in the form of Horace Rumpole and James Kavanagh QC,1 these are only two of the many televised incarnations that the British lawyer has enjoyed since 1958.
Judge John Deed: British TV Lawyers in the 21st Century Steve Greenfield, Guy Osborn, & Peter Robson Sidebar: Judge John Deed • Aired o January 9, 2001 – January 18, 2007, BBC One • Cast o Martin Shaw (Judge John Deed) o Jenny Seagrove (Jo Mills) o Barbara Thorn (Rita “Coop” Cooper) o Simon Chandler (Sir Ian Rochester) The Context Although the bewigged lawyer is familiar beyond the shores of the United Kingdom in the form of Horace Rumpole and James Kavanagh QC,1 these are only two of the many televised incarnations that the British lawyer has enjoyed since 1958. As in the U.S. and to a lesser extent Europe, TV lawyer series have long been a staple of British television. The would-be successors to the late Leo McKern and John Thaw have not been slow in coming forward and in the 21st century there have been no less than seven lawyer shows featuring British law and lawyers. These have included a whole range of styles. As with the previous 30 shows and series between 1958 and 2000, the current crop of fictional lawyers cover the fighter for justice working alone or with some technical assistance as Perry Mason did in the 1950s and 1960s and Matlock did in the 1980s2—The Brief. They include the office format with subplots and insights into the individual lives and motivations of a range of major and minor characters in the mode popularized in the 1980s by L.A. Law3—New Street Law, Outlaws, Trust, and Kingdom. One show is a pared-down courtroom only setting where we hear only the evidence in the case and never leave the courtroom as shows like You, the Jury pioneered in the 1950s—The Courtroom. Finally we have pseudo-reality shows in the style of Judge Judy4 where real disputes are aired in a brief and informal setting before a judge with
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Electronic copy available at: http://ssrn.com/abstract=1335169
“character” and the ability to conduct confrontational “car crash” television. The development of cheap technology means that unlike most of their predecessors who exist only in the memory of viewers, the 21st century exploits of Jack Roper of New Street Law (John Hannah), Bruce Dunbar of Outlaws (Phil Daniels), Peter Kingdom of Kingdom (Steven Fry) and their like are permanently available on DVD to those who missed the original airings. Law show producers have a marked preference for using well-established actors or stars in the main roles to build on pre-existing fan bases. Thus we have people with track records from previous series—in Trust the main protagonist, Robson Green, had several successful series behind him like Soldier Soldier and Touching Evil as well as a career as a pop balladeer with 3 British Number 1’s. Similarly, a stand-up comedian, Alan Davies, had experienced success with the murder mystery Jonathan Creek before he took on the role of a brilliant but wayward advocate in The Brief (the title is taken from the slang for a lawyer). One of the stars of the cult film Quadrophenia (1979), Phil Daniels has gone a long way since he sent his scooter off Beachy Head. He went on to success in Breaking Glass (1980) and Chicken Run (2000) before he played cynical legal aid lawyer Bruce Dunbar in the first look at legal practice in the lower courts—the excellent Outlaws. Kingdom is the pet project of the ubiquitous film actor, comedian, Quiz Show and Award ceremony presenter and allround British “national treasure,” Steven Fry. Outlaws started filming a second series well before the end of the first run due to his personal charisma rather than the show’s critical success with a third series following in autumn 2008. Finally screen actor John Hannah from Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994) and Sliding Doors (1998) teamed up with comedian John Thompson to head up the radical political chambers in New Street Law. So we can see that while the formats varied, they all took on board the advice of the producer of the successful 1990s series Kavanagh QC, Chris Kelly, who suggested that in developing the
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Electronic copy available at: http://ssrn.com/abstract=1335169
idea of a big budget lawyer series, it was crucial to have a star name to secure backing for the project. The British 21st century fictional series have covered a range of issues from the traditional serious crimes of murder and rape to corporate wrongdoing, planning and environmental problems. The perspective has been constant. We are in the corner of the wronged person. Our lawyer protagonist is fighting impossible odds, prejudice, and a mountain of damning evidence to clear the name and secure the freedom of a victim. Order is restored and the malfunctioning system shows itself capable of delivering a form of justice. This has been the standard default mode of TV lawyering over the years in Britain just as it has been in the U.S. What has varied has been the amount of insight we get into the lives of the characters. Some, like Outlaws and New Street Law, have been gritty in style and content, while others like Trust and Kingdom have been rather more escapist. Steven Fry identifies the latter as being akin to warm cocoa and relaxation on a Sunday evening: “Kingdom does promise viewers