Legal Theater, Moral Collapse
What courtroom comedies and supernatural thrillers reveal about ambition, identity, and the cost of winning.
“Vanity… is my favorite sin.”
— John Milton, The Devil’s Advocate
We talk a lot about truth in law.
But most legal battles aren’t about truth.
They’re about who tells the better story.
I’ve been watching a strange mix of lawyer films lately — The Devil’s Advocate, Big Daddy, and Intolerable Cruelty. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different. One’s a supernatural thriller. One’s a custody battle disguised as a comedy. One’s a Coen Brothers divorce satire. But peel them back, and they’re all about the same thing:
Winning the argument — and losing your soul.
Act I: The Courtroom as Stage
Law isn’t just about evidence. It’s performance.
A suit. A script. A spotlight.
In The Devil’s Advocate, Keanu Reeves plays a hotshot defense attorney who can spin any narrative. Guilty clients walk. Innocents suffer. But he keeps winning. He’s the guy who never loses — until he realizes he’s not arguing law anymore. He’s arguing for his ego. And Satan’s in the front row, clapping.
Meanwhile, in Intolerable Cruelty, George Clooney plays a divorce lawyer who’s mastered the art of legal seduction. The courtroom is foreplay. Contracts are love letters. Until he finally meets someone who plays the game better. It’s not just his heart on the line — it’s his identity.
And then there’s Big Daddy. Adam Sandler hacks the legal system with fake Social Security numbers and charm. He wins the judge’s sympathy. But when the verdict hits, the kid is taken away. He gets what he wanted — just not the way he wanted it.
Act II: The Cost of Convincing
Here’s the thing:
Winning feels good.
But it doesn’t always make you right.
In each of these films, the protagonist is rewarded — until they realize the reward is hollow.
Clooney gets the win… and ends up alone.
Keanu gets the job… and becomes a puppet.
Sandler gets the custody hearing… and still loses the kid.
What’s being judged isn’t just evidence.
It’s morality.
What’s collapsing isn’t just character.
It’s identity.
Act III: Content Strategy and the Courtroom
The best lawyers don’t argue facts.
They argue belief.
Same goes for content strategists, brand storytellers, and leaders.
We craft narratives to persuade. We chase impressions. We win traffic wars.
But if we’re not careful, we lose the trust that makes any of it matter.
“You convinced them. Now what?”
The brand looks great.
The client is happy.
But the soul of the story? Gone.
Curtain Call
There’s a line in The Devil’s Advocate that still rattles me:
“The law, my boy, puts us into everything. It’s the ultimate backstage pass.”
And that’s the danger.
When your life becomes a case…
When your career becomes a courtroom…
When every decision is a win-or-lose argument…
Eventually, you stop asking:
What’s right?
And start asking:
What works?
Closing Note
If the courtroom is theater,
Then the stories we tell — at work, online, in life — are always on trial.
And the verdict?
If you have to perform your way into trust,
You probably already lost it.