With four weeks of 1L classes under my belt, I can affirmatively say that this whole law school experience is quite transformative. The time leading up to my first class (29 days ago!) was marked by a dizzying amount of unsolicited advice from upperclassmen, lawyers, professors, and family. Within the advice on how to not have a mental breakdown or flunk out of school was the idea that law school will change how you see the world. Reflecting on my 4-week long stint so far, I have already seen the relevance of this in my life. 

I recently found myself re-watching old favorite movies to decompress from the long law school days (there is seemingly no escape from the lessons learned in the classroom; I found myself saying under my breath “that’s a tort” as I watched characters on screen act negligently). One of my favorite films I recently rewatched is Moonrise Kingdom, which is set on an island off the coast of New England in the 1960s. Our protagonists, Suzy and Sam, are two twelve-year-olds who fall in love and run away from home. In typical Wes Anderson style, a series of obtuse events follows as the residents of their town search for the pair. Through my new legal lens, I rewatched this Anderson favorite with fresh thoughts to share.  

Doctrinal law principles are everywhere. Learning the legal system means you start to develop potential lawsuits in your head as you observe everyday interactions. Potential negligence claims lurk in the mishaps of Moonrise Kingdom’s Khaki Scout troops; the Scout Master walks through camp asking his scouts what they are doing. When one responds, “we’re building a treehouse,” the Scout Master asks “why is it up so high? Someone falls from there, that’s a guaranteed death.” Later, the Scout Master speaks with another scout who is riding a motorcycle in the middle of camp and issues him a citation for reckless cycling. Your mind starts to wonder: what would the cause of action look like if that ten-year-old drove that motorcycle through a crowd of people? How would we apply the reasonably prudent person (maybe child in this case) in a same or similar circumstance standard? Who would be responsible, the parents, the child, the Scout Master? 

In another scene, contracts caught my eye. Suzy and Sam write letters to each other planning out their escape. Sam writes to Suzy with a plan to leave, and she writes back to manifest her assent to the proposal. Now they need to figure out the terms of the agreement. They correspond on where and when to meet in detail. Pretty great efforts on the part of two twelve-year-olds, considering that in some of the contract cases we study, adults don’t specify the meaning of chicken in their dealings before buying said chicken. 

I found myself laughing at interactions between Suzy’s parents, two lawyers who can seemingly only speak in legalese. Before bed they discuss their days through court case updates. Mr. Bishop asks “did you file that motion of continuance? Peabody v. Henderson?” Ms. Bishop replies it was sustained. An interaction I once saw as two tight-lipped lawyers making comments I didn’t understand now has me intrigued about the case they were discussing. Civil procedure has taught me that the civil process is a game of strategy, so maybe these two are actually good lawyers, considering both of their motions have either been sustained or granted.

As my Law Practice instructor would emphasize, lawyers have to be okay with uncertainty. There isn’t always a right answer, and a problem may never have a definitive conclusion. In Moonrise Kingdom the motivations of our characters are not always clear, and the right course of action is hard to discern in the chaos of conflicting interests. In the town-wide search for Suzy and Sam, we see their neighbors grapple with their sympathy for the lovebirds and Sam and Suzy’s desire to run away from their unstable homes, while the townspeople are also determined to uphold the law and return the children to their legal guardians. So much of what we evaluate in my doctrinal classes are the social policies that drive the law.  We hope there are equitable and fair outcomes to legal questions, just as the film’s townspeople do. Judges’ decisions are constantly hindered by balancing acts. Balancing what is reasonable, what is fair, what is custom or traditional. Law school pushes you to consider alternatives and hypotheticals, and you often arrive at the conclusion that there is no one simple answer. 

Moonrise Kingdom is not an inherently legal-themed movie, and it may seem a stretch to ask a viewer to analyze it through a legal lens. But that’s why I found my changed perspective so interesting. Maybe even alarming– because I am convinced that I am quickly becoming the typical insufferable student who lives in their law-school world 99% of the time. 

Law school is challenging, often confusing, and will leave you sleep deprived. However, lessons learned here do permeate into your world view, and it is very rewarding to realize that your learning curve is at an all-time high. Where once you may have thought you had a grasp on the intricacies of your daily routines, you may end up seeking a deeper understanding of the world around you. Who knows? You might even find new insights buried in your favorite movie.

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Haley Cole is a first-year student at BC Law and brand new Impact blogger. Contact her at colehc@bc.edu.