Protecting The Brand: Beyonce Knowles vs. The First Amendment

Remember when Beyoncé performed during the Super Bowl halftime show and this hilarious meme-birthing picture was taken?

And then she flipped out and tried to have it scrubbed from the entire internet?  Well, three months later and Queen Bey is back at it.  She's currently on her Mrs. Carter Show World Tour and she completely banned outside photographers, while releasing only pre-approved flattering pics to various news outlets.  Beyoncé's goal  is to have total control over her image, so instead of newspapers and websites running photos of her looking like She Hulk, she'll instead look like this:

Reasonable minds can argue whether the kind of control she's attempting is even possible in the internet age (hint: it isn't).  But I'm more curious about the effect that this kind of totalitarianism will have on her brand.  The conventional wisdom is that Beyoncé isn't doing herself any favors by limiting press access to her and having relentless control over the pressers that do get access.  On the face of it, it makes her seem out of touch with reality.  But is that harmful to her brand?  I'm not so sure. The people who love Beyoncé are already convinced of her beauty, talent, and semi-royal status and are willing to write off the unflattering pics as aberrations.  And the people who don't love her?  Well they certainly won't be convinced by these autocratic methods, but I don't think she's trying to win them over anyway. Beyoncé knows herself and her audience, and as long as they keep her rich and famous, that's probably enough.

I've seen it argued that Beyoncé's grasp on her self-awareness is tenuous at best if she thinks she can control her image to this degree, but I would argue that she's read the situation better than we giver her credit for.  After all, she hasn't sued anyone to take down the unflattering pictures (to my knowledge, she only sent polite email requests to various outlets), and that fact tells me that she knows where the line is between egomania and villainy and she's not willing to cross it.

So my guess is that while this probably won't make her MORE popular, her brand is as safe as any celebrity brand can be.  But I say that with one caveat: she should avoid alienating the press, because they're the ones who can bring about her destruction.  If you've seen Beyoncé in interviews - as well as the remarkably self-serving HBO documentary she directed about herself - it's clear that she is a person of extreme self-confidence.  And the confidence she has in her abilities has driven some of the press to turn on her and lose their own grasps on reality.

In particular, the National Press Photographers Association.  They're claiming that the restrictions placed on them by Beyoncé and her management team is preventing them from doing their jobs, and that violates the First Amendment.   No, sorry fellas.  I understand that you're angry at having your access to Beyoncé cut off, but the First Amendment isn't applicable here.  Constitutional Law 101 tells us that the First Amendment only prevents the federal government (and state governments through a process known as incorporation) from restricting your freedoms of speech, press, religion, etc.  It says nothing about whether a person or organization can restrict your First Amendment rights... because they can!  Behold the text of the First Amendment:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

As you can see, not a word leading you to believe that individuals (like Beyoncé!) or corporations (like Beyoncé!) can't place restrictions on the press at events.  In fact, all of the Amendments in the Bill of Rights are there to prevent the government from limiting your rights.  But they apply only to the government.  So while Beyoncé's ban on photogs at her concerts may not be the best PR move, there's no legal reason she can't do it.

When Below-The-Line Goes Over The Cliff: Class Warfare In Hollywood

If you have a friend or family member who works in the entertainment industry, then you've probably seen them change their Facebook profile picture or other social media avatar to this:

This image represents a green screen, a necessary tool for digital visual effects designers, the latest Hollywood sub-industry that's about to fall off its own fiscal cliff.  Most people don't know that Sunday's Oscar ceremony was picketed by members of the visual effects community trying to raise awareness about the financial hardships many in that industry face.  You see, Hollywood studios have basically been involved in a class war against below-the-line talent (like visual effects artists, writers, prop people, production designers, etc.) for some time now.  With movie budgets ballooning past all semblance of reality, many of the studios have started outsourcing the VFX work to cheaper locales overseas in order to take advantage of significant savings in cost and manpower, as well as tax breaks and subsidies.  For the artist who's slaved over a hot computer for years in order to make the physically impossible digitally possible, this relentless "cut costs at all costs" approach has resulted in long hours, poor working conditions, bad pay, no respect, and potential job loss.  Too make matters worse, most of the artists and the companies they work for don't get to participate in any profit sharing if the film is a hit.

