American law serial that blends in theory and practice

Since I write about literature and the arts, and work with performing artistes, I often get text messages from artistes, asking me to watch their classy shows or in-depth interviews on television. I never tell them that I am actually addicted to The Practice, the old American law serial, on a popular crime channel!

I caught the bug by accident. An idle moment in a waiting room had my eyes straying to the television.  My languor vanished the moment lawyer Bobby Donnell walked into the frame. I smiled cynically at his good looks, and even more when his opponent, district attorney Richard Bay, turned out to be a midget. Bay’s partner Helen Gamble was a slender, husky voiced siren. Perfect stereotypes, I shrugged. Five minutes later, I found myself hooked to their snarling polemics.

Soon I was fitting The Practice into my daily schedule. I had to know all about serial killers and drug pushers, rapists and rogue policemen. Did they do it? Were they framed? Will the haughty prosecutor succeed?  Will the Trojan defence lawyer evade the trap? Will the jury go astray?

Courtroom serials are not new. Nor is The Practice a crime classic. Its plot is often simple and predictable, yes, down to the O’Henry-esque twists. Though a range of issues unfold, from racism and terrorism to class and gender politics, the perspective remains merely liberal, not insightful or profound.

Donnell launches a law firm to save the innocent, but realises that it can be financed only by criminal clients. His associates face crumbling ideals, conscience struggles, and dilemmas where morality clashes with the law. What keeps them going is their passionate belief that everyone is entitled to a defence, and to be deemed innocent until proven guilty beyond reasonable doubt.

What makes this multi-award winning serial stand out is the brilliant characterisation of the main and subsidiary figures. Neither saints nor demons, they are as human as they come. The viewer begins to see the strengths, fallibilities, and quirks of emotionally taciturn Bobby, upright Eugene, overweight Eleanor, brilliant Lindsay, self-conflicted Jimmy, gentle Rebecca and saucy Lucy — as if they were family members. District attorney Helen Gamble’s unflinching rectitude is credible because she is not above witness manipulation. The characters become real when we see them in moments, shining and murky. Suddenly, we cannot distinguish the good side from the bad. Borders are blurred. Both are tainted.

The dialogue is crisp, pithy, as only to be expected in a legal drama, but not the monochromatic or standardised dialogues we hear in the common run. Texture, tone and thought process identify the characters in everyday chat, as also in closing arguments in court. And though teleserials cannot admit the contemplative camera, The Practice manages to suggest nuances, by the simple device of letting the camera linger on the face after the words are done. In those brief, silent moments, emotions and characters reveal telling strands. Murder, marriage, romance, rape, adultery, divorce, bigotry, deception — this popular entertainer deals with every one of these situations with gumption, and unfailing grit. It doesn’t titillate or see the viewer as an imbecile.  

As a product of its times, The Practice makes me think about what we accept in theory: the innocent must be freed, the guilty punished. Though we don’t live in the age of miracles, and are inured to corruption and deceit, we still long for truth to triumph, justice to prevail, goodness to win. We also know that the innocent cannot escape suffering and injustice. And yet, as long as we resist evil, there is hope for the future.

The author is a playwright, theatre director, musician,and journalist writing on the performing arts,cinema and literature.