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A trial judge’s personal favorite courtroom films

2025 November

Why do people become lawyers or judges? Do we really think people read about a trial in the newspaper and decide they must become lawyers? I doubt it. People rarely wander into a court unless they must, whether as a litigant or as a juror. The billboard ads and the endless lawyer commercials may attract clients, but it is unlikely that they bring forth a slew of law school applications.

It is film, television, and fiction though, I would argue, that gets more people to want to become a lawyer as they watch an idealized version of what they think a lawyer should be. Hollywood does a terrific job in glamorizing and sometimes demonizing the legal profession.

While there is an abundance of legal dramas on television, after a full day of trial, I rarely am one of the many viewers. Day to day, I avoid courtroom drama on television. I stay away from it because, as a trial judge for 32 years, I work day to day with jurors, lawyers, and trials. What I see on television doesn’t strike me as entertainment. It rather strikes me as a faded copy of what I do every day. When I do watch, I find myself making mental notes of what is wrong, unreasonable, or impossible if it were a real trial.

Each summer, I have several externs that work with me. Often, I will refer to classic films that can make legal reference points and I marvel (but I am getting used to) the blank faces of those externs who rarely have a clue as to the references. Because of those blank faces, I created a lecture that I often give to all the externs that work in the Los Angeles Superior Court during the summer. This article is based on those talks.

I have been a trial judge for 32 years, three years as a municipal court judge, and then 29 years as a superior court judge. When I was eight, my father became a Los Angeles Superior Court judge. I spent vacations at my father’s court, in the same building I currently sit in, for the last 24 years, in the Stanley Mosk Courthouse.

During days in court, sometimes memories of those key films can inspire and mirror some incidents in real-life cases you may handle. I would like to share my own list of films that have inspired me and share some personal notes of why these films have moved me.

While most films I mention may seem vintage, and many of them are in black and white (and one even has subtitles), they still have relevance for judges, lawyers and jurors. While this is my list of important courtroom films,

I am keenly aware of terrific books and occasional columns in the Daily Journal by Paul Bergman and Michael Asimow that also focus on iconic legal films. I recommend their writings, but my list, though there may be some overlap, contains my views from my perspective as a judge.

I constantly reference old films when I think about trials I conduct in court. I use PowerPoints that give legal principles taken from the CACI jury instructions and surreptitiously sneak in stills from classic courtroom films knowing that few jurors, decades younger, would recognize the references. If you are ever in my courtroom, during the pretrial PowerPoint orientation, watch for stills interposed with CACI jury instructions from Witness for the Prosecution, Perry Mason, 12 Angry Men, Young Mr. Lincoln, and To Kill a Mockingbird.

Perry Mason – The beginning

My father and I watched the first Perry Mason Show on television (1957-1966), which starred Raymond Burr as Perry Mason. It was based on a series of books written by Ventura County defense attorney Erle Stanley Gardner (1889-1970), who, though he only spent one month in law school in Indiana, has captured the excitement, drama, and trial strategies that have made jury trials must-see events, whether on the screen or in print. Gardner’s inspiration for the larger-than-life Perry Mason was the real-life Los Angeles attorney Earl Rogers (1869-1922), who among his many legendary trials, successfully defended Clarence Darrow (1857-1938) from a charge of jury tampering in Los Angeles.

The plots of each show revolved on a central theme, a homicide occurs, and the initial circumstantial evidence seems to point all fingers of guilt at the presumably obvious culprit who stands trial but is represented by the “almost can’t lose” Perry Mason. His cross-examination brilliance unravels the flaws in consistently relying on circumstantial evidence. While a trial generally looks bleak for Mason’s client, by the close of the hour, in a reversal – or a deus ex machina taken from ancient Greek drama – a witness in the courtroom confesses to the crime after a withering cross-examination from Perry Mason, which miraculously absolves Mason’s client, achieving nearly the impossible. The defendant is instantly exonerated, essentially handing the case of the incriminated witness to the district attorney’s office for a subsequent prosecution. Notwithstanding the formulaic plot, repeated over and over again, I was riveted!

