CHANGING IMAGES OF LAW IN FILM & TELEVISION CRIME
STORIES, by Timothy O. Lenz. New
York: Peter Lang, 2003. 208 pp.
Paper $29.95. ISBN: 0-8204-5792-2.
Reviewed by William Haltom, Department of Politics and Government,
University of Puget Sound. Email:
haltom@ups.edu.
This seventh volume in the Politics, Media, & Popular
Culture series may prove useful as a supplement to undergraduate courses that
touch on crime in the United States or as a resource available in libraries
if students are provided guidance lest the monograph's framework and the author's
method mislead the unwary.
The author describes his framework early and clearly. He categorizes dramatizations, mostly
in movies, by the degree to which they resemble liberal imagery, conservative
imagery, or images between those stereotypes. Dr. Lenz labels liberal those films or shows that depict or
endorse Herbert Packer's Due Process Model, that favor rehabilitation or indeterminate
sentencing, or that prefer judicial review, legal autonomy, or professional
administration of criminal justice. Movies or television programs that prescribe Packer's Crime Control Model, endorsing
punishment of criminals or determinate sentences, or espousing law responsive
to mass sentiments or accountable to voters, Professor Lenz takes for conservative
imagery. Those loosely defined
"poles" leave room for other images that the author presumes to be intermediate.
The author associates these archetypes and the intermediate category
with historical eras. Accordingly,
he finds that liberal images are associated with films of the 1930s and around
1960. Conservative images, by contrast, have
been more prominent since the 1970s; while the transitional 1960s and early
1970s, accompanied by waning regard for liberal views and waxing support for
conservatism, shaped admixtures of liberal and conservative imagery. Lenz speculates that a new transitional
state may be in the offing as criticisms of current criminal justice conservatism
mount.
Lenz detects themes in cinematic or televised productions
by closely assessing the plotlines that he then interprets consistent with
his categorization of images and periodization of productions. Some of his descriptions of movie plots
are quite lengthy, such as his treatment of such classics as "12 Angry Men"
or "To Kill a Mockingbird," so this monograph may launch some term papers. The narratives are accurate and representative
of main story lines and include some peripheral but meaningful scenes and
characters. Long or short, his
sketches of films and television programs, such as "Dragnet" and "Law &
Order," usually yield messages that Lenz then fits to liberal/Due Process
or conservative/Crime Control themes.
Using this kind of framework and methodology entails perils
that will be evident to scholars, but perhaps less obvious to naifs. First, most dramatizations emphasize one
or more themes but feature opposing perspectives implicitly, as expectations
upon which dramaturgs will rely in crafting their productions.
Because Lenz's "polar" images are more congeries than categories, any
feature film will likely project images from one pole, from the other pole,
and points in between. Of course some facets of criminal justice
need little or no emphasis to be accessible to mass moviegoers, so the presence
of this theme or the dearth of that theme need not betoken much in any instance.
Were the presence or predominance of themes measured in some manner,
the computation might signal a moral of the cinematic story-but it might also
indicate acceptable complexity of a character or an innovative, insurgent
representation to be tested, or even bested, amid the film.
The status or import of any asserted theme, it follows, is problematic. Lenz is sometimes interpretive and sometimes
impressionistic, an approach that generates insights but tempts both the author
and his readers to overlook opposing premises, baseline norms, and clashing
values that make many movies rich and interesting. Readers thus will find in this monograph a wealth of ideas
but should not use it for confirmation or authority.
The author's elaboration of themes is often rather Procrustean.
For example, Lenz has obvious reasons to assert that the multiple "Dirty
Harry" movies denigrate liberal legalism and liberal politics.
