Weird Al and Parody: Why It's Better To Ask Permission Than Beg Forgiveness

There’s a saying that’s become popular in recent years: "it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.” There’s a lot of appeal there for the Type-A, take-charge types and I completely understand it... if you want results, just do it since apologizing after the fact will be easier than fighting through red tape beforehand. Grace Murray Hopper, a former Navy admiral coined the term and you can see why. She was a career military woman and computer scientist and likely spent a great deal of time fighting through bureaucracy and institutional misogyny to get anything done.

In that context, the phrase has a lot of cache. As a lawyer who advises artists, however, I think it's a one-way ticket to bankruptcy. I've said as much before, but I bring it up again because Weird Al Yankovic is back with his latest album Mandatory Fun, and as always happens when Weird Al resurfaces, people are amazed to discover that he asks permission from other artists to parody their songs. Here's a snippet from a recent NPR interview with him:

NPR: Is it true that you don't need permission to do a parody of a song?

Weird Al: Legally, I say it's a gray area. I could get away with not getting permission, but I've never wanted to get away with that. I think it's more taking the high road to make sure that the artist feels like they're in on the joke. I want them to know that it is in fact an homage, it's a tribute. Like I say, it's more a poke in the ribs than a kick in the butt.

Not only is that an ethically sound practice, but it’s also correct from a legal standpoint. It’s generally understood in the entertainment world that parody - the art form Weird Al trades in - is considered fair use (i.e. it's not considered infringement under U.S. copyright laws). That's because a parody is designed to poke fun of a work of art rather than directly profit from it.

HOWEVER! That’s not the whole story. There are gray areas when dealing with fair use, and Weird Al gets that. He knows that parody alone doesn't give him unlimited permission to use someone else's copyright without permission. There are other factors weighed by the courts in determining if something is fair use, such as the commercial nature of the parody (i.e. is it financially profitable?), and the effect it has on the market for the work that's being parodied (i.e. does the mere existence of the parody cause consumers to stop buying the original work?). Depending on these and other factors, Weird Al knows that his work could, in some situations, be considered copyright infringement.

So he doesn't leave it up to chance and say "Whoops my bad" whenever he gets caught. He asks permission up front and if an artist refuses, he doesn't parody the work (here's a list of artists who refused to let Weird Al parody them). What Weird Al knows - and other artists out there would do well to remember - is that when your livelihood depends on using the copyrighted works of others, sometimes it's truly better to ask permission than to beg forgiveness. With money on the line, they may not be so inclined to forgive you.

Protecting The Brand: Katherine Heigl Sues Duane Reade To Protect Her Publicity Rights

Katherine Heigl has never been a lovable celebrity. Throughout her career, she's bad-mouthed her projects and coworkers to such a degree that Hollywood and the public have largely turned on her. Some have even dubbed her "Hollywood's Most Hated Actress." Lately, it appears she's taken a page out of Sheryl Sandberg's playbook and is leaning in to that title; last week she sued NY-based drugstore chain Duane Reade for $6 million after they tweeted a picture of her leaving one of their stores after shopping there. If she wins, she plans to donate that money to charity... her own charity.

To be sure, this lawsuit isn't going to win her any fans. But then it's not really designed to; it's designed to protect her publicity rights. And using that as a guidepost, Ms. Heigl may actually have a point. Here's the tweet in question:

Heigl's complaint alleges violations of the Lanham Act (the law governing trademarks) as well as New York Civil Rights Laws Sections 50 and 51 (which govern privacy). I'm not going to address the trademark issue here because she would have to prove that Duane Reade's use of her picture would likely confuse the public into assuming she was affiliated with Duane Reade. I just don't think the facts are compelling enough to make that claim (the average person will not conflate shopping at a store with endorsement of it). As I see it, this case is more likely to turn on the privacy issue anyhow.

Section 50 of the NY Civil Statutes says that:

A person, firm or corporation that uses for advertising purposes, or for the purposes of trade, the name, portrait or picture of any living person without having first obtained the written consent of such person, or if a minor of his or her parent or guardian, is guilty of a misdemeanor.

That kind of says it all, doesn't it? The image of a person (famous or not) cannot be used in advertising without their consent - which Ms. Heigl obviously did not give. In common law, this would be referred to as "appropriation of likeness" which is considered one of four privacy rights. So does the tweet count as advertising? Based on the nature of the tweet and the wording, I think a convincing argument can be made. After all, why would Duane Reade tweet that picture if there wasn't a business motive behind it? It's not like the picture was taken by an awe-struck fan... the picture was taken by a paparazzo which was then used by a corporation whose message on Twitter and Facebook was clearly that "Ms. Heigl is a patron of our stores."

Even still, this infraction seems relatively harmless... certainly not worthy of $6 million of Heigl's wrath. And it does raise some questions about the nature of publicity rights as used by celebrities. On the one hand, social media has made it difficult for people to know where the line is between advertising and simply pointing out "here's a celebrity!" While I think the tweet counts as advertising, I could be convinced otherwise with some clever lawyering. There are also First Amendment questions at stake - can a corporation never tweet a picture of a famous patron? Is such a tweet automatically advertising by its nature? And would banning those types of tweets violate the right to free speech? On the other hand, celebrities rely on their images to get work, and having that image appropriated for a use they never approved could result in a loss of work or even ruin business relationships (e.g. what if Ms. Heigl just worked out a deal to be a spokesperson for CVS? The tweet of her shopping at a competing drugstore could destroy that deal).