What stayed with me was the advocacy – the fact that sheer will and laser-focused leading questions can get to the truth. While I have never seen a witness confess, Perry Mason convinces me that anything is possible. The other aspect of Perry Mason was that the guilty party is normally identified at the end. It is never Perry’s client, and the culprit will likely be punished later, often just a pipe dream in real life.

Young Mr. Lincoln (1939)

1939 was a magical year for the Hollywood film industry. There has never been a year in Hollywood that matched it. It was the year of Wizard of Oz, Gone with the Wind, Stagecoach, Greta Garbo’s first comedy Ninotchka, Wuthering Heights, Of Mice and Men and many other films. These were the days when there were only five films that could be nominated for an Oscar, unlike today, where 10 films compete. This golden year of Hollywood created a film by John Ford about Abraham Lincoln’s days as a trial attorney – Young Mr. Lincoln. Its lead performance by Henry Fonda is probably the best interpretation of Abraham Lincoln I have ever seen – and that is notwithstanding the Oscar-winning performance of Daniel Day Lewis (Oscar Winner Best Actor) in Steven Spielberg’s Lincoln (2012).

This was the second masterpiece that John Ford directed in 1939. He also directed Stagecoach, which was a serious Western starring John Wayne inspired by a short story by Guy de Maupassant (Boule de Suif). Though it is a John Wayne western, it is also a social commentary about the hypocrisy of the bourgeoisie. You might know John Ford more for his later films such as The Searchers (1956), She Tied a Yellow Ribbon (1949), How Green Was My Valley (1942), Oscar for best director or The Quiet Man (1953), Oscar for the best director and best cinematography, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). Liberty Valance is important because it is the story of how a heroic myth can be accepted as truth over gritty reality when a cynical reporter decides that the legend is more acceptable, by stating, “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” This quote has been used by trial lawyers in court to show how false stories can be created because individuals, often litigants, want to be considered in the right, even if the truth lies elsewhere.

Young Mr. Lincoln focuses on the early years of Lincoln’s life and closes with his career as a trial lawyer, defending a man charged with murder based on an actual case of Lincoln in 1858. The legal highlights of the film include:

Impeachment

The key point of the film is a master class in impeachment through cross-examination with a Farmer’s Almanac. While this is a fictionalized version of the actual trial, the classic techniques of impeachment: commit, credit, and confront – are skillfully shown. First, Lincoln commits him to his direct testimony, that the only way he could have seen the individuals at night from 200 feet was because it was “moon bright.” The witness admits that, if the moon was not out, he could have never seen the murderous act from that distance.

Cannily, Lincoln allows the witness to leave the witness stand, but then, suddenly, breaking his stride, he asks him to stop and confronts him with the Farmer’s Almanac that proves, on the night in question, the moon was obscured, and the witness could not have seen the murderous acts from that distance.

I would describe it as the “just one more thing” technique. If you are old enough to have watched the show Colombo (1971-2003) you would remember that in every episode. Peter Falk as Columbo would play a seemingly bumbling detective who would ask one final question in a supposed offhand manner that proves the suspect’s complicity in the crime. Lawyers in my courtroom know not to excuse a witness should that one more question technique be necessary. (Evid. Code, § 770, subd. (b).)

Opposing theory elicited through leading questions

In the final technique, during the same examination, Lincoln foreshadows the defense theory through leading questions, even though they are followed by immediate denials by the witness. These leading questions clearly present the defense theory, that the witness actually committed the crime. Even with those denials, the theory is revealed to the jury. While this technique is generally immediately objected to as argumentative and many judges would sustain many of the questions on those grounds or on assuming facts not in evidence, counsel has at least made strides in introducing the defense theory of the case.

In this film version, Lincoln accuses the witness of murder and proceeds with possible motives without objections or intervention by the judge to ensure Fifth Amendment protections. The dramatic impact on the jury is clear. While this film version may go outside the boundaries of permissible examination, it does an excellent job of showing the ingenuity of defense counsel.

