so passionately at the start of the play. Othello is pushed to the point where he kills the innocent Desdemona and then himself. Iago’s machinations, which result in murder and suicide, are malicious and evil.  The use of the stolen handkerchief and the manipulation of both Cassio and Roderigo are just a few of the ways Iago reaches his end goal.  Iago even goes so far as to instruct Othello on how to kill Desdemona. “Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed.” There is no doubt that these malicious acts indeed directly cause Othello to murder his wife and then take his own life. But if Iago were brought before an American court today, would he face punishment?

Our legal system generally reduces all human experience to the physical, the mechanistic.  Iago never physically touches Othello or Desdemona.  He simply proclaims that he will “pour pestilence into [Othello’s] ear” in order to insure the murder of Desdemona.  It is Iago’s manipulations, not his hands, that serve his goal of exacting revenge on Othello.  He moves Othello to kill only with poisonous words.  To say that Iago is not ultimately responsible for the tragedy is to look no further than the physical body. It is a limited and narrow view, a view that would likely be taken by any American court. But has the Model Penal Code changed that?

The MPC judges criminal homicide as murder when it is committed purposely or knowingly.  A person acts purposely with respect to a material element of an offense when, if the element involves the nature of his conduct or a result thereof, it is his conscious object to engage in conduct of that nature or to cause such a result.  It was clearly Iago’s conscious object that his actions would lead Othello to kill Desdemona. But what is criminal homicide?  The MPC says that a person is guilty of criminal homicide if he purposely, knowingly, recklessly or negligently causes the death of another human being.  We know that Iago purposely acted with the conscious object to cause Othello to kill Desdemona, and that “but for” Iago’s actions Othello would not have killed his wife.  But is that the same thing as Iago causing the death of Desdemona? One generally would say no, that it was Othello who caused her death.  But if we look closely at how the MPC deals with causation, we may get a different result.

Comment 4 to Section 210.5 of the MPC, which deals with causing or aiding suicide as constituting criminal homicide, gives an example of the case of a distraught lover who threatens to kill himself if he is abandoned.  The other party perceives that the threat is genuine and may even hope for that result.  The MPC clearly states that if the other party still ends the relationship, and the distraught lover commits suicide, no criminal penalty should be imposed.  The party escapes criminal liability not on causation grounds but on the specific narrowing of liability in the case of suicide by requiring in addition to “but for” causation that the cause be by force, duress or deception.  The MPC acknowledges that the application of the “but for” or factual causation formula would not prevent a finding of causation from being made.

The crime of murder contains no such limitations on causation.  Iago’s actions could be considered the “but for” causation of Desdemona’s death.  In the case of the distraught lover, the MPC acknowledges that despite the fact that the conduct was “morally distasteful” a conviction for murder would “unduly curtail the scope of individual liberty in matters of personal choice.”  In the case of Iago, there are no such reservations about personal choice.  Indeed, all acknowledge that his conduct is morally culpable.  The MPC may actually hold Iago responsible for Desdemona’s death. Watch for the next post for the analysis of justice for Othello!

The Freedom of Information: Gratis versus Libre

Friday, October 28th, 2011

By Nicholas P. Garcia

In American political and legal discourse, freedom is a concept that gets tossed around a lot, perhaps more than any other. Interestingly, despite the centrality of this concept in the debate, the English language lacks the nuanced vocabulary to differentiate between the many different connotations of the word “free”.

This is most readily apparent in debates over the “freedom of information.” In the digital age the transfer, copying, and sharing of information is faster and easier than ever before. As a result, many have declared the current paradigm of intellectual property and copyright law to be outmoded, irrelevant, and restrictive. Lawrence Lessig, the director of the Edmond J. Safra Foundation Center for Ethics at Harvard University and a noted law professor, has claimed that 70% of young people in the United States obtain their information from currently illegal sources. Lessig, and a host of other academics, activists, and legal professionals, advocate for a “free culture” with more protections for the freedom of information that the digital age has allowed.

