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WOMEN ARE PEOPLE TOO
by Christine Corcos
FOR THE PEOPLE Debuts on LIFETIME Television
For the People, the latest in a steady flow of TV
legal dramas, debuted on the highly rated cable network LIFETIME
on July 21st. Like its sister shows Strong Medicine and
The Division, For the People promises good acting
and a look at important issues. Based on its first few episodes,
it may deliver on that promise, even though it also presents
a certain number of problems, including dramatic clichés
such as the black professional who is more conservative than
his or her white colleagues, and the verbal cat fight between
women who nevertheless find common ground, and awkward or trite
writing that betrays the actors.
 The
premise of For the People is that attractive, slim, dedicated
and liberal divorced assistant district attorney, Camille Paris
(played by Lea Thompson, who became famous as the cartoonist
Caroline in Caroline in the City), decides to resign because
the people have elected a new DA, an attractive, slim, conservative
black lawyer, Lora Gibson (Debbi Morgan). While Thompson is clearly
intended to be the star of the show, in her briefer scenes Morgan
provides a solid presence and if the writers allow her, will
become a worthy counterpoint to Paris. Gibson convinces Paris
to stay, saying that she has been elected to clean house but
not to victimize those employees who are doing a good job.
A first episode is always problematic.
The writers need to introduce all the characters, set up at least
minimal dramatic tension that will keep the viewers tuning in,
and present an interesting story that they can wrap up in 60
minutes (minus commercials). For the People's pilot episode
does an okay job.
In addition to the disagreements
between Gibson and Paris, the episode presents two important
stories, one involving a drug dealer who wants to get off the
streets and the other involving the murderer of a gay man who
may have been incited by the content of a conservative religious
talk show. This pairing of storylines began with such classic
dramas as Law and Order, and continued with last season's
First Monday and The Court. It allows the writers
to contrast issues and to trace parallels between the cases the
lawyers pursue and problems they encounter in their personal
lives.
In both cases in For the People's premier episode, Gibson
makes clear that she wants to be tough on crime regardless of
the alleged perpetrator, and in both cases she runs into trouble.
District attorneys often have to make deals or offer plea bargains
to get the bad guys off the streets. Both Gibson and Paris find
this reality distasteful, but Paris is more sanguine about it.
The legal issues in these stories
are extremely complicated, and the one-hour format shorts them,
denying the show the time to examine them adequately. A two-hour
episode, even spread over two weeks, would have been a better
idea. As it is, the stories both get short shrift. The drug dealer
story pits Paris against Gibson, Paris wanting to use the dealer's
wife and daughter against him. Since both have minor criminal
charges pending, she proposes offering a deal, pressuring the
wife to squeal on her husband (we get the usual inaccurate comment
about a wife not being able to testify against her husband).
Gibson objects that she wants to put both husband and wife in
jail-why make a deal with one, effectively "letting her
off" in exchange for her testimony? That isn't the message
the new "tough on crime" D.A. wants to send.
Paris takes the position that the drug dealer is by far more
of a danger to society than his wife, who is accused of using
drugs and some minor traffic violations. The daughter has also
used drugs, but is fourteen, and Paris is inclined to get her
into counseling rather than try her, convict her, and lock her
up. Gibson eventually folds, allowing Paris to prepare a little
confrontation between the parents, and gets the wife's cooperation
in exchange for immunity.
The incitement question is
much more interesting, and could have benefited from a more careful
analysis of the legal and political questions involved. The talk
show host is portrayed as a fundamentalist Christian who believes
the Bible forbids homosexuality and who urges her listeners to
destroy gays and lesbians. We never get a sense of the exact
tone of her message-exactly what is the content of her speech?
How close to incitement does it get? This assessment is crucial.
Paris points out that getting a conviction on an incitement charge
will be difficult-the D.A.'s office will have to show a direct
correlation between the commentator's words and the young man's
murder, since a limitation on such speech is content-based. Gibson
snaps back that she understands that a constitutional right is
involved but she wants to pursue an indictment against the talk
show host anyway. Once again, she seems to be taking a hard line
against crime, although this type of crime might seem unimportant
to some of her electorate (those who dislike gays). But one might
also discern a political motive-the vast majority of voters will
not understand why a conviction is unlikely and may see Gibson
as a "tough on crime" D.A. foiled by the justice system.
