Judging Judging Amy

Picturing Justice: the on-line journal of law and popular culture - December 19, 1999

By Chris Jackson

I should be on my way to Vegas. A prediction I ventured back in May has come true (see Picturing Justice article, "From Baltimore to ‘Providence’: It’s Farther Than You Think").

At that time, NBC had cancelled the steely crime drama Homicide: Life on the Streets, and sentimental newcomer Providence was safely ensconced among the top twenty shows. My guess was that television’s fall lineup would include a spate of shows featuring thirty-ish urban professionals returning home for a new start. Cincinnati or Phoenix might be likely titles. I overlooked Hartford, location and secret title of CBS’s Judging Amy. Similar to Providence, this show has snappier writing and substitutes law for medicine as the main character’s career. Still, it’s a softy.

The ten-year marriage of corporate lawyer Amy Grant (Amy Brenneman) is over. Nominated for a judgeship in Hartford County’s Juvenile Court, Amy and her young daughter (Karle Warren) flee New York City for the relative quiet of Connecticut. The two move in with Amy’s mother, Maxine (the inimitable Tyne Daly), a semi-retired social worker. Other family members include older brother Peter, a plodding insurance executive, Jillian, his dissatisfied wife upset because she can’t conceive, and Vincent (Dan Futterman), a struggling short story writer running a dog washing business. Vincent’s literary style is, according to his agent, "Anne Tyler with testicles."

What can legal practitioners learn from this series? So far the drama’s focus on matters of law has been pretty mushy. For Amy, presiding in family court is like returning to kindergarten. In early episodes, Amy learns when to call a recess and where to sit for lunch (with Maxine, of course, who smiles and waves at everyone in the cafeteria).

It’s hard to believe that Judge Grant is a Harvard Law grad with corporate law experience. After a family worker’s recommendation to the court, Amy asks, "What does that mean?" The woman responds, "What part?" Amy says, "All of it." Eventually, Judge Grant suggests that a child’s grandmother may be a more suitable caretaker than a foster family. Maxine would beam with pride.

Other cases testing Amy’s ethical and legislative mettle concern a possible conflict of interest, a defendant claiming multiple personality disorder, and a violent juvenile offender. One of her decisions is appealed. Judge Grant has yet to cite any precedents or display legal knowledge. The four or five shows I’ve seen avoid actual rulings and are long on continuances.

Every episode’s credits end with a clip of Amy scampering down a hall, judicial robe floating behind her. The shot is a mirror image from that saga of teen angst, My So-Called Life. Amy’s professional world of the courthouse is only high school, and all these new people are just cliques in the cafeteria. For courtroom role models, better watch The Practice or Sam Waterston and Angie Harmon in Law and Order.

Spiritual guidance, however, is the series’ strong suit. This is a show in search of wisdom rather than justice. The biggest burden on Amy’s shoulders seems to be balancing professional duties with personal responsibilities. Ironically, Amy becomes a judge in family court just as her own marriage is crumbling. Prior to being sworn in, Amy faces her precocious daughter, Lauren.

Amy: This judge thing is really cool but the most important job I’ll ever have is being your mom. [pause for effect] How was that?

Lauren: Pretty good. Now, let’s get sworn in.

Living with Mom and other family members represents another challenge for Judge Grant. Like "Providence," the show brims with babies and dogs. In some of the at-home scenes, the sap flows freely.

Bing bong. "Now, who comes to visit at dinner time?" Maxine asks, but we already know. Yes, it’s the angry mother who abandons her adorable baby on Maxine’s doorstep. This happens just in time to give the childless Jillian a taste of child-rearing. Who wouldn’t love this big old house filled with wacky relatives? Even the dorky older brother shows his warm side when he and Vincent go out for some brewskys.

Despite cornball plots and soft-focus shots of family portraits, the dialogue at home includes some spice. After Amy and Maxine fight, Vincent tells Amy to ease up.

Vincent: C’mon. Throw Mom a bone.

Amy: She doesn’t want a bone; she wants the whole cow.

In another scene, Maxine’s ham-handedness leaves only her and Vincent at the dinner table.

Vincent: You sure know how to clear a room.

Maxine: It hasn’t worked on you yet.

Unlike the guardian angel mother in Providence, Amy’s sage matriarch is all too alive. Her home is a sprinkler system of wisdom. Even the family dog’s name is Socrates. When Jillian leaves Peter and moves in with Maxine, Mom spins out a little homily. "Jillian, did you let Socrates out by himself? You should go with him. Then he will do what he needs to do." Translation: Go back to Peter.

Maxine’s goal is to show her offspring how to be adults. Her advice to Amy about being a judge? "Pee before you take the bench, and make sure there’s no food in your teeth. Trust your instincts." You never heard such tasty tidbits in law school. Armed with these truths, who needs LSATs and mock trials?

My crystal ball is ready with its next prediction: a three-five year run for Judging Amy, despite a time slot opposite ABC’s NYPD Blue starting in January. Sharp writing and fine acting make the show appealing. There are already indications that Amy on the bench is wising up, and Maxine will display more vulnerability. The ethos that family must be preserved is a sea change from other crime and cop dramas. "Amy" is comfort food for tired, hungry professionals who feel adrift in the career world. They can watch, learn a little something about how to survive mistakes, and feel secure with Maxine’s wisdom that "There are no formulas."

Chris Jackson is an Associate Professor at Nova Southeastern University in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. She teaches writing, literature, and music history.


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