However, counterarguments abound and they are usually economic in nature. Opponents of the freedom of information argue that technologies and services such as BitTorrent, LimeWire, and streaming video websites prevent those who create the information in the first place from reaping the benefits of their labor.  This is about more than just getting paid; some critics of the free culture argue that allowing total freedom of information would remove the incentive of the producers of information to create more content. This, they argue, would impoverish our society as a whole.

This debate is an important one to have, and will only heat up as digital technology continues to become even more inexpensive and pervasive. However, a point that is often missed by those not deeply immersed in this debate is what exactly is meant by the word, “free,” in the phrase, “free culture” or “freedom of information.” The English language at this point fails us, and so English speakers have turned to the Romance languages to better express a critical aspect of the debate. The sort of “free” that the proponents of a “free culture” advocate for does not mean “no cost” but instead means “with little or no restriction.” They refer to this difference as the difference between gratis and libre, and it is the latter that they stress is important. Another formulation is given by Richard Stallman, an activist in the free-software movement: “Think free as in free speech, not free beer.”

Understanding this difference between “gratis” and “libre” is essential in moving the debate over freedom of information forward. Many companies, such as Netflix with its “Instant Watch” feature, are discovering that people are willing to pay for convenient modes of delivering content. But companies are not the only institutions that need to adapt; the current legal regime of copyright and intellectual property law is increasingly becoming oppressive. The law must adapt to these emerging technologies lest it be deemed increasingly irrelevant, out-dated, and unjust.

Defending Doctor Death: The Public Prosecution of Conrad Murray

Friday, October 28th, 2011

By Christian Jackson

America, here we go again.  The media has been allowed to infect yet another American courtroom.

conrad-murray

Dr. Conrad Murray is accused of administering the fatal dose of the painkiller Propofol, which led to the death of Michael Jackson on June 25, 2009.  On Monday, February 7, Judge Michael Pastor agreed to let cameras into the courtroom – provided they don’t interfere with legal proceedings.  The judge said he wanted the “absolute least intrusive placement” of TV cameras.  F.Y.I., Judge Pastor, cameras are always “intrusive,” regardless of their placement.  If that fact is not clear, just take a look at the victim’s life.  Yes, the victim, the forgotten person in this unfortunate episode.  Michael Jackson lived a life tormented by cameras.  Every moment of his existence was sacrificed to the limelight.  It consumed his childhood, corroded his adult life, and will not be denied in his death.  Jackson hated cameras so much that he covered his face, and the face of his children, on those rare occasions when he would go out in public.  The cameras contributed to the pain and anxiety that led to Michael’s dependence on sleeping aids.  How terribly backward is it that the “innocent-until-proven-guilty” defendant, hired by Jackson to provide an escape from his torment, is now subjected to the very same torment at his fair and impartial trial?

I am by no means a Conrad Murray supporter.  His actions are somewhere between negligence and callousness.  However, whether this jury convicts him or not, the American public has already and forever passed judgment on his life.  He will be judged by: whether his reactions to testimony exude innocence, whether his tears are truthful, whether he is fearful.  These are not the issues a jury should be considering.  But an American public, with no legal training or direction, has little else to contemplate.

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If convicted, Conrad Murray is unlikely to serve a single second in prison.  However the judge, the media, and public acquiescence have ensured that, regardless of the trial’s outcome, Conrad Murray will forever be a prisoner of his own infamy.  For the rest of his life, he will be known as “Dr. Death” – the man that murdered the “King of Pop.”  Life will be constant evasion of ignorant yokels that will occasionally make the connection, Jackson fans willing to pick a fight, and contrived lawsuits.  If fame is a fickle mistress, infamy is a crippling shrew.  This is a truth with which Michael Jackson was acutely familiar.  Thanks to Tinsel Town justice, Conrad Murray will have a lifetime to bond a scornful acquaintance.

The Forum Film Was A Success!

Friday, October 28th, 2011

This year’s Forum Film Festival was a great success. To read about it, check out this coverage in a number of the country’s top publications:

The Economist on “Too Big To Fail.”

The New York Times’ Dealbook on “Wall Street.”

