[There's discussion of a TON of plot details below, so if you haven't seen it, you've been warned.]
George Clooney is Matt King, descendant of Hawaiian royalty and socialites, heir to a land-trust on Kauai worth a half a billion dollars, father to two young girls, and husband to a comatose wife. He's a real estate lawyer, but don't get me wrong: the movie isn't really about law - it's not a legal thriller, not a courtroom drama. But law has it's fingerprints all over the film. Clooney knows law is everywhere you look.
More specifically, two of the movie's three major plots are not simply influenced by law: their narrative arcs take place in a space that is totally constructed and constrained by the law. For one, the extended King family is deciding whether or not to sell their 25,000 "pristine" acres. For another, Matt and his two daughters - not to mention all of their friends and family - have to say goodbye to their dying wife/mother, make their peace with her faults and misdeeds, and forgive her for them. Again, neither is necessarily about the law, but both stories occur in a framework that is not simply touched by law, but constituted by it. Let's take a look at each.
I Tried to Make This Heading Amusing, but Land Use and Estate Law Just Isn't Funny
Matt King and his relatives are trustees to land in Kauai worth $500 million. It's really pretty.
That's a lot of dough, and many of the relatives are happy to sell a) because they've squandered their inheritance and are eager for the cash, and/or b) the trust dissolves in seven years and they'll have to sell anyway. Matt is the sole executor of the trust - after all, he's the real estate lawyer (he even mentions the Rule Against Perpetuities early in the film). So though he's involving his family in the process of hearing and evaluating bids on the land, it's his decision.
Here's the thing: when he decides not to sell, the decision is a personal one, an emotional one. He's clearly been moved by the fact that his youngest daughter doesn't feel she has ties to it. He also notes - this is interesting - that they were "entrusted" with the land but have "done" nothing to own it. It's an expansive - and definitively extra-legal - definition of "ownership," one that speaks to stewardship, conservation, care, family ties, and mixing one's labor/love with the land (shout out to John Locke). The reasons he gives for wanting to keep the land are about kin, they are sentimental... they are personal, not legal.
But there's no doubt that his choice is made in space bordered by legal reasons. For one, his very ability to unilaterally make the choice is predicated on his status as the sole legal voice of the trust. Without this simple legal construct, it would have been a very different movie. Put that in the hopper with a few other considerations: he must, as a real estate lawyer, believe he can convert the trust at some point in those seven years and preserve it for his family (otherwise his climactic speech would make a lot less sense); his relatives, spearheaded by Beau Bridges
make it clear that they have legal resources at their disposal as well. Beau tells him "just because you're a lawyer doesn't mean that the rest of us will be afraid to come after you."
My point is that as a lawyer, George - I mean Matt - knows all this. Heck, even if he weren't a lawyer, he would probably know all or most of it. The legal terrain moulds the options that are open to him, and influences how desirable those options look. He knows it will be rough with his relatives when he decides not to sell and that he may face lawsuits from them, but that that's okay. It may be tough to negotiate and alter the legal status of the land so that he can keep it, but that's okay too. It's worth it, at least to him, to face down these troubles if it means owning up to his family legacy and preserving the memory of his ancestors to pass on to his descendants.
Again: it's not that this constitutes a legal drama. It's rather an urge to see that the all-too-human dramas that unfold do so against a backdrop structured by legal rules. His legal status, the legal status of the land, the possible legal claims of his relatives, these all inform, shape, and influence the personal and emotional aspects of the decisions he and others make about their inheritance.
A Funny Heading About End of Life Decisions Would be in Poor Taste
With the exception of the first 30 seconds of the film, Matt King's wife Elizabeth is a coma for the whole movie (after hitting her head in a boating accident). Now, let's put aside the questions of who might be liable for injuries during a speedboat race (Were there waivers? Are they good ones? Is it the driver? The person who was supposed to be driving? The club hosting it? Was something wrong with the boat? Any Torts prof is salivating right now at the wealth of possible exam questions). What I'm after here is the fact that another of the movie's central dramas is structured by a legal rule. In this case, it's the Advance Healthcare Directive Matt's wife executed that requires her physicians to pull the plug if she's in a vegetative state (no matter what her family would prefer).
