7 minute read
YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TUTE
Despite the ongoing coronavirus pandemic, and apparently a wild earthquake that shook all of LA twitter to its core, our friends at The Hollywood Hilarian have delivered once again and provided us with another excerpt from Quentin Tarantino’s much-anticipated swan song to cinema: Once Upon A Time In…Ligertwood. In this instalment, it appears that the film is tackling courtroom drama, a new arena for him as most of the criminals in his universe seem to inexplicably get off scot-free.
To assist in this new endeavour, it appears this portion of the script has been script-doctored by none other than Aaron Sorkin of The West Wing fame. Sorkin is no-stranger to the courtroom drama, and seems to be drawing on some of his earliest material, A Few Good Men, widely regarded as one of the most acclaimed courtroom dramas of all time, despite much of it originally being written on cocktail napkins when Sorkin worked as a bartender.
So without further ado, here is the second instalment of Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon A Time In Ligertwood: You Can’t Handle The Tute.
INT: a courtroom, possibly in the Sir Samuel Way Building on Victoria Square, but more likely to be Piper Alderman Moot Court in the Ligertwood Building.
The Courtroom is packed with law students, eager to get a glimpse of the proceedings that have gripped the law school for the past weeks. Student media have the cameras rolling.
The defence lawyers sit back in their chairs smugly, thinking they have the case in the bag. At the plaintiff’s table, Matty StubbyHolder and Steve ‘The Commodore’ Dales (Royal Australian Navy (Retd.) try to stifle their nervous energy probably brought on by too many coffees from St. Raph’s.
Steve: Matty, I don’t know what more we can do. What else am I supposed to do except impart my hands-on however-irrelevant knowledge of military and legal combat to the next generation?
Matty: Look Steve, it was always gonna be a fucking tough case. We’ve given it our all, but against the combined forces of the Law School Administration it was always gonna be difficult.
Steve: I guess so, I just hope the Navy will take me back then.
Suddenly, Steve is struck by a legal bolt of lightning, obviously recognisable to Matty and the defence, who for the first time in the trial have a moment of doubt flash across their faces.
Steve: I think I’ve got something.
Matty: What is it?
Steve: Just trust me.
Before Matty could mount an expletive-laden protest, the Sherriff’s Officer demands the assembled gathering to rise as Retired High Court Justice Michael Kirby, specifically brought in given his good relationship with Adelaide Law School, takes his seat in the judge’s chair.
Clerk: Dales v Adelaide University Law School
Kirby: Does the Plaintiff have anything else to add before they rest?
Steve jumps up, ready to fight for his legal life.
Steve: The Plaintiff wishes to call Mel DeaneBlack to the stand.
Shock erupts throughout the Court. Even Matty is questioning Dale’s Hail Mary of a legal decision. Calling the Dean to the stand was unheard of.
Mel Deane-Black, with a look of particular annoyance as if a First Year had just asked a question already answered in the Q&A Section of MyUni, takes the stand and is sworn in before Steve begins his cross-examination.
Mel: I don’t see why I have to be dragged in here all over again, I have a Law School to run.
Steve: Don’t worry Dean, I only have a few questions for you.
Mel: I should hope so, this inconvenience might only be countered by watching you make a fool of yourself. And it’s always nice to see my Associate Dean Matthew (gestures to Matty). Did I mention he’s going to be your replacement in International Law?
Steve, trying to obscure the feeling of betrayal that washes over his face, looks back at Matty in astonishment, only to find the same look on Matty’s face. He didn’t know.
Mel: I haven’t told him yet obviously, but if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll accept. After all, who’d give up the chance to be commanding officer to ‘The Commodore’. You’re not in the Navy anymore Steve, the administration is calling the shots.
Steve: I would let you keep digging yourself that hole Mel, but you’d only be putting your case against me in danger.
Mel: Grave danger?
Steve: Is there any other kind?
Steve: Now, are we clear on our roles here? That I ask the questions and you answer them truthfully?
Mel hesitates to answer for a second.
Steve: Are we clear?!
Mel: Crystal.
Steve: Good, now…
Steve trails off, and it is clear to everyone in the Court that he is about to embark on a change of tactics.
Steve: My question to you is this. For what possible reason can’t I lecture or tute in International anymore? I’ve created that course, I’ve earned my place. I want to know why you want to deprive First Years of some good oldfashioned real-world experience.
Mel (getting progressively more annoyed): You want answers?
Steve: I think I’m entitled to them.
Mel (boiling over): You want answers?!
Steve: I want the tute!
Mel: YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TUTE!
Mel: Steve, we work in a law school that has tutes, and those tutes have to be taught by tutors with talent. Whose gonna do it, you? My husband Frankie?
I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for the First Years, and you curse the administration. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That your removal, while tragic for you, probably saves time, and that my existence, while annoying and inconvenient for you, saves time.
You don’t want the tute because deep down in places you don’t talk about in front of First Years, you want more time for RUMLAE, you need more time for RUMLAE! We use words like efficiency, academic honesty, and KPIs. We use them as the backbone of a top-quality law school. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very salary that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said ‘thank you’, and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you go back to Harvard, and lecture on Iraq and Timor-L’Este there. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to!
The silence in the Courtroom is deafening, so much so that you can hear the whirring of the printers in the Sir John Salmond Law Library a couple of floors below.
Suddenly, a man in full Royal Australian Navy dress whites, who for once isn’t Steve stands. It is Rear Admiral Kevin Scarce AC, CSC, formerly of the Royal Australian Navy and now Chancellor of Adelaide University (until he resigned later that day under mysterious circumstances).
Kev: Mel, either Steve keeps his job, or you lose yours. (Turns to Kirby) Sound good to you Mike?
Kirby: Yep sounds good to me Kev, for once I don’t dissent. This Court is adjourned (bangs gavel).
Mel mutters something under her breath as she slinks back to her office. Steve is swarmed by the assembled crowd, which carry him off down to The Braggs to lecture first years on Law of the Sea. He exchanges a look of triumph with Matty before disappearing amid the throng.
The assembled gathering quickly disperse, until only Matty is left. He begins to leave, but then stops and takes one final look.
Matty: So this is what the inside of a courtroom looks like.
THE END.
Lack of due process aside, this collaboration between Tarantino and Sorkin is just about as much as could be hoped for by law students and film nerds alike. While we have the beginning and end of this merger of two of the best films of the past thirty years, we can only hope that The Hollywood Hilarian provides us with more excerpts from Once Upon A Time In… Ligertwood, and maybe even the movie itself once coronas changes its life direction and decides to get fucked.
By Will Broderick