The New York Law School’s Law and Journalism Blog on “Kramer vs. Kramer” and “Wall Street.”

The Forward and The Tablet on “Daniel.”

Capital on “Absence of Malice.”

What to Make of Occupy Wall Street

Thursday, October 27th, 2011

By Jonathan Kraft

We have watched, some of us incredulously, over the last weeks as the small protest in New York’s Zuccotti Park has turned into a global phenomenon. Occupy Wall Street now lists 1,612 different “meetups” across the globe, spanning from the obvious locales (Berkley, Seattle, Paris) to the obscure (Islamabad, Fairbanks, Almaty).

The hardest part of Occupy is in deciding exactly what it is. We know that it is a movement against the unbridled world of high finance, a rebellion against the excesses which caused the global economic downturn, excesses that, according to the movement’s organizers, whoever they are, continue virtually unrestricted today. What we do not know about the movement is its broader significance. It could be a flash in the pan, or it could be the beginning of a dynamic social movement. It could be the liberals’ answer to the tea party, or it could be completely and totally different. It could be good for President Obama, it could be bad for President Obama. It could be a well-informed push for financial regulation, it could be a messy conglomeration of disparate agendas.

The problem is that the lack of information about what exactly this movement is reflected by the media coverage of it, meaning that consumers of information are fed a whole lot of conflicting viewpoints about what the meaning of Occupy actually is. This actually serves to discredit the movement, and even make it a laughingstock in certain circles. While the movement’s website actually tries to compare Occupy to the Arab Spring, to Tahrir Square, the fact is that those movements had a simple, central message which people could rally behind. Everyone knew what those movements were about, so when it came time to make a decision as to whether to support them or not, people were faced with a black and white choice. Here, Occupy’s lack of a coherent message may have served to attract masses to Zuccotti Park, and the rallying points of demonstrations in other places, but it also serves to place the movement at the periphery of society instead of at the center.

I recently visited Zuccotti Park to try and get a sense of what exactly the movement was about, and discovered that while a significant amount of protesters were gathered inside the park, just as many gawkers, spectators, and other curious passers-by surrounded them, walking around, taking pictures, and just looking in. Some protesters made cursory efforts to try and engage these “civilians,” but the divide was clear; Occupy Wall Street is a fringe movement, for those on the fringe of society, and without a clear and unified message, the “99%” of whom the protesters speak will remain passive onlookers.

The Path to Practice: Becoming Bartleby

Tuesday, October 25th, 2011

By  Jacqueline P. McMahon

Many people don’t know this, but there are two paths to achieving a successful legal career: law school and apprenticeships.

In the past, apprenticeships were the norm for obtaining a career as a practicing attorney. The apprentice would be required to work for a number of years under his mentor until he was deemed qualified. This type of work was often referred to as law office study. Some of our most famous legal and political figures, including Abraham Lincoln, chose the path of hands-on study, instead of the attending law school. Today, seven states still recognize the apprentice model of legal education: California, Maine, New York, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, and Wyoming.

While some of these states have additional requirements for apprenticeships, for example, New York permits law office study only after the successful completion of one year at an ABA accredited law school, others have no special requirements (i.e., Virgina and Washington), and still another does not even mandate completion of a bachelor’s degree program (Vermont). It appears that the median number of years required for attainment of a “law office study certificate” (which comes in the form of a passing score on the state bar exam) is four years.

In practice, these apprenticeships take the form depicted in Melville’s short novel, Bartleby the Scrivener.

In Bartleby, Melville depicts the lifeless, pale, dull, and nearly-starved Bartleby, an apprentice, narrated by Bartleby’s mentor and a partner at a Wall Street firm in the mid-1800s. Bartleby spends his days in a dirty and dimly-lit back room, going over documents line-by-line. (And here I can’t help but picture Dickens’ Bob Cratchit, bent over his book-keeping desk illuminated by a single candle and warmed by a two-coal furnace.)

For any second-or third-year law student, the depiction sounds all-too-familiar. Summer associate programs or judicial internships generally involve long hours of researching, writing, and editing. Work in student-run journals or clinic offices demand the same. Of course, today we have fluorescent lighting and ergonomic chairs and keyboards, but the substance of the work hasn’t changed much.