Which means that Matt and his daughters
must say goodbye, and that Matt must make his peace with the fact that his wife had an affair. Not to get too repetitive, but these emotional dramas are once again predicated upon a particular legal reality. Without the legal obligation the Directive places on Elizabeth's physicians, it's possible the drama wouldn't play out at all, and it would certainly play out differently.
Matt and his daughters don't especially care, I wouldn't think, about the legal vagaries and niceties of an Advance Healthcare Directive. Nor should they in this instance. What rightly matters to them are their emotional entanglements with their wife or mother, or with each other. My point - again - is rather that these emotional dramas bubble to the surface because of the Directive Elizabeth executed. That legal reality grounds the entirety what comes after.
Of course, if the Directive didn't exist, a different set of legal rules would impose themselves on the situation. Matt would presumably have Durable Power of Attorney, and would have to make some medical decisions. This legal construction would not only affect his life in a real way, but would certainly color the relationships he has with his daughters, with Elizabeth's father, with Elizabeth's lover, with her friends, etc.
And also etc., etc., etc...
Other legal influences abound. Matt finds his daughter drunk and out after curfew at her boarding school. Did the school breach their duty of care? To her? To him? She's also perhaps trespassing and certainly breaking school code and state law. Her friend Sid tells Matt that he "always has weed." State (and federal) law again. In one of the most satisfying scenes of the movie, Matt's father in law punches Sid.
Battery, for sure, but I can imagine a 1L Torts discussion where we argue whether or not the fact that he tells Sid "I'm going to punch you" constitutes assault, or rather mitigates the fear required for assault (for those of you who haven't been subjected to a 1L Torts class, Assault is being subjected to a reasonable fear or apprehension for your personal safety). Heck, if I wanted to be really silly, I'd wonder whether or not Angelina Jolie has a case against Descendants screenwriter Jim Rash for copyright infringement.
My aim here is not to try to make everyone look at everything like it's a Torts exam - I'm not that cruel - but to consider the ways in which law shapes the terrain of our everyday life, even (or especially) when we're not looking. There's almost always some aspect of a scenario that is in some important way inflected by our laws. In the middle of the movie, Clooney has this exchange with the man who slept with his (Clooney's) wife:
"It just happened."
"Nothing just happens."
"Everything just happens."
No matter who's right, no matter whether things "just" happen or not, one thing's for sure: they always happen against a background woven by our laws.
I Tried to Make This Heading Amusing, but Land Use and Estate Law Just Isn't Funny
Matt King and his relatives are trustees to land in Kauai worth $500 million. It's really pretty.
That's a lot of dough, and many of the relatives are happy to sell a) because they've squandered their inheritance and are eager for the cash, and/or b) the trust dissolves in seven years and they'll have to sell anyway. Matt is the sole executor of the trust - after all, he's the real estate lawyer (he even mentions the Rule Against Perpetuities early in the film). So though he's involving his family in the process of hearing and evaluating bids on the land, it's his decision.
Here's the thing: when he decides not to sell, the decision is a personal one, an emotional one. He's clearly been moved by the fact that his youngest daughter doesn't feel she has ties to it. He also notes - this is interesting - that they were "entrusted" with the land but have "done" nothing to own it. It's an expansive - and definitively extra-legal - definition of "ownership," one that speaks to stewardship, conservation, care, family ties, and mixing one's labor/love with the land (shout out to John Locke). The reasons he gives for wanting to keep the land are about kin, they are sentimental... they are personal, not legal.
But there's no doubt that his choice is made in space bordered by legal reasons. For one, his very ability to unilaterally make the choice is predicated on his status as the sole legal voice of the trust. Without this simple legal construct, it would have been a very different movie. Put that in the hopper with a few other considerations: he must, as a real estate lawyer, believe he can convert the trust at some point in those seven years and preserve it for his family (otherwise his climactic speech would make a lot less sense); his relatives, spearheaded by Beau Bridges
make it clear that they have legal resources at their disposal as well. Beau tells him "just because you're a lawyer doesn't mean that the rest of us will be afraid to come after you."