When I lived in LA, I interned at two separate digital effects houses, one of them did the VFX for Smallville and the other was finishing up some VFX for Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest.  I saw first hand just what they went through.  Say what you want about the Pirates franchise, but there's no denying that the visual effects were stunning.  I think Davy Jones is the most perfectly realized digital villain ever made because of the blood sweat and tears those animators poured into him for 20 hours a day, seven days a week, for months on end without a break.  When the project ended, their pay was barely better than mine!

Anyway, this above-the-line/ below-the-line rivalry came to a head during this Sunday's Oscar telecast when Bill Westenhofer, a VFX supervisor for Rhythm and Hues, accepted the award his company won for their work on Life of Pi and had his mic cut when he started to talk about the financial difficulties facing his company.  In fact, Rhythm and Hues, the powerhouse FX company behind Babe, Happy Feet, The Incredible Hulk, 300, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Hunger Games just filed for bankruptcy because it kept getting underbid by oversea FX houses.  It didn't help matters when Ang Lee failed to thank the VFX guys in his Best Director speech and actively undermined the entire VFX industry a few days ago by publicly wishing that visual effects were cheaper.

IO9 has a nice write up here about the situation.  You should also read this piece by Drew McWeeny of HitFix, one of the best film critics on the web today. They explain better than I do why this is important.

As a film fan, this bugs the hell out of me because I want to see quality work made by people who are good at their jobs.  As a producer it frustrates me because I've seen too many people boxed out of deserving financial reward because they weren't powerful enough to fight for their rights.  As a human being and American, it angers me because this schism in the entertainment world pretty accurately mirrors the class war going on in the rest of the economy. And as a lawyer, it incenses me because there are so few legal avenues available for these guys to fight back, even if they are willing.

As a general matter, our current law is somewhere between 10-15 years behind the times; for all intents and purposes it's stuck in 1997. When it comes to protected groups, this country has done a good job legislating to protect people against discrimination based on race, gender, national origin, age, and disability.  But it's clear that Congress does not recognize any class division in this country and thus has no intention to protect class through legislation.  And make no mistake, above-the-line types like executives, directors, and producers are in a wholly separate financial class than the below-the-line talent like VFX artists and writers.  They're the ones living paycheck to paycheck.  They're the ones going without medical coverage so they afford gas to drive their kids to school, they're the ones who never know where the next paycheck is coming from and as a result rent their homes instead of owning because they could lose their job like *that* and heaven help them pay property taxes in LA with no money coming in.  So when the high muck-a-mucks make a decision to freeze out the VFX artists from getting any kind of financial or personal recognition, much like they did during 2007's Writer's Strike, it means that their legal options are few and far between.  In short, the VFX artists don't have any legal rights to fall back on outside of any contractual ones that might have been breached.

Devin Faraci over at Badass Digest (another of the web's best film journalists) suggested that it's time for the VFX artists to unionize, and I like that idea. But Devin also recognized that as a culture we've largely moved past that.  And really, it's not like belonging to the WGA helped the writers in 2007.  So what else can the artists do?  Well, raising awareness and generating public support is certainly key if they want to increase their bargaining power.  But to be honest, I don't really think they have a strong legal challenge here, and that pisses me off.  Our current law is just not adequately designed to help those who earn less than others, and now the VFX artists in Hollywood are going to be the next casualty.

147 Years Later, Lincoln is Still Relevant

[Author's Note: I discuss what may be considered spoilers below, so if you haven't seen Lincoln, or don't want to wikipedia the events surrounding the 13th Amendment's passage, read no further.]

There are two moments towards the end of Lincoln that made me realize why the film should be shown in every high school civics class.

In the first, Lincoln is surrounded by his advisers and they warn him that passing the 13th Amendment at the expense of a negotiated peace with the south is impossible.  In fact, it is tantamount to political suicide. By this point, however, Lincoln is exhausted from all the jabbering and naysaying and decides to put an end to it.  He doesn't want to hear why they CAN'T pass the Amendment, he wants to hear HOW they can pass the Amendment.  He wants to get his way, come hell or high water.  For only the second time in the film, Honest Abe loses his temper and thunders the most quotable line in the movie: "I am the President of the United States of America! Clothed in immense power!" The room goes silent and the point is clear: there is only one item on the President's legislative agenda that matters, passage of the 13th Amendment.