In sum, aspiring lawyers are presented with two options: (1) take an exam to get into a three or four year law school program where you will work long hours in poorly lit, poorly temperature-controlled buildings, while racking up upwards of $100,000 in debt; or (2) work at a law firm performing menial, carpal tunnel-inducing work for a minimum of four years in a poorly lit cubicle, while earning a measly salary.

No wonder Bartleby “would prefer not to.”

The Law School Grading Curve: Missing the Point

Monday, October 24th, 2011

By Dan Molloy

As a student now approaching the halfway mark of my time in law school, one of the most central and influential components of my experience has been the law school-mandated grading curve.  A majority of American law schools impose a strict grading curve on all classes in which first-year law students are enrolled, setting defined, percentage-based limits on how many of each letter grade professors are permitted to assign to students.  What this curve often translates into is very few marks of “A” and “A-,” a marginally higher quantity of “B+’s,” a vast amount of “B’s” and “B-’s,” and a small required number of “C+’s.”  The curve system is inflexible to the extent that even if every student in a first-year law course of eighty students decided to write the exact same answer in the exact same words in response to an essay prompt on a final exam, defined percentages of these students would still receive “A’s,” “C+’s,” and every mark in between these two.  Curve supporters argue that the curve is a necessary tool to distinguish between the performances of students during the first year of law school, affording employers with a means of selecting the highest qualified candidates for jobs.

grades

From a practical standpoint, most students attending a particular law school have similar qualifications when entering school.  The LSAT scores and GPAs of these students are similar.  We are left to muse about why it is necessary to distinguish between students if little distinction exists between them in the first place. An American legal education is exorbitantly expensive, as many students accumulate over $200,000 of debt in financing a three-year legal education.  With so much of one’s ability to secure a job after law school hinging on first-year grades, the unfairness of a mandated curve system, where a student can receive a certain mark not because she or he deserved it but simply as a result of needing to fit into a percentage model, is unquestionable.  With students acutely aware that they are competing against each other for grades, what the curve system does is create an environment of competition where students are out for any advantage they can secure over their classmates. Materials in the library disappear and misinformation regarding course material is disseminated, as one student’s loss is another’s gain.  Is this the culture law schools are attempting to promote?

In my own experience, education has been most effective when it strives to promote an atmosphere of sharing and discussion between students and teachers in which each side comes away changed by the encounter.  Paolo Freire, the famed Brazilian educator, in his Pedagogy of the Oppressed, argues that an optimal educational philosophy is one where an instructor believes that her or his thinking can only be authenticated by a student’s thinking. Freire describes dialogue as the core feature of an education system in which students truly learn and he distinguishes between what he calls the banking and dialogical models of education: “For the anti-dialogical banking educator, the question of content simply concerns the program about which he will discourse to his students…For the dialogical, problem-posing teacher-student, the program content of education is neither a gift nor an imposition.”  To Freire, true education grants us the freedom to liberate ourselves from constraint.  When we are permitted to learn in an environment and setting in which we feel comfortable, we become human.

While Freire’s ideas are presented in the matrix of a South American society where his aim is for these ideas to inspire the poorer classes of people to rebel and liberate themselves from what he feels have been years of systematic oppression, his thoughts are compelling in the law school context as well.  I am confident in saying that most American law students who have dealt with the law school grading curve system have a strong distaste for it.  Those who tell you that they do not are simply the students who were fortunate enough to finish at the top of the class after law school’s first year.  If the sparse benefits this system distributes had not fallen to them, their tune would be different.

