I have already glanced at the legal issues in The Merchant of Veniceon this blog; but Shakespeare dealt with issues of justice and mercy in many other plays as well. Consider for example Measure for Measure (wikipedia | full text | Project Gutenberg), which juxtaposes imperfect justice on earth with merciful justice in heaven. Christine Corcos on the Law and Humanities Blog writes about a fascinating analysis of the play from a legal perspective (with added links):
John V. Orth, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, School of Law, has published “‘The Golden Metwand’: The Measure of Justice in Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure,” in the Adelaide Law Review. Here is the abstract.
Measure for Measure, one of Shakespeare’s problem plays, is a dark comedy depicting Duke Vincentio’s effort to restore respect for the law after a period of lax enforcement. Peopled with a wide variety of law-enforcers and law-breakers, the play implicates numerous legal issues and has consequently attracted the attention of lawyers and judges. In the eighteenth century Sir William Blackstone contributed notes on the play, while in the twentieth century judges have quoted from it in their judicial opinions. Like all good legal dramas, Measure for Measure ends with a trial scene, but – as we would expect from Shakespeare – one with an unusual twist. When charges of corruption are brought against Angelo, the deputy appointed to enforce the law, the Duke orders an immediate trial: Come, cousin Angelo / In this I’ll be impartial; be you judge / Of your own cause. When the deputy’s guilt is disclosed, the Duke commands that he suffer the punishment he intended for others – measure for measure, putting the Bible-conscious play-goer in mind of the passage: Judge not, that ye be not judged. / For with what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged, and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you againe. By ordering Angelo to be the judge of his own cause, the Duke is inviting the deputy to measure out his own punishment. And Shakespeare is forcing us all to confront the difficulty of doing earthly justice.
Scene II, the Sermon on the Mount, from the perspective of back of the crowd, where Jesus can barely be heard over the hubub:
GREGORY: What was that? … MAN #1: I think it was ‘Blessed are the cheesemakers.’ … MRS. GREGORY: Ahh, what’s so special about the cheesemakers? GREGORY: Well, obviously, this is not meant to be taken literally. It refers to any manufacturers of dairy products.
In the 1988 film The Accused [trailer here], a young woman named Sarah Tobias is gang raped on a pinball machine by three men while a crowded bar watches. The rapists cut a deal with the prosecutor. Sarah’s outrage at the deal convinces the assistant district attorney to prosecute members of the crowd that cheered on and encouraged the rape. This film shows how Sarah Tobias [played by Jodie Foster in an oscar-winning role], a woman with little means and less experience, intuits that according to the law rape victims are incredible witnesses to their own victimization. The film goes on to critique what the right kind of witness would be. This article explains how the film The Accused is therefore about the relationship between witnessing and testimony, between seeing and the representation of that which was seen. The article elaborates the relationship between the power and responsibility of being a witness in law – one who sees and credibly attests to the truth of her vision – as well as it unpacks the significance of bearing witness to film – what can we know from watching movies.
There are three really interesting things on in Trinity at the moment.
First, the 1930s Cleudo-style poster on the left is for a fascinating exhibition in the Old Library (the building that houses the Long Room and the Book of Kells) about crime writing in the 1920s and the 1930s. Showcasing the first golden age of the detective novel, the exhibition illustrates the origins of the detective story in the mid 19th century, and focuses on the growth in popularity of fictional heroes such as Sherlock Holmes, Father Brown and Hercule Poirot in the earlier part of the 20th century. [Update: more here]. One thing is sure: since academics have become overworked administrators, the body in the library is not one of my academic colleagues!
‘Sé an tríú rud atá ar siúl sa choláiste ná Égise na Trinóide 09. Chuir An Chumann Ghaelach agus Oifig na Gaeilge an féile bhliantúil Ghaeilge an Choláiste le chéile, agus beidh go leor le deanamh an seachtain seo chugainn [Leagan úr: féach anseo chomh mhaith]. Beidh ceol agus craic, dispóireachtaí agus agallaimh ar siúl; bígí ann!
Not only are early incarnations of Mickey Mouse no longer covered by copyright, but as of 1 January last, neither is Popeye (King Features page | Popeye.com | wikipedia), at least in the EU. According to The Times:
“I yam what I yam,” declared Popeye. And just what that is is likely to become less clear as the copyright expires on the character who generates about £1.5 billion in annual sales.