a glimpse of the locations I love, and an hour in front of the television that will wash them in colors, textures, landscapes and characters that delight.” Here Comes the Judge Into this familiar and comfortable world, with its self-righting mechanism for dealing with social problems through our dedicated lawyers, comes an altogether more unsettling prospect. Judge John Deed shares many of the characteristics of the other series mentioned. It has a well-established lead actor with a series pedigree in Martin Shaw, action hero Ray Doyle from the British version of Starsky and Hutch, Miami Vice, and The Professionals. The new series has a familiar “heritage TV” setting with barristers in wigs and gowns and the main protagonist clad in an impressive red gown and wing collar. This series comes from the pen of Gordon Newman and is superficially the same as everything else while at the same time radically different. It is novel in that it is told from the
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perspective of the trial judge rather than the defense counsel. This perspective had been tried once before in British television in a 6-episode summer “filler” series Mr. Justice Duncannon in the 1960s. This was based on the light comic writings of Judge Henry Cecil, the author of Brothers in Law, but only the scripts remain. Modern audiences are more likely to be familiar with the judge as protagonist through Judging Amy5 and her travails with her mother, Maxine Gray. With Judge John Deed, though, we get rather more than a shift of view from below the bench to behind it. An understanding of the significance of the change of focus requires consideration in the context of the creator of the series and his earlier work. Writer and producer Gordon Newman’s reputation derives principally from his work on the British series Law and Order. This series of four interlinked episodes from the 1970s put the legal system under the microscope. It looked at a bank robbery and how it was processed through the system. It also looked at the crucial participants and entitled its four 90-minute episodes “A Villain’s Tale,” “A Policeman’s Tale,” “A Brief’s Tale,” and “A Prisoner’s Tale.” In each of these Chaucer-like stories, we have a take on law and life that is both downbeat and cynical. They are portrayed in a neo-documentary style. The lighting is subdued, the sound is naturalistic, and the acting style is muted. Each version of the justice system leaves us in no doubt that the whole world is trying to work a scam. Nobody does their job honestly. People betray their colleagues and the ethos of their profession whether they be police, lawyers, or thieves. The police fabricate evidence and invent confessions to secure convictions. This process was recently shown in the retro drama Life on Mars (which involved a modern-day police officer transported back to the much more robust police tactics of 1973). Law and Order was credited with helping bring about major changes to the way in which the police conduct interviews, including the requirement that they be taped. All this found expression in the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984 which introduced an up-to-date equivalent of Miranda rights in Britain. It was,
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however, over 20 years before Gordon Newman returned to the theme of systemic corruption in the institutions of the legal system. In this instance, the series is “created, written and produced” by Newman. The vehicle is both improbable but at the same time astutely realized. Newman’s political critique is enfolded in the life of a sympathetic, charismatic lawyer with an interesting private life and a commitment to his version of justice. Judge John Deed When we first encounter Deed he conforms to the standard expectations of the television lawyer. He resembles at first blush that other successful TV lawyer of the 1990s Kavanagh QC. Prior to the untimely death of John Thaw, the actor who played James Kavanagh for 6 seasons, there was discussion of elevating his character to the Bench. In fact, the makers of Judge John Deed seem to have taken this possible life plan of Kavanagh and moved it on. Kavanagh as we got to know him was a brilliant lawyer. He was suspicious and slightly disrespectful of authority. He was a bit of a maverick. This upward judicial move made sense in standard career terms in a way that would have been inconceivable for Horace Rumpole. Alas, it never took place and instead we have a brand new character unveiled to the public in January 2001. John Deed is, of course, a brilliant lawyer. Like Kavanagh, he is suspicious, disrespectful of authority, and a bit of a maverick. So far, nothing unexpected. The question that emerges for anyone who has followed Gordon Newman’s career was “What on earth was Newman doing getting involved in this most formulaic of dramatic vehicles, the television lawyer hero?” This is a milieu where the system works and allows us to believe that modern day capitalism can resolve the social problems it throws up—a view not really in tune with Newman’s earlier bleak outlook. The answer lies in the perspective on the levers of power in Judge John Deed. Our eponymous hero is a fighter for justice. Unlike the others, though, he is not an outsider. He is doing it from a relatively unpromising position within the system.