I realize that not everyone’s performance in law school is of the same quality and I have no qualms with distinguishing between students who have clearly demonstrated different levels of material mastery.  However, distinguishing merely for the sake of distinguishing, and doing so along such rigid and inflexible lines, seems unproductive.  Shouldn’t the central objective of a law school, or any institution of higher learning, be to put its students in the best position possible to learn and to carry the knowledge gained at such an institution into the real world?  With the mandated grading curve system, students are not motivated to learn, but rather, to climb over each other, pushing others down in pursuit of the few good marks the system allows.  It is difficult to justify such an environment as the best possible one available to facilitate learning. Freire’s ideas are intriguing to consider in a context where a system is in place that functions to limit the opportunities of many.  It seems unlikely Freire’s thinking will be incorporated into American legal education any time soon, but maybe if the legal job market worsens and less students who shoulder the massive financial undertaking of law school receive the lucrative benefits they dreamed such an education would provide, they just may say that they have had enough and start a movement with enough support to address the unfairness they continue to face.

“M”

Thursday, October 20th, 2011

By Melissa Dizdarevic

Fritz Lang’s M is a murder-mystery thriller starring Peter Lorre (also well-known for his role in Casablanca). A city unites in the search of a child murderer, and police and mobsters run concurrent investigations to bring the man to justice. The film’s legacy is influential not only in filmmaking, but also for its influence on other media.

The conversation reflected just that impact. Henry Bean, screenwriter and director of The Believer; Larry A. Gross, producer and screenwriter of We Don’t Live Here Anymore; and Sarah Williams Goldhagen, author and architecture critic from The New Republic, all came to Fordham this evening to discuss the moral and symbolic qualities that have made this film last.

Who was the protagonist?

This idea both opened and ran throughout the conversation. Bean explained that the dramatic question of this film was whether the murderer would be caught and stopped, and if so, how. The story was focused on the one character that did not appear in full until he was caught. And all the people taking part in the investigation, really everyone, was the protagonist. Even in the end, when Hans Beckert (Peter Lorre) made his pleas, he became a sympathetic psycopath–the kind of character that influenced films like Psycho. But Beckert was still making his pleas to a court of criminals, leading Gross to ask, who is really to judge this character?

Were the criminals acting morally?

Bean questioned the criminals’ motive in their investigation for the child-murderer, but other guests thought the criminals acted morally. Director Thane Rosenbaum pointed out that they were moral because they believed in a fundamental sense of right and wrong, and were morally outraged by Beckert’s crime. But Bean disagreed that those morally outraged should be the instruments of justice.

In the film there is a scene where a woman (presumably a criminal) says to “ask the mother who has lost a child” about what should be done. Rosenbaum noted that this may be the first time victim’s rights appears in film, and that there is something to be said for the satisfaction of those who were the victims. Bean strongly disagreed, explaining that such considerations do not place well in a system of justice.

The impact of modernization.

The question of the kind of justice in the film was also one that sparked a question of modernization. The guests discussed the purpose of the justice system, with some siding on the idea that the point is to escape the personal vendetta. This division was brought particularly to light in the “trial” scene where the “defense counsel” presented a modern defense, but was really presenting it to a court of vigilantes.

Modernization was also physically seen in the film. Goldhagen noted the dichotomy of the modern and sleek exterior of buildings and their rather old and cluttered interiors. This showed clearly the quickness of Germany’s modernization, and how not everything was able to “catch up” with the times. The same could be said in the film of the institutions, that the investigation techniques could not keep up with the crime. As Goldhagen also pointed out, where the murderer is finally caught is the only modern interior of a building we see. And, Gross added, he is caught in the old cluttered attic of that building!

Along with modernization was the idea of an improvement in technology. And yet, as Rosenbaum pointed out, even with all the forensic investigation the police had done, the saving grace was identification by a blind man, using his senses to solve the crime. He added that the technology provides an additional layer, for it is the repeated scenes of the toy shops and moving gadgets that provided the very lure Beckert needed to commit his crime.

The conversation closed with a mention of the closing scene of the film: the mothers of the lost children, weeping, and appearing as the vision of the Fates.

Assembly Line Justice

Thursday, October 20th, 2011

By Dov Fiskus

Over the past few decades, Congress and various administrative agencies have passed myriad broad and oftentimes trifling laws and regulations, many of which do not require the violator to have any form of mens rea—or criminal intent—in order to be found guilty. And recently, there are almost 5,000 federal crimes listed in the U.S. Code and over 300,000 federal regulations that can be punitively enforced (not to mention state and local laws and regulations!)