The episode shows the grand jury hearing, during which the commentator
testifies. So far, so good-the viewer gets to see a representation
of a grand jury hearing. But why is the mother of the murdered
boy in the courtroom during the testimony? Obviously the writers
think this will heighten the dramatic tension, since the mother
will get a chance to hear what she considers to be lies from
the commentator. But witnesses do not sit through the testimony
of others in a grand jury hearing. Once again the writers needlessly
sacrifice reality for drama, since a confrontation between the
mother and the commentator in the hall of the courthouse, or
after the commentator speaks to the press, for example, would
accomplish the same objective. In spite of the generally accepted
notion among lawyers that a grand jury "will indict a ham
sandwich", this grand jury refuses to return a true bill
against the talk show host. This event strikes me as highly unlikely.
It's more probable, I think, that the case would proceed to trial
and that the defense attorney would obtain a dismissal, than
that a grand jury would refuse to oblige a well-liked district
attorney.
Finally, the mother confronts the talk show host during a press
conference, and fires a weapon, killing one man and wounding
the host. Thompson is thus faced at the end of the episode with
seeking an indictment for murder against the mother, whom she
likes and with whom she sympathizes. She is greatly disturbed
by this turn of events and has decided to resign, when Gibson
drops by and asks her to stay on. The scene ends on an upbeat
note.
The third episode features
the hunt for a con man who might have murdered his latest victim,
and a smear campaign against the Gibson's friend, a newly elected
councilwoman. Again, the need to bring both stories to a conclusion
leads to an artificial shortening of the time period necessary
to put together a murder case. We see the murder case tried at
the same time that Gibson pursues the subpoena against the newspaper.
Yet we know that the actual murder and the smear campaign are
contemporaneous. The script also suggests that Paris is not as
competent a prosecutor as one would assume from her biography.
During an interview with the victim's small daughter, she notes
that the child seems to be less than forthcoming concerning her
mother's relationship with the alleged killer. Such a deduction
isn't difficult; the child's face manifests her reluctance very
clearly. But Paris fails to follow up on her "hunch"
that the child is hiding something until well into the trial.
Faced with increasingly reluctant witnesses who are afraid of
the defendant's attorney, she discusses the problem with Gibson,
who counsels her to re-interview the child and put her on the
stand. Is the defense attorney likely to sit still for this tactic?
Witness lists would have been provided before trial; the daughter
was not an unknown quantity at that point, so Paris cannot claim
she is a witness who has suddenly become available.
Meanwhile, Gibson's "get
tough" persona gets a workout from her attempt to obtain
business records from the local newspaper that has run an ad
attacking her friend the councilwoman. The ACLU steps in, personified
by a nerdy, stoop-shouldered, self-righteous lawyer who lectures
the D.A. on the First Amendment and notifies her of a lawsuit
pending against her office. The protections that the newspaper
is claiming seem to derive from New York Times v. Sullivan, but
are never articulated. Instead, the D.A. takes the position that
the newspaper is abetting "political corruption" and
she slaps the editor with a subpoena. When the ACLU lawyer tells
her the subpoena won't bear judicial scrutiny she tells him,
"There's nothing illegal about my position. Can you say
the same thing about yours?" Apparently he has never considered
the side of things because he is dumbstruck at her display of
legal logic and drops the lawsuit. Apart from the fact that the
show needlessly portrays the civil liberties lawyer as incompetent,
it also suggests once again that the First Amendment is a triviality,
and in this day of increasing violence and objectionable speech,
it should not protect those whom we disagree with, especially
when they are doing nasty things to our friends. This kind of
intellectual sound byte does the viewing public a disservice.
It is, however, necessary, given the need to wrap up two important
stories in the hour-length format. Thus the writers give Thompson,
Morgan and the other actors heavy doses of puerile dialogue which
they apparently think translates into "heavy-hitting"
commentary on the important issues of the day, demonstrating
that in order to deal with the problems of our society, our thoughtful,
caring prosecutors, who never violate the rights of the accused,
need the benefit of the doubt. Such a course is regrettable because
the actors, particularly Morgan, are clearly able to handle the
kind of writing that raises shows like Law and Order far
above the mainstream. Ultimately the most jarring thing about
the show is the writing, which seems relentless in its search
for significant dialogue and thought-provoking commentary, but
serves up words and action that fall flat, causing the actors
to work extremely hard to get through the script.