Brutal honesty and voir dire

The final lesson from Young Mr. Lincoln is in jury selection. In the past three years, while in a civil trial court, lawyers have routinely introduced the term “brutal honesty” as a theme for their voir dire examination. I have heard that term so many times that I have included it in my initial PowerPoint for the jury panel so they will become familiar with the term and be prepared when the lawyers touch on that phrase.

In Young Mr. Lincoln, there is no better example of “brutal honesty” than the elderly juror who, in a racoon skin cap, admits to lying, cheating, loafing, and enjoying watching a hanging. Lincoln immediately accepts this juror because he recognizes his biases and is brutally honest in admitting his imperfections.

As long as a juror is candid about their biases and agrees to set them aside, such prospective jurors have all the makings of fine jurors.

Prima Facie (2019)

The next film is a filmed play named Prima Facie based on a play by an Australian lawyer turned playwright named Suzie Miller. She wrote about a barrister transformed from a litigator to a victim when she is sexually assaulted by a coworker in her chambers. She must go through the anguish of a trial, something familiar to her as counsel but vastly different when she becomes the victim. Actress Jodie Comer (Killing Eve) played the lead and won the Tony for best actress. Author/barrister Suzie Miller is someone who knows what she is talking about, having worked in the field of sexual assault and has a special insight into the challenges witnesses face in a courtroom. In 2026, it will become a theatrical motion picture starring Cynthia Erivo who was Elphaba in Wicked (2024) and Wicked for Good (2025). Prima Facie shouldn’t be missed, and if you have a chance to see the film or read the play, you will find it a valuable experience.

The main character does a terrific job in highlighting the incredible responsibility we place on jurors every day, in the following quote: “The only way the system works is because we all play our roles. My role is defense, The prosecutor, prosecutes; We each tell a story And the jury decide which story is the one they believe. They take the responsibility.”

On a personal note, this responsibility is something I see jurors take every day, sacrificing greatly. Their efforts should never be forgotten and we will always owe them a great gift of thanks.

12 Angry Men (1957)

12 Angry Men (1957) is a classic film expanded from a television film and has been remade and expanded into a play. It begins with a problem that many jurors have expressed and the urge to reach a snap decision so they can leave jury service. After one juror asks each juror to methodically analyze the evidence, the tone of the jurors goes from inflexible to inquisitive. The jurors, through emotional and tense deliberations, reveal their implicit and unconscious biases, but they show strength in seeing through their prejudices and focusing on the facts of the case.

Henry Fonda plays Juror Number 8, who steers the jurors into a thoughtful discussion. He makes a statement to the other jurors about the burden of proof that eloquently speaks of a juror’s role in evaluating a case. He says: “The burden of proof is on the prosecution. The defendant doesn’t even have to open his mouth. That’s in the Constitution.” The film is a masterwork in showing keen insight into the jury process.

The Verdict (1982)

The terrific director Sidney Lumet is responsible for many excellent films beginning with 12 Angry Men and also, The Verdict, an important film in the 1980s. Paul Newman plays an alcoholic plaintiff’s lawyer who has one last case to redeem himself. The script was written by David Mamet, who is a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright and screenwriter. The film involves a high-profile medical-malpractice case where the plaintiff is suing a Catholic hospital, and the high-powered defense firm has special influence with the judge, which makes this a nearly impossible task for plaintiff’s lawyer Frank Galvin.

Plaintiff’s expert witness and judicial intervention

Plaintiff has an expert witness who, through the actions of the defense, becomes unavailable. Frank Galvin must call an expert who, though he has adequate qualifications, pales compared to the defense team of experts. An issue comes up through Galvin’s direct examination where he asks about a certain medical procedure. The judge takes over the examination, isolates some points as to whether the patient being anemic could be an additional factor as a defense to negligence, and when the doctor agrees, the judge exclaims, in front of the jury, “So it isn’t negligence,” and then attempts to excuse the witness from testifying. Galvin objects and tells the court, “With all due respect. If you are going to try my case, I wish you wouldn’t lose it.”

This scene has always stuck with me because, as a judge, I am keenly aware of how a question I might ask might take on an importance to the jury more so than the questions asked by the lawyers, and even by the jurors.