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Unlike standard fighters for justice, he cannot choose the battles. Judges tend to sit in single areas covering a limited range of cases. This problem has been solved, of course, by a judicious selection of the kinds of issues that appear before the judge. It is one thing, however, to bring a series of distinctive and worthwhile issues of justice before a judge. The question arises as to how one inserts any drama around the judicial process into his role. As we know from film, the role of the judge is limited. From 12 Angry Men (1957) through Kramer v Kramer (1979) to Philadelphia (1993), the role of the judge is to allow others to speak. Occasionally questions may not be asked and lines of inquiry not pursued. The strategies to be adopted in court, however, are determined by prosecution and defense lawyers. The actual decisions as to guilt or innocence in the kinds of cases featured on our screens are taken principally by juries. The role of the judge appears to be little more than directing the traffic. Deed is different. The Judge Acts as Solomon Like its British predecessors, Rumpole of the Bailey and Kavanagh QC, each episode is effectively freestanding but with some narrative continuity. Each contains three elements: case, office, and family life. There is a basic central case on which Deed is involved, often together with a minor case. There is also the ongoing equivalent of the office with Deed under fire from the Lord Chancellor’s Office and his fellow judges. He is supported by his personal assistant Coop as well as a police friend, but is routinely betrayed by other court functionaries. Finally there are his relationships with his lawyer ex-wife, lawyer daughter, Appeal Court judge ex-father-in-law, Sir Joseph Channing, and a string of on-off lovers. The legal issues that John Deed confronts are like a list of current “social controversies.” The cases encompass racism (“Exacting Justice,” “Hard-Gating”), domestic violence (“Rough Justice”), corporate responsibility to workers (“Duty of Care,” “Separation of Power”), the care of the elderly (“Hidden Agenda”), diplomatic immunity (“Political
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Expediency”), police powers (“Abuse of Power”), a Menendez style murder charge (“Nobody’s Fool”), patient consent to a medical procedure (“Everyone’s Child,” “Lost Youth”), personal injuries (“Health Hazard,” “Separation of Power,” “Silent Killer”), judicial corruption (“Judicial Review”), police corruption (“Lost and Found”), paedophilia (“In Defence of Others”), control of the media (“Popular Appeal”), direct political action (“Exacting Justice,” “My Daughter Right or Wrong”), vaccine damage (“One Angry Man,” “Heart of Darkness,” “Evidence of Harm”) and war crimes (“War Crimes”). Newman has expressed surprise that his work is controversial. Given that Judge John Deed involves a shadowy world of hidden levers of power and whispered words in the “right ear” to secure the “right result” in the operation of justice, this sentiment seems disingenuous. Newman’s approach allows Deed to dictate how the cases are presented. His most obvious trait is to be an additional counsel in the courtroom. He asks the questions he thinks the barristers should have asked. In “Exacting Justice” he even engineers a statement from a killer traumatized by the death of his daughter and beyond caring about whether he lives or dies. The statement causes the jury to recant their original guilty verdict and find the accused not guilty of murder or even manslaughter. In “Duty of Care,” he enquires about the level of training received by the worker killed on a demolition job. In the same episode, he suggests that the manslaughter charges which have been dropped by the Crown Prosecution Service should be reinstated, thus changing the whole complexion. He twists arms to discourage certain actions and has a much more active role than any trial judge of modern times in the British justice system. The Judge Resists the State The key to the Judge John Deed dynamic are the “real” forces that exist in British society. Beneath the obvious surface of a courtroom there are deeper forces at work—none of them mentioned in the syllabi of law schools. These are broadly encapsulated in the British