The script throws the actors
some curves as well. In her personal life, Paris finds the dating
scene difficult and decides to try "flash dating" at
which she fails miserably, like nearly all of us. Her ex-husband
commiserates, and Gibson invites her to dinner, promising to
introduce her to some of her and her husband's friends. Some
of them, she says, are even liberals (translation: the cat fights
begin and end in the office). Paris's inability to get a date
is meant to imply solidarity with the victims of the con man
she is prosecuting, nearly all of whom in contrast with actress
Thompson, are deliberately made ordinary or unattractive. Their
only virtue in the eye of the con man-murderer is their money,
which he liberates with great ease. That pretty, accomplished
women sometimes can't get dates is undeniably true, but when
we are asked to believe that Thompson (as Paris), who is perky,
likable and sympathetic can't attract a man, we just don't believe
it. One might argue that the show is trying to be realistic,
demonstrating that single men feel threatened by attractive professional
women. But Lora Gibson is happily married, and it is arguably
just as difficult for an attractive black professional woman
to find a husband as it is for a white professional woman.
The emphasis on women attorneys
on the show continues with the supporting cast, including Cecilia
Suarez as Anita Lopez, an ambitious Latina who clearly wants
to replace Paris as Chief Assistant District Attorney. We can
expect more cat fights. In addition, A Martinez, a familiar face
from L .A. Law (in which he played Daniel Morales) and various
daytime dramas, is present as Paris' public defender ex-husband,
and possibly her future love interest as well, since their divorce
seems to have been amicable. Apparently the more assertive (aggressive?)
Anita Lopez (Suárez) doesn't rate a love life, reinforcing
that stereotype about ambitious, capable women.
I happened to watch the episode just after viewing the television
movie Tell Me No Secrets (1997), which stars Lori Loughlin
as an attractive, slim, no-nonsense divorced district attorney
under attack from a serial killer. What strikes me is the similarity
in character among all the attractive, slim, female district
attorneys who populate television, all of whom I believe belong
to the fictional P.C.W.P.B.A. (Popular Culture Women Prosecutor's
Bar Association). They look alike, they talk alike, they date
alike, and they get into the same difficulties (with men, with
their colleagues, with their bosses, with their clients, with
the police). The woman lawyer is the latest in a series of gothic
heroines of the HIBK (Had I But Known) sort-Had I But Known my
ex-husband was a murderer (Tell Me No Secrets), Had I But Known
my boyfriend was a murderer (Naked Lie) I would have dated somebody
else. Many of these women, who are bright, ambitious, and deserving
of better, pair up with these men because for whatever reason
the writers think the public wants to see women in very traditional
roles, needing to be rescued by other men whom they have hitherto
overlooked. Often these women don't "recognize what's good
for them"-the rescuers are the men whom they've previously
rejected (Criminal Behavior, in which Farrah Fawcett plays a
defense attorney whose rejected police officer admirer comes
to her rescue, is a good example). To the extent that For
the People gives us women who look their age (both Morgan
and Thompson have at least some wrinkles) and presents characters
who are bright, ambitious, and capable, operating at a very high
level and expecting more of themselves and those around them
than has previously been the case (see the shenanigans on Ally
McBeal for contrast), the show has the potential to be another
in a distinguished line of legal dramas, like Lifetime's Any
Day Now (featuring Lorraine Toussaint and Annie Potts). Paris's
ex and Gibson's husband are supportive fellows, countering current
television stereotypes of Hispanic and African-American men.
One feature that I applaud
comes at the end of the show, while the credits roll. Morgan
and Thompson address the audience (although it looks as if Morgan
at least is reading from a prompter) and suggest that women interested
in law as a career contact various professional organizations.
This information also appears on the Lifetime Television web
page for the series, as does a link to a listserv that allows
viewers to express opinions about the show. Most comments are
of the "I think A Martinez is sexy" variety, but some
are from women wanting to pursue a career in law (usually because
they like to argue).
I hope the series lasts at
least a year, so that the writers have the opportunity to show
us women who could realistically be district attorneys in a large
American city. But the simplistic plots and the trite dialogue
need work before For the People becomes a television drama
that the people embrace.
Posted October 1, 2002
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