Shortly after, Lincoln goes to meet with the three negotiators hired by Secretary of State William Seward to get the 22 democratic votes needed in the House of Representatives to pass the Amendment. Lincoln not so subtly discusses with the negotiators - played by John Hawkes, Tim Blake Nelson, and James Spader - exactly how to "convince" these democrats how to vote across party lines in favor of the Amendment. Some of those convincing techniques involve bribery, threats, and favors to lame duck congressmen who weren't reelected (one settles for becoming the postmaster of his county).

Taken together, these scenes perfectly encapsulate the thematic bottom line of Lincoln: that politics is about getting things done, even if it means breaking the law to do it. Certainly the film has a lot more on its mind... bravery, morality, how little our political system has changed over the centuries. But make no mistake, Lincoln wants us to see how the sausage gets made, so to speak, and come away with the realization that lawmaking isn't a zero sum game. Just because your bill is righteous and takes the moral high ground doesn't mean it will pass automatically.  It is okay (and often necessary) to do a little evil in order to do a great good. Lincoln certainly believed that during his political life. The 13th Amendment, the largest progressive restructuring of America's social contract, happened mainly because palms were greased, wheels were dealed, and favors doled out... all at the order of the President of the United States (at one point, the vote on the Amendment is stalled when rumors arise that delegates from the south have come to seek a peace. Lincoln writes a note to be delivered to the Speaker of the House denying that such an event has happened... even though it is in fact true.  Lincoln's aide refuses to deliver the fraudulent note. Lincoln smiles, takes the note, tenderly holds the hand of his aide as if to say "I understand", and then gently hands it to another aide to deliver, who promptly sprints back to the Capitol building to deliver it.)

Today, the media saturates the American public with all the ups and downs, and ins and outs of our political system. As a result, we feel like we see a lot about how our laws are passed in this country. We understand that politicians vote along the party line and do not cross the aisle unless they are compelled to do so for a moral reason or because they've been "convinced." Lincoln argues this is indeed the case, but maybe that isn't a bad thing. Lincoln and his supporters have no compunction about buying the votes they needed in a flawed and messy system because they knew that the future of the country depends on the Amendment's passage. And while it's easy to get discouraged by the apparent lack of progress in this country, the film argues that America's system of passing and amending laws is painfully slow by design. It prevents zealots from taking over and changing the nation's social, political, and class structure on a whim. Real change takes a magnanimous effort to overcome the significant political inertia that's built up over time.  The result is this: when that change comes, it's here to stay.

Lincoln knew why the 13th Amendment was so important.  Like a canonball to the gut, it signaled that America was finally on the path towards achieving the heart and soul of the Declaration of Independence: "we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." That's a battle we're still fighting today, but at least we're winning it. Even still, Lincoln doesn't shy away from the messiness of that balancing act. In one scene, he discusses the 'slipperiness' of his interpretation of his powers. In yet another scene, he acknowledges to another character that he has no idea what's in store for the country or it's black population after the Amendment passes. But he knows that this is a battle that needed to be fought, and he was going to use every tool in his arsenal (regardless of its legality) to win that battle.

It's a pragmatic view. It's a realistic view. It's a view that understands morality has a place in politics, but should not get in the way of politics. It is completely unromantic and it cuts against the moral righteousness and manifest certainty we are taught about our country. And that's exactly why it should be taught in our schools. We need to have a much more sophisticated understanding of how our government works. Only then can we get our government to truly work for the people. Lincoln is a masterpiece because it doesn't coddle us and give us the 5th grade version of things. It's a masterpiece because it understands that we can still do great things, even when we do them wrongly.

You Have The Right To Be Paid: Death of the Unpaid Internship

Over the life of this blog I will probably spend a lot of time talking about lawsuits that affect the arts and entertainment world.  You may find some of them boring and some of them engaging.  But even if you decide that talking about pending legal cases isn't fun or interesting, I implore you to pay attention to these two, since they deal with a subject we can all get behind: getting paid for your work.

Last year, Eric Glatt and Alexander Footman, two interns who worked on the film Black Swan, sued the film's distributor Fox Searchlight, claiming that the company's unpaid internship program violated minimum wage and overtime laws.  They argue that they went unpaid, even though they were required to fill out I-9 forms, sign confidentiality agreements and were deemed "employees" covered under workers' compensation laws.  They're now trying to have the case turned into class action.  You can read about the case here and here.  Fox has since amended its program to begin paying interns $8.00 per hour.