Beyond the obvious, however, each of the motion pictures featuring
Harry Callahan (Clint Eastwood) also reinforces liberal politics, the Due
Process Model, and images inconsistent with either of Lenz's ideological "poles." Inspector Callahan's partners in the first
three films of the series are Hispanic (in "Dirty Harry"), African-American
(in "Magnum Force"), or female
(in "The Enforcer" after Callahan's Italian American male partner is stabbed),
and each projects the mettle of a member of a previously under-represented
group in law enforcement. This strikes me as a liberal message that might induce some
in the audience to believe that desegregation-even (in "the Enforcer") affirmative
action-might result in an influx of courage and competency into the police
ranks that tend, across the series, to be led by craven incompetents. Harry Callahan attacks newfangled notions
and resists "progress," but he also learns the error of some of his ways even
as he reasserts at great muzzle velocity and caliber the superiority of his
cowboy ways. Moreover, judges
and administrators (in the Lenz liberal column) and elected officials and
their handlers (who likely align on the conservative pole) frequently appear
loathsome when they are not inept, which could easily foster selective confirmation
of expectations by a viewer/interpreter. At the very least, reasonable movie-watchers will disagree
about which theme resounds after the credits, and students relying upon the
interpretations offered in this book may build their term papers on controversial
presumptions or methods without realizing they are doing so.
The selection of motion pictures and television programs
should trouble any reader familiar with movies of a given era. Given the volume of movies that are produced,
a number that have some focus on criminal justice must be neglected, of course,
in a short book. This imperative
leaves readers with less history of early cinematic creations that, in concert
with radio, pulp fiction, newspapers and police gazettes, expressed conventional
beliefs, morals, and themes. For
example, most students will never have heard of "Adam's Rib" (1949) and will
be unaware of its multiple liberal and conservative themes regarding criminal
justice that are embedded in the comedic battle of the sexes between Spencer
Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. For
a later example, 1950's television teemed with Crime Control series and specials
about which younger readers will likely be unaware. Elders may know about "Sky King"
(1953-54), "Highway Patrol" (1955-59), "The Untouchables" (1959-63), as well
as the first "Dragnet" (1952-59)-not to mention the ubiquitous Western on
TV and in movies of the 1940s and early 1950s, with varying "conservative"
and "liberal" views of criminal law-and so will question any claim that Due
Process or liberal values predominated circa 1960. Students probably will accept such claims uncritically, and
they will have inadequate perspective and little evidence with which to counter
Lenz's assessment of developments within the popular media. Nonetheless, students might find this
monograph a good place to begin.
The author reasonably defends his choices of films, but the
movies passed over will trouble the informed reader and, worse, not trouble
the less informed reader. "Anatomy
of a Murder" was a sprawling 1959 motion picture that vindicated some liberal
images and Due Process in keeping with Lenz's interpretation of that era,
but the film actually expresses a more complex set of themes-James Stewart
coached an accused Ben Gazzara into a defensible position after informing
Gazzara that the "unwritten law" would not shield him from a murder conviction,
and Otto Preminger ended the movie with a demystification of Stewart's concoction
of Gazzara's "irresistible impulse."
Lenz mentions "Anatomy of a Murder" but discusses "12 Angry Men" and
"To Kill a Mockingbird" at far greater length, a choice that is defendable
but that nonetheless deprives readers of a fuller appreciation of the rich
blend of liberal and conservative issues.
Another good example could be found in "And Justice For All" (1979),
released during the period of alleged conservative ascendancy, which lampooned
both Crime Control and Due Process to suggest that everyone was out of order.
Lenz probably understands some implications of Stuart Rosenberg's "Cool
Hand Luke" (1967) approximately correctly in comparison with "I am a Fugitive
from a Chain Gang" (1932), but the contrast between Rosenberg's 1967 prison
film and his "Brubaker" of 1980 would contradict Lenz's era-oriented predictions. It would not task close observer of popular media to generate
a lengthy list of movies whose theme runs counter to the supposedly dominant
imagery in each period.
REFERENCE:
Packer, Herbert. 1968. THE LIMITS OF THE CRIMINAL SANCTION. Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press.
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Copyright 2004 by the author, William Haltom.