Even before Natalie Portman won her Best Actress Oscar for her role in Black Swan, critics and audiences alike were buzzing about her disturbing performance as a dedicated-but-delusional prima ballerina. Recently, however, the discussion of Portman’s performance has taken a turn towards the controversial, as Sarah Lane — an American Ballet Theater soloist and one of Portman’s Black Swan dance doubles — has emerged with allegations that Portman did just 5% of the full body dance shots seen in the finished film.

Lane claims she is the victim of a “cover-up” by the filmmakers. Although she commends Portman for trying “to go method” and losing “a lot of weight” for the film, Lane blasts her single’s dancing (if Lane is Portman’s double, doesn’t that make Portman Lane’s single?), saying Portman didn’t look “at all” like a professional dancer and couldn’t even dance in pointe shoes. Lane’s comments came just days after Portman’s choreographer-slash-baby-daddy Benjamin Millepied boasted to the Los Angeles Times that Lane did only a very minimal amount of dancing in the film and that “Honestly, 85 percent of that movie is Natalie.” Since Lane made her “5%” claim, however, the film’s producers, director and co-stars have come to Portman’s defense, with director Darren Aronofsky issuing a statement yesterday saying that of the 139 dance shots in the film, 111 — or, 80% — are Portman untouched, and when you consider screen time, 90% of the dancing is Portman.

Even if all the “did she or didn’t she” discussion surrounding Portman’s Oscar and dance performance misses the real issue — namely, that this should have been Annette Benning’s year — it did get me thinking about the use of doubles in film, and what potential legal claims actors and their doubles might have when situations like this arise. Continue reading the full story . . . »

Our loyal Law Law Land readers already know about the intrigue that surrounds so-called court “reality” shows like Judge Judy and The People’s Court. (For those who missed it, I broke the shocking news that — brace yourselves, people — those “courts” aren’t really courts at all.) So where can avid followers turn for a glimpse of real-life justice? In many cases, the public’s view of the inside of a court trial is limited to the lifelike renderings of the courtroom’s sketch artist. But occasionally, a judge decides to allow a video camera into the courtroom and we can watch the proceedings for ourselves.

Last month, Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Michael Pastor ruled that a television camera will be allowed in the courtroom for the involuntary manslaughter trial of Michael Jackson’s former doctor, Conrad Murray, for which jury selection began last week. Judge Pastor asked for the “absolute least-intrusive placement” of the camera and prohibited cameras from being present at jury selection.

Judge Pastor was able to make that ruling because in state courts in California, pursuant to California Rule of Court 1.150, “Photographing, recording, and broadcasting of courtroom proceedings may be permitted as circumscribed in this rule if executed in a manner that ensures that the fairness and dignity of the proceedings are not adversely affected.” Specifically, a judge “in his or her discretion may permit, refuse, limit, or terminate media coverage.”

In making his decision, the judge must take into account a whole litany of factors, including: the importance of maintaining public trust and confidence in the judicial system; the importance of promoting public access to the judicial system; the parties’ support of or opposition to the request; privacy rights of participants; the maintenance of the orderly conduct of the proceeding; and any other factor the judge deems relevant. In sum, a state court judge has a ton of discretion, especially because he can consider “any factor [he] deems relevant.” (I, for one, would propose a few additional factors for consideration, like “how to best avoid an O.J. Simpson trial-style media circus” or, a closely related inquiry, “how to not be Judge Lance Ito.”) Continue reading the full story . . . »