From January 1, the iconic sailor falls into the public domain in Britain under an EU law that restricts the rights of authors to 70 years after their death. Elzie Segar, the Illinois artist who created Popeye, his love interest Olive Oyl and nemesis Bluto, died in 1938. .. The copyright expiry means that … anyone can print and sell Popeye posters, T-shirts and even create new comic strips, without the need for authorisation or to make royalty payments. …
… the question of whether any company can now attach Popeye’s famous face to their spinach cans will have to be tested in court.
While the copyright is about to expire inside the EU, the character is protected in the US until 2024. US law protects a work for 95 years after its initial copyright.
The Popeye trademark, a separate entity to Segar’s authorial copyright, is owned by King Features, a subsidiary of the Hearst Corporation which is expected to protect its brand aggressively. …
Moreover, Likelihood of Confusion predicts that the US Congress might be persuaded yet again to extend that copyright period (though there must surely be limits to the US Supreme Court’s forbearance in this matter). In the meantime, as Techdirt (hat tip Peter Black) observes, “what happens with Popeye in the UK may be a rough guide as to what will happen should Mickey Mouse hit the public domain”.
In Atherton v DPP [2006] 1 IR 245, [2005] IEHC 429 (21 December 2005) Peart J held that a video recording of a hedge visible from the public road – and thus of the accused causing criminaldamage to the hedge – did not constitute an unconstitutional invasion of the accused’s right to privacy. On the other hand, in Sinnott v Carlow Nationalist (High Court, unreported, 30 July 2008, Budd J) (already discussed on this site: here, here, here and here), Budd J held that the publication of a photograph of the plaintiff playing Gaelic football in which his private parts were clearly visible constituted a breach of his constitutional right to privacy. It is therefore reasonably clear that – as Atherton illustrates – most matters which occur in a public place will not, for that reason, attract the protection of the constitutional right of privacy; but that – as Sinnott illustrates – some matters will.
Although Sinnott may very well be exceptional, it demonstrates that, as a matter of Irish law, it is possible to assert a right of privacy in a public place. Although it may also be exceptional, the converse may also be true, that a right of privacy may be lost even in a private place. For example, there may be consent to some degree of scrutiny (such as being seen nude by someone else in a private or intimate setting) which would mean that the right of privacy is lost in that private place at least to some extent. But, in principle, there would limits to the consent so given, so that if the scrutiny which occurred (such as secretly making a recording of the nudity) went further than the consent, it would therefore became an infringement of privacy. Read the rest of this entry »
It is an interesting phenomenon to observe a person’s name becoming a generic description. Take, for example, Shylock, who features in an earlier post on this blog. The name, with a lower-case initial, is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as “an extortionate usurer … an abusive term for a moneylender”. Another – perhaps even more famous, and certainly seasonal – example is provided by Scrooge, the anti-hero in A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. Of this name, the OED says that it is used “to designate a miserly, tight-fisted person or killjoy” (here’s an example from yesterday’s Irish Times).
This is all by way of introducing a post by Keith Rowley on ContractsProf Blog entitled Ebenezer Scrooge on Contract Formation. He sets out a conversation from the screenplay of a movie version of the story which does not seem to appear in the book. This is neither the first nor the only time that screenplays have taken liberties with this book, my favourite movie version certainly does. In this case, the conversation is added to illustrate Scrooge’s heartlessness at the beginning of the story (before his conversion to the spirt of Christmas at the end of the book). However, as Rowley puts it, the conversation also rather neatly illustrates “the then-prevailing common law rule that an offer made in a face-to-face conversation expires at the end of the conversation unless the offeror indicates otherwise”. Read all about it here.
A Jewish moneylender in Renaissance Venice, Shylock had made a loan to Antonio, in default of which he would entitled to a pound of Antonio’s flesh. Antonio defaulted, and Shylock sought specific performance. But, after Portia’s advocacy on behalf of Antonio, the Duke of Venice ruled that Shylock was entitled to a pound of flesh but not a drop of blood, and refused both specific performance and damages in lieu. More than that, for seeking to take Antonio’s life, Shylock was disgraced and forced to convert to Christianity, and his property was forfeit (though half was ultimately settled upon his daughter Jessica, who had converted to Christianity and eloped with her suitor, Lorenzo). Read the rest of this entry »
Posted elsewhere (some of my recent posterous posts)
My posterous site is a companion to this blog: anything that catches my eye on the wild wild web that's too long for twitter but too short for a normal post here will (probably - eventually) end up over there.
I learn from this week’s New Yorker (cover, left) that the 
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