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Establishment which appears in the form of the Lord Chancellor’s Office as well as the Foreign Office and the Prime Minister’s office. The others forces at work below the surface include the Media, Fundamentalism, Big Money, and Foreign Influence. Almost all the forces that Judge Deed has to resist come in capital letters. It may be over a quarter of a century since Gordon Newman pointed out the corruption in the institutions of the British state, but he has not mellowed in his stance. The world of Newman and Deed consists of interconnecting levers and strings being pulled. Behind the formal relationships between the judiciary, the civil service, and Government, there are a set of interests whose exercise is subtle yet effective. At its simplest, the court clerks decide which judge gets particular cases—not on a random basis but on the discreet orders from their superiors. They are denizens of the Ministry of Justice (until recently called the Lord Chancellor’s Department or LCD). Part of this stems from the strange and anomalous position of the head of the judiciary, the Lord Chancellor, who is first and foremost a politician and incidentally a judge. He is a political appointment and in Deed’s world responsible for ensuring that the “national interest” is served in the courts. In this loaded struggle for the “national interest,” tricky cases must be dealt with by a “sound” judge who can be “counted on” to make the right decision. The List Manager at the court is under instruction to call the LCD when Deed does something out of the ordinary such as snatching a case another judge was set to hear. A man at the LCD talks of having a word “up the road” about developments, that is, with his superiors. The judge’s official chauffeur keeps an eye on the judge’s movements and reports back to the LCD. Deed, though, is prepared to fight back and make sure such cases come to him. So we find him in constant conflict with those who assign cases. Since the “national interest” does not have a formal existence, he is able to fight for the alternative principle of “Deed’s justice” by seeking to retain cases or get them assigned to him.
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This critique of the State might be hard to swallow were it not mixed in with the decisions of the Establishment to include moral and personal feelings along with the broader “public good.” The process is personalized. Hence, we have the Lord Chancellor’s chief administrator, Sir Ian Rochester, suffering the embarrassment of Deed having an affair with his wife without making much effort to cover it up. The motives, then, to reduce Deed’s role are not just political but also personal. Deed though is no wide-eyed innocent. Just like those who would bring him down, he is prepared to use his own version of the “old boy network.” This involves reliance on his old university friend Row Colemore who is fortunately now Assistant Police Commissioner in London. Colemore is close to power too and a source of vital information as to the real motives behind those seeking to prevent Deed from sitting on certain cases. His PA Rita “Coop” Cooper provides a counter-intelligence service through her fellow justice system clerical workers, as well as occasional subversion of the administration in the interests of “Deed justice.” She ironically adopts the terminology she claims some of the Circuit judges use for them—POLEs—people of low esteem. Deed is also happy to persuade Jo Mills to use her networks in the Crown Prosecution Service to get criminal charges resurrected which Deeds feels are more in tune with justice. With the Establishment unable to operate out in the open, the scene is set for the conflict between these two versions of justice to unfold.