Likewise, earlier this year, Diana Wang, a former intern of Harper's Bazaar Magazine filed a suit against the publisher, Hearst Inc., for failing to pay her despite working a full-time schedule (upwards of 55 hours per week).  That case has recently been granted class action status.  Both cases hope to be the death knell for the unpaid internship.

According to Glatt, he took the internship at Fox because he was trying to break into the film business and was told by numerous people that taking an unpaid internship was a necessary stepping stone to eventual paid work.  In fact, due to the Great Recession and persistent jobless claims, unpaid adult internships have been on the rise nationally and have spilled over into a number of industries, not just the glamorous ones like publishing and entertainment.  Glatt argues that unpaid internships are detrimental because "they disrupt the labor market for entry-level workers by forcing people at the beginning of their careers to work for no pay and suppressing wages for people who have been on the job for several years."

I've personally seen the effects Glatt is talking about and he's totally right: entry-level workers get paid in "experience" and mid-level worker pay rates drop to entry-level rates.  When I first started producing television, a producer's day rate was somewhere between $250-350 per day.  As unpaid internships proliferated, producer rates fell to the average day rate of a production assistant - $100-200 per day (for those not in the know, a production assistant is the lowest rung on the entertainment ladder.  The only thing lower than a production assistant is... you guessed it, an unpaid intern).  As a result, production assistant rates dropped and those positions often became filled with interns willing to do the job for free.

This is why I believe the outcome of these cases will be really important:  first, if Glatt, Footman, and Wang win, those victories may stabilize the markets for new and experienced workers alike by preventing drops in wages; second, companies will be forced to scale down their unpaid internship programs or take greater care to make sure they conform to the law (more on this in a bit); lastly, they will validate an area of law that is well established, but rarely gets enforced because so few people are willing to stand up against the companies that employ armies of unpaid interns.  Under the Fair Labor Standards Act (FSLA), internships are considered regular employment unless they meet these six criteria outlined by the Department of Labor:

1. The internship... is similar to training which would be given in an educational environment;
2. The internship experience is for the benefit of the intern;
3. The intern does not displace regular employees, but works under close supervision of existing staff;
4. The employer... derives no immediate advantage from the activities of the intern...
5. The intern is not necessarily entitled to a job at the conclusion of the internship; and
6. The employer and the intern understand that the intern is not entitled to wages for the time spent in the internship.

If the internship meets all six criteria, then the employer is not responsible to pay the intern as a regular employee.  Of course, Glatt, Footman, and Wang are arguing that the criteria were not met and they should have been paid as regular employees. [Side note: as with many of the federal websites, the Department of Labor is a very useful resource for people who want to know if their employer is violating their rights].

I think there is some legitimacy to unpaid internships if there is an actual educational component; mostly as a real-world training tableau for students.  During my first year in Los Angeles, I took 7 unpaid internships.  Some of them were beneficial and I learned a lot.  I was taught how to edit, direct, and produce (sometimes just by watching, but sometimes I was lucky enough to have a mentor who taught me).  More often than not, however, the internships were a flimsy pretext for free labor.  Often, I was relegated to picking up coffee and taking lunch orders.  I frequently used my car to make deliveries and was compensated neither for the miles I drove nor the gasoline I expended.  I once spent an entire month at a Venice-based editing studio and not a single person there learned my name (they kept calling me Marcus for some reason).  I even worked unpaid on a decent-sized film for 96 straight hours without a break.  I did all this in the hopes of making a name and eventually getting paid work.  And while paying gigs did eventually come, there's no reason I had to accept unpaid work to get there.

In the coming months, I'll be working on a project called "The Artist's Bill of Rights," a resource for artists to learn their rights. I don't mind spoiling the First Amendment which is, in my opinion, the most important:

YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE PAID

After all, as an artist, your work is your livelihood, and being paid for your work is a statement about your worth to yourself and to the project.  Directors, producers, and publishers don't work for free; neither should you.  But if the circumstances are right and you are willing to give away your work, you should know exactly what you're getting in return.  Most young artists will take an unpaid internship at one point in their careers and if they do, I hope the information I posted above will help them make smart decisions about what they can expect out of the internship.  And hopefully, if these cases find in favor of the plaintiffs, the days of interns fetching coffee and dry-cleaning without pay are numbered.