There are numerous other issues and legal problems in The Verdict but the acting is stellar, the writing is strong, and there are many positive aspects of the legal system shown in the film. The final argument of Galvin, speaks eloquently about justice and the power of the jurors when he says:.

You are the law. Not some book... not the lawyers... not the, a marble statue... or the trappings of the court. See those are just symbols of our desire to be just. They are... they are, in fact, a prayer: a fervent and a frightened prayer. In my religion, they say, “Act as if ye had faith... and faith will be given to you.” If... if we are to have faith in justice, we need only to believe in ourselves. And act with justice. See, I believe there is justice in our hearts.

What closes this case and makes it memorable is that after Frank Galvin’s impassioned argument to the jury where he highlights the themes of justice and fairness, the jury shows they understand that power when they ask the Court if they can award an amount more than the plaintiff requested. Once told they could, we don’t find out the result, but it is not really necessary.

Rashomon (1951)

The next film is perhaps not properly cited as a courtroom film, but once viewed, I think you will agree it is really the foundation of all courtroom films and explains in dramatic form the problem’s inherent in judging witness credibility. Akira Kurosawas’ 1951 Rashomon is a film describing an incident from various points of view of the individuals involved, all with bias, involving a killing of a man by a roving bandit and the sexual assault of his wife in the 19th century in Japan. The bandit, the wife, and the ghost of the murder-victim husband, using a medium as an interpreter, and a woodcutter eyewitness testify through their own points of view. None of the stories are consistent, leaving the audience left to decide for themselves what really happened. It is abundantly clear how bias and self-interest affect each of the witness’s perceptions, completely in line with CACI 107. Each witness has biases that must be factored by the audience when they view the numerous conflicting flashbacks shown in the films.

Rashomon is probably the most important film on my list because it deals with the difficulty of getting to the truth. The term Rashomon Effect is used both in psychology and legal circles to describe how many individuals can see the same incident but describe it differently based on their own perspectives, memories, and biases.

Many times, I will mention to the jury that there are two sides to any story. Beyond that, it is sometimes said that there are three sides to a story: what one side says, what the other side says, and the truth. The jury has the difficult task in every trial in evaluating the evidence, following the law and determining that truth. Rashomon shows us that often this task can be an enormous responsibility and makes us better understand what great responsibility to evaluate factual disputes that we ask of juries every day.

To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

The next film, which is a classic to most lawyers and law students is To Kill a Mockingbird, whose portrayal of the beleaguered defense attorney who tries to fight against bias and prejudice won Gregory Peck an Oscar. It is a racially charged case in which an African American man is charged with sexually assaulting a white woman. The jury is white, and it is the job of Atticus Finch to defend Tom Robinson from these charges. Finch’s closing argument, which talks about the importance of the jury and how their mission rises above all others in the justice system is oft quoted and should be committed to memory for trial lawyers. While Atticus Finch lost the case, his words, his bravery, and his conviction when facing the jury is what is memorable. To Kill a Mockingbird is a helpful reminder that a lawyer’s duty is to protect their client and ensure justice should transcend the fact that lawyers do not always win all of their cases. There is a quote that has always stayed with me: “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.”

Gregory Peck passed away in 2003. The African American actor, Brock Peters, played Tom Robinson, defended by Atticus Finch, and killed when allegedly trying to escape after his conviction. After the film, Gregory Peck and Brock Peters became lifelong friends. Across the street from the Stanley Mosk Courthouse on Temple Street is the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels where Gregory Peck was buried in the mausoleum below the church. At the funeral, Brock Peters delivered the eulogy. A fitting tribute to two outstanding individuals who made a stirring masterpiece.

Bananas (1971)

Woody Allen’s Bananas was made early in his career. It is a spoof telling the story of a New Yorker who goes to a Latin American country, becomes its president and when he returns to New York, is charged with conspiracy to overthrow the government, among other charges. Woody Allen has stated in interviews that he ended Bananas with a courtroom scene because it was the easiest way to end the film in one room.

