Anna Bninski ‘23
Staff Editor
Among the DVDs gracing the shelves of the Arthur J. Morris Law Library is the 2017 film Paddington 2. Seeking some start-of-semester tranquility and anticipating marmalade-related escapades, I checked it out, little reckoning that a PG children’s-movie sequel would not only rend my heartstrings but also critique miscarriages of justice in the UK’s penal system.
(For those unlucky enough to never have encountered Paddington, here’s a run-down: He is a small, self-possessed Peruvian bear who first appeared in a 1958 novel by Michael Bond. Having stowed aboard a ship and subsisted on marmalade for the voyage, he arrived in London and was adopted by the Brown family, whose neighbors mostly take in stride the arrival of a talking bear. Hijinks precipitated by Paddington’s literalism, limited knowledge, strong moral sense, and extreme interest in marmalade ensue. Does that sound twee? It is. But it’s also wonderfully written, warmhearted, and very funny.)
Since Paddington was firmly ensconced with the Brown family at the end of Paddington, released in 2014, one could be forgiven for expecting that with any immigration issues resolved, the young bear would not be facing legal troubles in the sequel. Alas for Paddington, that is not the case.
Pictured: The most educational resource available in the Arthur J. Morris Law Library. Photo Courtesy of Anna Bninski '23.
The film opens with Paddington (ably voiced by Ben Whishaw) trying to find the best possible present for the 100th birthday of his Aunt Lucy, who lives in the Home for Retired Bears in Lima. However, things quickly go south when Paddington, attempting to interrupt an incident of breaking and entering, is mistaken for the thief of a valuable pop-up book.
Paddington is convicted, largely on the testimony of a washed-up actor named Phoenix Buchanan (played by Hugh Grant, who seems to be having the time of his life chewing through scenery). While the viewer may be certain that Buchanan’s testimony is suspect, a more pressing legal problem overshadows the progress of justice in Paddington’s case.
Those familiar with 28 U.S. Code Section 455(a) will recall that (a) “Any justice, judge, or magistrate judge of the United States shall disqualify himself in any proceeding in which his impartiality might reasonably be questioned.”
While, of course, United States federal law is not applicable, rest assured that the UK operates with a corresponding principle of judicial recusal: “A judge must step down in circumstances where there appears to be bias, or, as it is put, ‘apparent bias’. Judicial recusal is not then a matter of discretion . . . The test for determining apparent bias is now established to be this: If a fair-minded and informed observer, having considered the facts, would conclude that there was a real possibility that the judge was biased, the judge must recuse himself: see Porter v Magill [2002] 2 AC 357 at [102].” Mengiste and another v Endowment Fund for the Rehabilitation of Tigray and others, [2013] EWCA Civ 1003; [2013] WLR (D) 337.
The judge presiding over Regina v. Paddington Brown had, some short time prior to the case, encountered Paddington at the bear’s place of (brief) employment: a barber’s shop. A series of ursine mishaps led to the judge leaving with a bizarre marmalade-smeared tonsure. This surely qualifies as an “involvement with one of the parties in the past,” which Lady Justice Ardern, in the opinion cited above, identified as one of the circumstances that can require judicial recusal. The opinion also placed considerable stress on optics: “Courts need to be vigilant not only that the judiciary remains independent but also that it is seen to be independent of any influence that might reasonably be perceived as compromising its ability to judge cases fairly and impartially.” (Emphasis added.)
Regina v. Paddington Brown, by this standard, fails as an exercise of judicial power. Not only was I, as a viewer, aghast at the apparent judicial bias, but the ten-year sentence imposed on Paddington shocks the conscience. It is also unclear why Paddington, who is a young bear, was tried as an adult; although the age of criminal responsibility in the UK is ten, anyone under eighteen should be tried in youth court, and even offenders age eighteen to twenty-give are imprisoned in age-specific detention, not “a full adult prison.” Age of Criminal Responsibility, https://www.gov.uk/age-of-criminal-responsibility, retrieved February 3, 2021.
Because this is a family film, Paddington’s time of imprisonment is comparatively brief and includes a pastiche of the Great British Baking Show. But despite that levity, the film also explores how incarceration severs the social ties, leaving inmates feeling forgotten by their loved ones and understandably jaded about the inefficacy of the criminal justice system. No matter how much Paddington’s perseverance and will to see the best in others improve conditions in the prison, the fact remains: He’s a young creature unjustly removed from everyone he knows and loves, whose fictional plight can and should provoke thought about how people, not just bears, are treated by our institutions.
Opining that Paddington 2 is good is not a hot take (I see you, record-breaking 100% Fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes). But if your semester needs a heartwarming interlude with just enough legal intrigue to be written off as highly relevant research in common law systems, this movie is for you.
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amb6ag@virginia.edu