The Legal Implausibility of Crimson Tide, or How To Find Drama Within The Constraints of Reality

(Author's note: when I first heard about Tony Scott's death last night, it got me thinking very critically about his body of work.  I've often been a fan and I think that Crimson Tide, Enemy of the State, and Spy Game emerge as a near perfect trifecta of paranoid-intellectual popcorn cinema.  They're action films with a brain.  As I got to thinking about his films and the various legal issues surrounding them, there was one that I couldn't shake, and that is the subject of this post.   Whatever Scott's demons, he was an inventive and visually kinetic director who knew how to direct actors, create tension, and weave propulsive narratives.  He may never be considered the auteur that his brother Ridley was, but his is a voice that will sorely be missed).

About two years ago, in response to criticism that his script for “The Social Network” deviated from the reality of Facebook’s founding, Aaron Sorkin said, “I don't want my fidelity to be to the truth; I want it to be to storytelling.”  It was right for him to say this because the job of Hollywood is to tell stories.  Sorkin and director David Fincher were not, after all, making a documentary about Mark Zuckerberg.  They were telling a story, the driving force of which is drama.  I think that most people generally accept this.  They know that they’re not watching something that is literally true; they understand that when they see the words “based on a true story”, the real story is an inspirational launch-point for what they are about to see and not a word-for-word retelling.  I am one of those people.

But sometimes the demands of creating drama, conflict, and tension distort reality to such a degree that I must fundamentally reject what I am seeing on screen.  This happened to me with the 1995 submarine action film Crimson Tide.

Before I get started with the legal analysis, I want to say first that Crimson Tide is, above all else, a Masters-level course on pacing, tension, and drama.  Any filmmaker who desires to make tightly scripted thrillers should add Crimson Tide to his or her diet.  Furthermore, despite the legal impossibility of the film’s ending, it is still a fantastic yarn filled with excellent performances by Gene Hackman (my all-time favorite actor) and Denzel Washington.  The score, by Hans Zimmer, is what we in the film industry refer to as “awesome.”  Tony Scott's direction is as clear as it's ever been.  Even after what I am about to say, I will still watch Crimson Tide and enjoy the first 111 minutes of its 116-minute run time.

The ending is what we in the legal field refer to as “total garbage.”  The film, as you may remember revolves around a mutiny on board the U.S.S. Alabama, a nuclear attack sub.  The mutiny is led by Denzel’s dashing and popular Lt. Commander Ron Hunter against Hackman’s gruff but respected Captain Frank Ramsey.  During a skirmish with a Russian sub, communications between the Alabama and the National Command Authority are cut off.  The Captain believes that the Alabama has been ordered to fire its nuclear payload, while Commander Hunter wants to wait and reestablish communications to find out if the Alabama has been ordered to launch.  Time, as you might expect, is not on their side.  A Russian splinter group has taken control of that country’s nuclear stockpile and has threatened to launch its own missiles against Washington D.C. within the hour. (I love this movie so much that I just typed the entire plot of the film from memory, not once referring to Wikipedia).

The problem with the movie occurs in the last ten minutes of the film.  The standoff between Hunter and Ramsey ends when a cadre of sailors loyal to Hunter reestablish communications with the National Command Authority and discover that the Alabama has been ordered to stand down.  The Russian splinter group has been defeated by the Russian army and the nuclear stockpile has fallen back into the hands of U.S. allies.  Despite tearing the ship’s crew apart, Hunter has just saved the world from nuclear annihilation.  A few weeks later, Ramsey and Hunter stand before a dais of admirals who chew them out over the mutiny.  Instead of being court-martialed, however, Hunter learns that Captain Ramsey recommended that Hunter be promoted and given his next command at the next possible convenience.  The two men shake hands and literally walk off into the sunset! Pardon my legal jargon, but WHAT THE HELL?!!