The courtroom scenes have three points that are actually instructive on the law. The first point is in selecting the jury. Woody Allen objects that there is not a single homosexual on the jury and someone from the jury yells out, “oh yes there is.” This is an amusing joke that also anticipates the protections that all people now have regardless of their sexuality from discrimination in serving on a jury.

The next point is during cross-examination of a police officer, Woody Allen as Fielding Mellish, asks a completely inappropriate question that clearly invades the officer’s privacy. The officer answers nonetheless and Woody Allen’s character says, “Just interested.” This freewheeling cross-examination is a subject that judges confront all the time. Lawyers will occasionally ask questions that are so far from the case as a matter of curiosity. The objection is “beyond the scope.” Most courts take the view that scope limited to direct examination is an appropriate objection unless it deals with matters of credibility. In a humorous way, and while it appears a little politically incorrect, it brings out this issue forcefully that examination should be well thought out and relevant to the issues in the case.

The last point in this courtroom scene is when Fielding Mellish, played by Woody Allen, representing himself, examines himself by switching seats from lawyer’s chair to witness chair, asking himself questions and then answering the questions. While I have had an attorney in my court recently request this question- and-answer procedure be followed, most courts take the position that self-represented litigants can instead present their testimony by narrative, if allowing enough time for opposing counsel to object.

Anatomy of a Murder (1954)

The film, Anatomy of a Murder, made in 1954 was written by a judge, John Voelker, writing as Robert Traver. It was based upon a case that the judge had as a lawyer involving the charge of murder against a man who he believed had sexually assaulted his wife. It deals with the mental defense of “irresistible impulse,” a defense not available in California, and details the brilliant probing of the machinations that lawyers have in preparing the case, cross-examining the witnesses, and exposing the flaws in each witness.
Jimmy Stewart plays the defense attorney defending, while George C. Scott, in his first role, is the prosecutor.

There are several impressive scenes in qualifying the expert witnesses and introducing the defense of irresistible impulse. The defense is successful and the defendant is acquitted. Jimmy Stewart’s older partner attorney makes a comment about jurors that is so memorable I have put the quote on my blotter on the bench. He says: “Twelve people go off into a room: twelve different minds, twelve different hearts, from twelve different walks of life; twelve sets of eyes, ears, shapes, and sizes. And these twelve people are asked to judge another human being as different from them as they are from each other. And in their judgment, they must become of one mind – unanimous. It’s one of the miracles of Man’s disorganized soul that they can do it, and in most instances, do it right well. God bless juries.”

When the case ends, after the Defendant is acquitted, Jimmy Stewart’s victory celebration is cut short when he is given a note written by the defendant that he and his wife have suddenly left without paying Stewart’s legal bills, stating that they decided to skip town “on an irresistible impulse.” Stewart stoically shrugs this setback off. The ending gave me much respect for the difficulty all lawyers sometimes have in representing their clients.

Compulsion (1959)

Richard Fleischer’s Compulsion is a fictionalized version of the notorious Leopold and Loeb case involving two young law students who killed a 15-year-old boy in 1924 for the fun of it following their twisted interpretation of Frederich Neitzche’s Superman ideology. Clarence Darrow defended Leopold and Loeb. The case was set for trial. But in an about-face, Clarence Darrow pled his clients guilty. Putting the issue of penalty and punishment to a judge resulted in a 12-hour closing argument, which has been quoted and inspired at least three films. In addition to Compulsion, there is Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope (1948), and Swoon (1992). Compulsion had the advantage of having one of the greatest actors and directors of our time, Orson Welles, deliver the closing argument in an abbreviated fashion in the spirit of Clarence Darrow. The closing argument should be studied to see how Aristotle’s use of logic or logos, societal norms or ethos and passion or pathos can be used to deliver a powerful argument that can convince a judge or a jury. Here, it was just the judge to fully bring out the issue of the potential sentence of his clients in a spirited argument against the death penalty. A brief portion of the abbreviated argument states: “What about this matter of crime and punishment anyway? Through the centuries, our laws have been modified. Till now, men looked back with horror at the hangings and killings of the past. It’s been proven that as the penalties are less barbarous the crimes are less frequent. Do I need to argue with Your Honor that cruelty only breeds cruelty?”