My point is that as a lawyer, George - I mean Matt - knows all this. Heck, even if he weren't a lawyer, he would probably know all or most of it. The legal terrain moulds the options that are open to him, and influences how desirable those options look. He knows it will be rough with his relatives when he decides not to sell and that he may face lawsuits from them, but that that's okay. It may be tough to negotiate and alter the legal status of the land so that he can keep it, but that's okay too. It's worth it, at least to him, to face down these troubles if it means owning up to his family legacy and preserving the memory of his ancestors to pass on to his descendants.
Again: it's not that this constitutes a legal drama. It's rather an urge to see that the all-too-human dramas that unfold do so against a backdrop structured by legal rules. His legal status, the legal status of the land, the possible legal claims of his relatives, these all inform, shape, and influence the personal and emotional aspects of the decisions he and others make about their inheritance.
A Funny Heading About End of Life Decisions Would be in Poor Taste
With the exception of the first 30 seconds of the film, Matt King's wife Elizabeth is a coma for the whole movie (after hitting her head in a boating accident). Now, let's put aside the questions of who might be liable for injuries during a speedboat race (Were there waivers? Are they good ones? Is it the driver? The person who was supposed to be driving? The club hosting it? Was something wrong with the boat? Any Torts prof is salivating right now at the wealth of possible exam questions). What I'm after here is the fact that another of the movie's central dramas is structured by a legal rule. In this case, it's the Advance Healthcare Directive Matt's wife executed that requires her physicians to pull the plug if she's in a vegetative state (no matter what her family would prefer).
Which means that Matt and his daughters
must say goodbye, and that Matt must make his peace with the fact that his wife had an affair. Not to get too repetitive, but these emotional dramas are once again predicated upon a particular legal reality. Without the legal obligation the Directive places on Elizabeth's physicians, it's possible the drama wouldn't play out at all, and it would certainly play out differently.
Matt and his daughters don't especially care, I wouldn't think, about the legal vagaries and niceties of an Advance Healthcare Directive. Nor should they in this instance. What rightly matters to them are their emotional entanglements with their wife or mother, or with each other. My point - again - is rather that these emotional dramas bubble to the surface because of the Directive Elizabeth executed. That legal reality grounds the entirety what comes after.
Of course, if the Directive didn't exist, a different set of legal rules would impose themselves on the situation. Matt would presumably have Durable Power of Attorney, and would have to make some medical decisions. This legal construction would not only affect his life in a real way, but would certainly color the relationships he has with his daughters, with Elizabeth's father, with Elizabeth's lover, with her friends, etc.
And also etc., etc., etc...
Other legal influences abound. Matt finds his daughter drunk and out after curfew at her boarding school. Did the school breach their duty of care? To her? To him? She's also perhaps trespassing and certainly breaking school code and state law. Her friend Sid tells Matt that he "always has weed." State (and federal) law again. In one of the most satisfying scenes of the movie, Matt's father in law punches Sid.
Battery, for sure, but I can imagine a 1L Torts discussion where we argue whether or not the fact that he tells Sid "I'm going to punch you" constitutes assault, or rather mitigates the fear required for assault (for those of you who haven't been subjected to a 1L Torts class, Assault is being subjected to a reasonable fear or apprehension for your personal safety). Heck, if I wanted to be really silly, I'd wonder whether or not Angelina Jolie has a case against Descendants screenwriter Jim Rash for copyright infringement.
My aim here is not to try to make everyone look at everything like it's a Torts exam - I'm not that cruel - but to consider the ways in which law shapes the terrain of our everyday life, even (or especially) when we're not looking. There's almost always some aspect of a scenario that is in some important way inflected by our laws. In the middle of the movie, Clooney has this exchange with the man who slept with his (Clooney's) wife:
"It just happened."
"Nothing just happens."
"Everything just happens."
No matter who's right, no matter whether things "just" happen or not, one thing's for sure: they always happen against a background woven by our laws.
No comments:
Post a Comment