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The Judge Is Human One thing that unites our judge with other modern day fictional lawyers is that he is not a remote figure on a pedestal who arrives at his judgments through some kind of lofty intellectual process. We see him in conversation with his lovers, daughter, and PA discussing the issues involved in cases and how he should decide them. Coop provides Deed with an almost Greek chorus-like route into the minds and thoughts of ordinary people. He is also identifiably human and most definitely not an ascetic. He is divorced and has a lawyer daughter. In addition, when we first encounter him he is in a potential sexual relationship with a senior barrister who appears in his court from time to time. This provides a constant source of tension. Deed sees himself as irresistible to women. The series finds him, indeed, enjoying great success at persuading women to sleep with him. This notion of judges having sex lives is a novel one in TV lawyer drama. It allows a new set of motivations and dramatic tensions to be played out where Deed’s judgment of various women is affected by his sexual relationships with them. Charlie Deed, his daughter, lives in the shadow of her father. When we first encounter her, she is an environmental and animal rights activist. She goes from law student to a young assistant in the chambers of Deeds’ on-off lover, widow Jo Mills. Her father is, if anything, an embarrassment to her. His corporate lawyer ex-wife, Georgina, also finds his charm difficult to resist but his serial infidelity intolerable. The daughter of an Appeal Court judge, she has provided an entrée to Deed into the charmed circle of the bourgeoisie and been betrayed by him. Deed is a product of his background and time. Coming from a working class family and educated in the 1960s, he seems to have been bypassed by the second wave of feminism in his radical politics. His attitude to women and his cavalier treatment of them may derive from his egocentricity. He is not a perfect human being. He is flawed in his own
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Owner 25/7/08 12:36 Comment: You may want to clarify what this sentence means as it was rather unclear as it is a bit of a non sequitur.
relationships—witness his failed marriage and problematic relationships with his daughter and on-off lovers. Deed seems to resemble Jed Ward in Class Action (1991). Jed also cared about “the people” as a class but not about individuals as such, including his daughter. That to an extent could sum up the approach of John Deed. It may be that the underlying thrust of his need to conquer all the women we see him involved with is a product of class envy. As a working class lad made good, he is confronted by a wave of rich available women on whom he can release his frustration at the unchanging nature of the system of power. Tellingly, the only attractive woman with whom he does not seek to have a sexual relationship, Coop, comes, like him, from modest beginnings. Assessing the Judge The audience for this mélange of intrigue, sex, and good old-fashioned legal conflict has been impressive. Judge John Deed was shown between January 2001 and January 2007 in 5 seasons running to 29 episodes of 90 minutes each. They were shown midweek on the advert free BBC and attracted an impressive average audience of 6.4 million—in excess of 30% of viewing households. With the diversity of channels now in 21st century Britain, audiences above 5 million are counted as excellent. Recent blockbuster series like Big Brother in their heyday have achieved between 4.6 and 5.8 million. The series does not patronize its audience. It glosses over the public’s lack of knowledge of the specifics of the law. People plead to a section 20 (“Rough Justice”) or a section 33 (“Duty of Care”) with no detailed indication of what these sections actually involve. Similarly, the show assumes that the audience understands how the LCD works. It is left to the context to explain these statutes and practices without the need for the clumsy device of the ingénue or relative to whom the law must be explained. In terms of the role of women, ethnic minorities, and sexuality in this series, the picture is a contrast to most 21st century dramas with their “representative” mix of characters.
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The other judicial figures whom we see in the series are men. Women occupy crucial roles in the narrative but principally as minor satellites of the powerful men. The ethnic minority characters also are few and far between. When they do appear, they are shown as duplicitous and keen to serve their bosses. Evidently, Newman is not content to just tick “political correctness” boxes. Given his history, his representation of a male-dominated, white, stridently heterosexual world is both ironic and a challenge to those dramas that would lead us to believe that major changes have occurred in the distribution of power. Linked to the dominant theme of a class-centered Establishment, with its hands firmly on the levers of influence on the important matters of the day, we are in a world that Herbert Marcuse would recognize. In One Dimensional Man, Marcuse critiqued the false notion of freedom supposedly enjoyed in late 20th century liberal capitalism. Thus the ability of one individual, Deed, to exercise a modicum of autonomy sums up the process of repressive tolerance that is modern Western democracy. So head down to your local emporium and get the DVDs. They are a refreshing change and, who knows, they might even paint an accurate picture of how justice really operates in the British courts. 1
See chapters in this book by Paul Bergman on Rumpole of the Bailey and Ysaiah Ross on Kavanagh QC. See chapters in this book by Francis M. Nevins on Perry Mason and Steve Greenfield, Guy Osborn, and Peter Robson on Matlock. 3 See chapter in this book by Philip Meyer on L.A. Law. 4 See chapters in this book on the Judge Judy genre by Nancy Marder and Taunya Banks. 5 See the chapter in this book by David Papke on Judging Amy. 2
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