I know, I know. It's hard to care about how Duane Reade's tweet may negatively impact Ms. Heigl. That's the level of damage she's done to her personal brand. And this lawsuit, however justified, doesn't do anything to help her image. For her sake, I hope she realizes that legal protection of a brand is not the same thing as public protection. The former is fine, but if she wants to continue acting, it will be crucial for her to work on the latter.

When Rowling Met Galbraith: How An English Lawyer Broke The One Unbreakable Rule All Lawyers Must Follow

This past April, a former military police officer named Robert Galbraith released his debut novel, The Cuckoo's Calling to stellar reviews but terrible sales, selling only 1500 copies. As sales floundered, a British lawyer named Chris Gossage confided to his friend Judith Callegari that Galbraith wasn't a real person, but was in fact the pseudonym for J.K. Rowling, the most famous author in the world. Callegari then did what most of us would do when handed such a world-shattering piece of gossip - she blabbed to anyone who would listen, including a reporter. With the cat out of the bag, sales of Cuckoo skyrocketed to #1 on Amazon.

It's not hard to see why Rowling would do this. As wealthy and successful as Harry Potter made her, the pressure to rebel against typecasting must have been overwhelming. Following the release of Deathly Hallows in 2007, she sought to distance herself from the world of magic by writing a novel for an adult audience. The result was The Casual Vacancy, a thriller which sold like gangbusters, but was panned by critics. I imagine she took a great deal of satisfaction knowing that while Cuckoo wasn't popular when everyone thought Galbraith had written it (it's not like she needed the money), it found love from the very people who felt she could never write a book that wasn't aimed at children. She admitted as much on her website, saying that it was nice to be able to publish "without hype or expectation." So while Rowling was displeased with her identity being leaked, she had still proven her point.

Not everything worked out so well for Gossage though, a partner at the firm that represented Rowling. She sued the firm because he breached the inherent confidence present in the attorney-client relationship (which usually applies to the whole firm even if Gossage himself wasn't representing Rowling).  Even worse, he was just slapped with a fine by the Solicitor's Regulation Authority (the organization that oversees attorney ethics in England) for violating a client's trust.

Regardless of which side of the pond you live on, attorney client confidentiality is a pretty big deal. In most cases, by the time a client seeks the aid of a lawyer, a crisis has happened and the client is often in the midst of a deep personal anxiety. Not only are they emotionally fragile, they are dealing with issues that might require the divulging of sensitive information. Anything from sexual abuse, to financial indebtiture, to murder is on the table, and needs to be discussed frankly in an open and safe environment. If the client can't feel comfortable discussing these issues, then the lawyer can't give the best legal counsel he or she has sworn to provide.

That trust is so important that every country with a judicial system has a rule protecting attorney-client confidentiality. In Massachusetts, where I practice, Rule 1.6 of the Rules of Professional Conduct states that:

A lawyer shall not reveal confidential information relating to representation of a client unless the client consents after consultation.

Without the client's express consent, a lawyer can only reveal confidential information in certain limited circumstances:

1. If it would prevent someone from sustaining substantial bodily harm or death,
2. To obtain legal advice about ethics,
3. To defend himself against allegations of legal misconduct, or
4. To comply with another law or court order.

All 50 states have a rule like this. Depending on the severity of the violation, a lawyer can be punished with fines (as Gossage was), disbarment, or even jail time. Most lawyers take client confidentiality very seriously, not just out of fear of punishment by the local examining board, but because it's the right thing to do.

Every American law student knows the tale of Frank Armani and Francis Belge, two American lawyers who represented Robert Garrow, who was accused of murdering Philip Domblewski in 1973 while Domblewski was camping in the Adirondacks with friends. During a consultation with Armani and Belge, Garrow not only admitted to killing Domblewski, he admitted to murdering and raping several other people. Garrow told them where he dumped the bodies, and his story was confirmed when Armani and Belge personally went to those sites to investigate and photograph the remains.

But because Garrow was their client, Armani and Belge couldn't tell the family members of the deceased where the bodies were.  In fact, Armani and Belge kept silent for nearly a year, despite intense public pressure (they finally disclosed what Garrow had told them after Garrow admitted to the murders during trial). Because they had taken an oath to protect their clients' confidences (no matter how reprehensible), Armani and Belge were not able to discuss what Garrow told them without incurring potential legal repercussions.

In the grand scheme of things, the £1000 (about $1600) Gossage was fined amounts to little more than a slap on the wrist. Gossage claims that he himself is a victim of betrayed confidence, believing that Callegari would keep the secret. Regardless of his excuses, Gossage just learned a valuable lesson about talking out of school, especially when the client is as well-known as Rowling. He should count his lucky stars that she's a world-famous billionaire author, and not a psychotic rapist killer like Garrow.