Hunter had just led a mutiny aboard a U.S. Navy vessel in a time of war.  I refused to believe that he would have gotten off without so much as a slap on the wrist.  So I looked into it and here’s what I found:

Article 94 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ) states that “any person… who…with intent to usurp or override lawful military authority, refuses, in concert with any other person, to obey orders or otherwise do his duty or creates any violence or disturbance is guilty of mutiny….” For those who are interested, the provable elements for mutiny can be found here.  I won’t spend this time analyzing whether Hunter’s actions constituted mutiny since pretty much every major character within the film admitted that it was in fact mutiny; For the sake of brevity, I’ll take the film at its word.

What I’m much more interested in here is the punishment.  Article 94 says that, “[a] person who is found guilty of attempted mutiny, mutiny, sedition, or failure to suppress or report a mutiny or sedition shall be punished by death or such other punishment as a court-martial may direct.”  The text of the UCMJ isn’t helpful in determining what factors a court-martial would use in sentencing a mutineer, so I dug around further and discovered that there has never been a documented case of mutiny on a United States naval vessel.  Thus, there is no precedent in the modern era for determining how a mutineer on a U.S. naval vessel during a time of war would be charged and sentenced under Article 94.  Since I'm not a military man, I wanted to get a military perspective on the situation, so I posed this question to my friend and colleague Matt Brecher who had worked in the U.S. Army Judge Advocate General Corps. This is what he said:

“The maximum punishment is death, however [the mutiny] would more likely be punished by a dishonorable discharge and a lengthy prison sentence in a military prison, loss of all rank, and forfeiture of all pay.  Aggravating factors leaning toward life imprisonment or death would include mutiny during a time of war.  However, it may be a defense to such a charge if an order or leadership is unlawful, or if the person committing such act is acting pursuant to a regulation or order authorizing their act.”

Matt goes on to say that, “[g]enerally, if he were actually charged with mutiny, I would expect a General Court Martial (as opposed to a special or summary court martial), meaning that the court is empowered to issue any type of punishment authorized under the UCMJ, including death, life in prison, and dishonorable discharge.  The factors to consider would be the legality of the original commander's actions as commander, and whether there were legal grounds for the "mutinous activity."  This might include the commander becoming unfit for command, but would likely require a naval regulation authorizing his relief."

Surprisingly, Matt does not think that Hunter would be court-martialed for mutiny.  "I would not expect a mutiny charge, but rather a charge of disobeying a lawful order, disrespecting a commissioned officer, and other lesser included offenses.  They would likely each receive a letter of reprimand in their permanent fiche at the very least.”

While reasonable minds can disagree on the severity of the punishment and the type of administrative hearing Hunter would receive, he would certainly have received some sort of punishment.  Just because Ramsey liked the guy and recommended him for promotion wouldn’t absolve him of guilt.

So Scott flubbed the ending in an attempt to give the audience a happy ending.  This makes total sense… when you’ve just put the audience through a non-stop tension-filled thrill ride where nuclear Armageddon was imminent, you understand that the audience needs a catharsis.  But being a film-buff and also a shameless revisionist, I believe such a catharsis could have been reached while still maintaining some semblance of reality.

Obviously, we can’t have Hunter given the maximum punishment (death) because Denzel is our protagonist and we like him.  Furthermore, the final scene demonstrates that Scott was keen on showing that Ramsey developed a profound respect for Hunter because Hunter bucked authority to do what he thought was right – he was his own man. My preferred ending to Crimson Tide ends thusly:

Ramsey meets Hunter for coffee two years after the incident.  Hunter has just been released from a military prison.  It is revealed in their conversation that Ramsey visited Hunter often in prison, bringing him books on military history (including a copy of Von Kriege by Carl Von Clausewitz - callback to an earlier scene!) and had grown to respect Hunter for standing up for what he believes in.  It is also revealed that Hunter was given a significantly reduced sentence (including a dishonorable discharge) because of his stellar record, because his actions averted nuclear catastrophe, and because Ramsey testified at the court-martial defending Hunter’s actions.

The benefit of such a scene would bring full circle a theme that the film played with tangentially in the early going: how a man’s will intersects with the rigid structure of the military.  An ending like this could show that Hunter was too willful to be a military man (something the film toyed with in Denzel’s early scenes with Hackman) and that being his own man in a world of rules and regulations would cost him dearly.  It would also have the desired effect, showing the growing friendship between two former enemies.  Lastly, an ending like this would have kept the happy ending the audience craved, been truer to real life, and helped an already excellent action film become a Great Film.  Full stop.