Authors Paul Rosenzweig and Brian W. Walsh, in their book One Nation Under Arrest, recount numerous horrifying stories about how law-abiding citizens have been prosecuted relentlessly for unknowingly violating these obscure and broadly-written laws. One example Walsh cites is of Abner Schoenwetter, a middle-class Florida seafood importer who packed lobsters from his Honduran plant in plastic instead of cardboard, a violation of Honduran Law. The U.S. went on to prosecute Schoenwetter under the Lacey Act for unwittingly violating Honduran law, even though the Honduran Attorney General advised the U.S. court that the law in question had been declared null and void in Honduras. In the shocking course of events, Schoenwetter’s case went forward and he was found guilty and sentenced to over eight years in federal prison.

Although Walsh and Rosenzweig concede that stories like this are not the norm, they nonetheless assert that they’re on the rise due to the onslaught of half-baked laws passed by Congress and various governmental agencies. While Walsh and Rosenzweig lay the blame for these horror stories on the doorstep of a gluttonous and unruly legislature (and legitimately so), I believe that equal blame can be placed on our judicial system at large. The dehumanization of the legal process is clearly on display when a hard-working and honest citizen can be treated like a hardened criminal all because he unknowingly violated an obscure law. It is most frightening to me when the people involved in handing down such verdicts are able to detach themselves from reality and march lockstep with the law in the name of upholding the overarching legal system.

“Kramer v. Kramer”: Love & Loss

Thursday, October 20th, 2011

By Christian M.

In 1979, Kramer v. Kramer largely introduced America to the broader cultural experience of custody cases. With these words Thane Rosenbaum, the director of the Forum Film Festival, begins tonight’s discussion of this powerful film.

The Academy Awards winning film tells the story of an unconventional family, torn apart by a sudden divorce. Mother Joanna Kramer (Meryl Streep) decides in the opening act, after years of neglect and unhappiness, to not only leave her husband, but also her son. Ted Kramer (Dustin Hoffman) is seen coming home late from work, as usual, and is completely taken by surprise that Joanna would want to leave him. Taking the elevator down, Joanna tears parts her family and old life, but not before saying:

“I am not [a good mother for Billy]! I’m a terrible mother! I’m an awful mother. I yell at him all the time. I have no patience. No…No. He’s better off without me.”

For tonight’s discussion of the film, the panel is made up of the film’s director, Robert Benton; the writer of the similarly-titled novel, Avery Corman; and by the noted divorce attorney, Raoul Felder.

Rosenbaum starts by asking Corman what the novel was based on, whether it was based on someone he knew, on something he was reading, and whether he knew that he picked on a cultural moment that was just different than what we all have experienced about what the legal system does about divorce?

Corman answers with, “Yes.” He had become a young father at the time he wrote the novel, and he was home as a freelancer with two children. His desire to write the novel was connected to the gender politics of the time. Although he agreed politically about what was said about women in the marketplace, he couldn’t square that up with what was going on in his own home life, as a father. There was so much anger going on at the time towards fathers, the unreported precinct, as Corman calls it. His second motivation for writing the book was the goal of nullification, neutralization of the father’s role, which in that time especially, had a colored stamp.

In the movie, Ted Kramer is depicted as a workaholic, working long nights in order to “bring home the bacon.” By virtue of this, he has lost the connection he had with his wife and more importantly; he also lost her love for him. When she leaves him, he is left alone to raise his son Billy, who is only seven years old. While deprived of much sleep and completely lost in finding his way in the kitchen, Ted starts the next morning trying to make French Toast for Billy, characteristically, he utterly fails at this simple task.

Benton, who wrote the screenplay (adapted from Corman’s novel), is asked:

Did you think you were making a cultural film that was broader than the art itself, did you think there was a political statement in there, did you think you were intervening into the feminist movement when you were raising these questions of the complexity of the new family of America? Or is this just an interesting film with young actors that wounded up becoming unbelievably famous?