The argument succeeded and spared the lives of Leopold and Loeb. Whether or not you agree with Clarence Darrow, his use of words, logic, and examples from history are worthy of study. That is, with a time limit!

Inherit the Wind (1960)

Inherit the Wind is a brilliant dramatization of the Scopes Monkey Trial in 1925 in which Clarence Darrow defended John Scopes for teaching evolution. Opposing him was the brilliant William Jenning Byran who made the unwise decision of taking the witness stand and acting as a quasi-expert on the issue of creationism versus evolution. It resulted in damaging cross-examination, which occurred in real life, and in the film with Spencer Tracy cross-examining Fredrich March. In the real trial the testimony was never actually presented to the jury, but it brings up the whole issue of the danger of a lawyer becoming a witness and putting his own credibility in question. If this film and this examination of William Jennings Bryan teaches anything, it is that lawyers should present a case, not be the case. Sadly, William Jennings Bryan died days after the case, in which he was victorious. U.S Supreme Court Justice Robert H. Jackson cogently put it in his concurring opinion in Hickman v. Taylor, 329 U.S. 495 (1947): “Every lawyer dislikes to take the witness stand and will do so only for grave reasons. This is partly because it is not his role; he is almost invariably a poor witness. But he steps out of professional character to do it. He regrets it; the profession discourages it.”

The Fortune Cookie (1966)

Billy Wilder is one of the finest filmmakers that has ever come out of Hollywood even though his films began in Germany when he immigrated before World War II. He has made masterpieces in virtually every genre, whether film noir Double Indemnity (1944), a Hollywood film noir Sunset Boulevard, a comedy Some Like It Hot (1957), a courtroom thriller Witness for the Prosecution (1957), a dark comedy about social climbing The Apartment (1960) and a comedy about infidelity in The Seven Year Itch (1959).

He also has a witty and sardonic sense of humor, which was put to full use in The Fortune Cookie, a dark comedy about insurance fraud. Jack Lemmon plays a sports photographer injured after being accidentally tackled by a football player on the field. His brother-in-law is a personal injury attorney nicknamed “Whiplash Willie,” played by Walter Matthau, who won an Oscar for his performance. He sees a great opportunity to make tremendous amounts of money by exaggerating his brother-in-law’s injuries with the hopes of a huge settlement or getting an even larger one through convincing a jury that the case is worth a great deal. The film deals with three opposing forces, first “Whiplash Willie,” who does anything he can to inflate the value of the case, which includes lying and cheating. Jack Lemmon, who is a pawn in the case and is torn between wanting a windfall gained from this accident but also knowing it’s the wrong thing to do since he was barely injured. Finally, the insurance company and defense firm who surreptitiously gathers sub rosa evidence by renting an apartment close to Lemmon’s and filming his every move to try to show he is faking the severity of his injuries. This is probably the most cynical film I have ever seen in its portrayal of lawyers.

An example of his view of whether a slip-and-fall case has deep-pocket potential, Whiplash Willie says to his client: “I mean too bad it didn’t happen further down the street in front of the May Company. From them, you can collect. Couldn’t you have dragged yourself another 20 feet?”

Recently, I had a striking moment when a plaintiff’s lawyer in a personal-injury case asked a juror about one of her close acquaintance’s personal-injury lawsuits. The juror mentioned the name of a personal-injury firm that advertises heavily and had represented her friend and said, “You know, ambulance chasers.” The lawyer was an attorney for that law firm and, while the name of the law firm had not been mentioned, he fronted this information to the jury panel that he was a partner at that law firm and inquired whether she could be fair. His candor in addressing this information was impressive but it demonstrates that the cynical views expressed in The Fortune Cookie are still held by many individuals and must be tackled squarely and not ignored.

Conclusion

This is a list of some of my favorite films. I hope you will search for at least one or two for inspiration. They have helped me dig deeper in thinking about the law and justice. They also can clarify issues that would be difficult if a non-lawyer simply attempted to read opinions. I salute all those filmmakers and writers who have attempted to interpret our legal system.