BENTON: When we were beginning to start filming the movie, my son was eleven years old. After finishing the picture we were about to go skiing. After a bad day, I came home and said to my wife: ‘I completely screwed this wonderful book. I have ruined the career of otherwise terrific actors, I have made it impossible for a brilliant actress to continue, I will probably never work again.’

When you’re in the midst of making something, you hope it’s good, and you have days when you think it’s good, and days when you think it’s awful. But looking back I think it would be extremely difficult not to make a good movie from this extraordinary book. I think the choice of Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep was exactly the right choice. I cannot image two people who would be more well suited for those particular roles. And Billy (Justin Henry) was just a gift handed to us.’

ROSENBAUM: So Raoul, take us back to the 1970s as a divorce lawyer handling custody cases. How rare a case was this, when, obviously Avery and Robert picked up on something that was taking place in the legal system, and there was a story in this, but this particular type of story with these particular facts. How rare was this?

FELDER: Well, there has been a sea change in the law since then. In those days, you would pretty much have to show the mother was unfit for custody. Now, it’s no longer the case. All over America, the only test is: “What is in the best interest of the child.” Simply said, (young) children went with their mother.

Felder agrees that Kramer v. Kramer was an interesting case, but he couldn’t see how Ted lost. Of course, as an experienced family lawyer (practicing for over 40 years), Felder would have done the cross-examination different. For instance:

FELDER [Hypothetically]: ”Joanna Kramer, when you got married, you said: ‘I take you to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, to love and to cherish, for as long as we both shall live.’ Forever was eight years?! Now, it didn’t work out Joanna. How do you know you are not going to damage Billy again? And walk out on him again?”

Joanna [Hypothetically]: ‘Well, I know that …’

FELDER [Hypothetically]: “Yes, but when you got married you said that it would be forever, and you broke that sacred promise. How can we know you won’t do the same to your promise now to Billy? And who is this lover you are seeing now? Does he have a steady job and will he be able to take care of Billy? For all we know, it may be the neighborhood drug-dealer!”

Aside from being a movie with great actors who deliver great performances, Kramer v. Kramer really had a cultural significance, truly then in 1979, but it’s effects are still felt today. The movement that Kramer v. Kramer started was that more men would go to court, and ask for the custody of their child. In divorce cases were there was no custody battle, you had more men asking for better visitation rights than normal. By this story they were given permission to be more active fathers, like Ted Kramer. Another good side that came from it, is that women were willing to let that happen. It was exactly what they had wanted, namely, more participation by the men.

CORMAN: You had a cultural element that didn’t happen ever before. One family court judge even said that Kramer v. Kramer was being cited in proceedings as though it was law. It’s a movie!

Both the novel and movie meant something to people and in many respects, it changed lives. In a different sense, the movie shows the change of Ted and Joanna’s morality, their live guiding principles. What is according to them the right thing to do? For Ted the answer to this question changes radically.

As a noted long hours worker, Ted is his boss’ main man. He tells him, “You can count on me 25 hours a day and you can count on me 8 days a week. I have never let anything at home come into the office. When I go outside, I’m on top of my work. I’m a survivor.”

But when Ted starts to overcome his self-centeredness and starts to accept that Joanna is not coming back (as it were, accepts the content of her letter to Billy), his change begins. His bond with Billy, which was fragile at first, blossoms, and father and son, parent and child, start to know each other, have a daily living rhythm together, have fun, laugh and yell at each other. The second part of his change is visible when Billy injures himself by falling down and Ted carries him to a hospital. When the doctor tells him that he can wait outside while he takes some stitches, Ted refuses to go.

In the movie, Ted loses the case because of the presumption that a mother is better suited to take care of a young child. But this legal assumption is not really what is central, most relevant. No, what this movie really is about is said beautifully by Benton:

“This is not a movie about the law. This is a movie about forgiveness. This is a movie about love and about somebody finding the center of life, that he had not paid attention to. It is not about winning or losing a law case. It is about mercy, and that love is not romantic love, but empathy. The tear that happens in the beginning of the picture, is mended. They have become a family again. Not a conventional family, they’ll never get back together.”