Category: Art

Decision in Seuss/Trek Mashup Case is One for the Books

Last week, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals issued a fair use decision in Dr. Seuss Enterprises (DSE) v. ComicMix. After oral arguments were presented in April, I wrote about this case as an example from which creators could learn what not to do when they propose to make substantial use of protected works—especially very famous works. The lawsuit involves an unpublished book called Oh, the Places You’ll Boldly Go (Boldly), a Dr. Seuss/Star Trek mashup that principally uses material from Seuss’s Oh, the Places You’ll Go! (Go!).

The appellate panel held unequivocally that ComicMix’s fair use defense failed on all four factors, and I imagine this opinion will be cited for years to come because the court so clearly inked fresh lines around several fair use principles that many avid copyright critics have endeavored to blur or erase through litigation, academic writing, or public editorial. To summarize, the Ninth Circuit opinion written by Judge McKeown held that Boldly was not a parody under factor one; that because the works copied are expressive, fair use did not favor ComicMix under factor two; that ComicMix’s use of the original works was both quantitatively and qualitatively substantial under factor three; and that Boldly represented significant potential harm to DSE’s market under factor four.

Understanding Parody

In that April post, I suggested a guideline for creators that if one truly intends to parody a work, especially a work that is instantly recognizable, that one need not engage in extensive, verbatim copying to achieve that result. In the case of Boldly, I maintain that the amount of detailed copying, which is weighed under fair use factor three, militates against ComicMix’s claim that the book is a parody at all, which is considered under factor one. As the opinion reminds us, the four factors of the fair use test are interdependent:

[The first] factor has taken on a heightened significance because it influences the lens through which we consider two other fair use factors. The third factor—the amount and substantiality of use—‘will harken back’ to the first factor. And the fourth factor, relating to market harm, is influenced by whether the commercial use was transformative.

Considering the factors in order, the court first held that:

Boldly is not a parody. ComicMix does not seriously contend that Boldly critiques or comments on Go!. Rather it claims Boldly is a parody because it situated the ‘violent, sexual, sophisticated adult entertainment’ of Star Trek ‘in the context of [Dr. Seuss]’ to create a ‘funny’ book. We considered and rejected this very claim in an appeal involving another well-known book by Dr. Seuss—The Cat in the Hat (Cat).

For discussion of that prior Cat case, see Stephen Carlisle’s post, but this clarification by the court in ComicMix cannot be overstated:  copying existing works into novel contexts is not necessarily parody just because it is meant to be funny. And mashup, merely because it changes context, is not inherently parody. Moreover, when one is copying famous works, the user will more likely be seen as attempting to ride the coattails of the prior author’s notoriety, unless a clear element of commentary on the original work, like parody, is present in the new work. But citing the gold standard case on transformative use for the purpose parody, Campbell v. Acuff-Rose, the McKeown opinion reiterates, “Lacking ‘critical bearing on the substance or style of’ Go!, Boldly cannot be characterized as a parody.”

It is reasonable to assume that, if the court had found Boldly to be parodic, its third factor analysis would likely be more liberal regarding the amount of the original works used; but I would argue that the amount used is a fundamental reason why no parody can be said to exist in this particular case. After all, what was actually taken? Not ideas, which are not protectable, and certainly not Seuss’s meter or rhyming schemes, which are also not protectable. The primary expressions that were copied—and stylistically copied in minute detail—were a number of visual works belonging to DSE.

So, even if we were to strip away the verses, ignored intended literary expressions in either book, and exclude any knowledge of Star Trek, an ordinary observer, comparing ComicMix’s illustrations to Seuss’s originals, would not necessarily know that Image B is a parody of Image A.

To the contrary, the observer could very easily assume that Image B is a derivative work prepared by DSE because it painstakingly matches so many elements in Dr. Seuss’s original drawings. And according to the opinion, it was apparently ComicMix’s intention to prepare an unlicensed derivative work that they hoped DSE might acquire, hence at least one reason illustrator Ty Templeton spent so many hours copying Seuss’s drawings in such intricate detail.

Keeping our focus on the fact that what was copied was a collection of visual works, note this response from the opinion: “We also reject as ‘completely unconvincing’ ComicMix’s ‘post-hoc characterization of the work’ as criticizing the theme of banal narcissism in Go!.” It is not uncommon for defendants to concoct a “parody” narrative in response to an infringement claim, and/or to misconstrue, at the time of use, the meaning of “parody” as expression that intends to be funny through the language of a prior work (e.g. none of Randy Rainbow’s anti-Trump songs is a parody of the songs themselves*).

It is the work that has been copied that must be the target of the parody, or other commentary. So, how can a visual work that is meticulously faithful to the original hope to convey parody through the act of too much replication? Something about the subsequent work must cue the observer that a lampoon of the prior work is present. Otherwise, the new work will be considered a derivative work, which only the copyright owner has the right to prepare.

As an example, imagine a drawing of Cindy Lou Who that has borrowed just enough Seussian elements that we recognize her, but she is depicted sneering and giving the Grinch the finger in response to his bullshitting her about the Christmas tree. That image by itself would plausibly be a comment on the original work in the same spirit that “Pretty Woman” was held to parody “Oh, Pretty Woman.” And the parodist would not have to mimic Seuss in every scribble and hue to achieve this result.

The third factor asks whether “the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole” favors a finding of fair use. And a component of this analysis is whether the defendant used only as much of the original work as was necessary to achieve the desired result. In this case, because the desired result (an alleged parody) was held do disfavor fair use, then, logically, it should not matter very much whether ComicMix quantitatively copied one page of Go! or, as the opinion notes, 60% of the book along with “significant illustrations from Grinch and two stories in Sneeches.”

While that is a substantial quantitative taking, I would maintain that it was the qualitative copying whereby the defendant “replicated, as much and as closely as possible from Go!, the exact composition, the particular arrangements of visual components, and the swatches of well-known illustrations” that should have doomed ComicMix under the third factor test. Again, it is not necessary to mimic the originals so precisely in order to achieve the desired result of parody—if that purpose had been achieved in any sense.

Importantly, this opinion also reminds us that the third prong does not ask how much work was copied relative to the complete works produced by the original author. I’ve seen this one before, often in music infringements, where a defendant argues that he only copied a song or two owned by an artist with a large catalog. Here, the court rejected as a legal fallacy ComicMix’s argument that it only copied portions of five books out of the sixty produced by Dr. Seuss. Reiterating the law for users everywhere, the opinion responds that, “Under ComicMix’s theory, the more prolific the creator, the greater license a copyist would have to copy and imitate the original works. Nothing supports that argument.”

Potential Market Harm

The court’s discussion of the fourth factor also contains several important reiterations of fair use doctrine from which any creator can learn a great deal and reminds us that “potential” is the most important word in this part of the statute. This is because “potential” implies three underlying considerations:

1) what would be the effect of the specific use at issue on the market or value of the original work?

2) what would be the effect if the same kind of use were widespread among multiple parties?

3) although the copyright owner has not exploited the work in the manner at issue, does the new use constitute a derivative work, which the author is not obligated to produce or license?

In consideration of all the above, the court found that Boldly was not a fair use under factor four. As I have tried to emphasize, the amount of verbatim copying done by ComicMix produced an unlicensed derivative work, and the court noted that this placed Boldly in direct conflict with other derivatives of Go!, which DSE has licensed for the market. But perhaps the most important statement by the court regarding factor four is that it soundly rejected ComicMix’s assertion that the plaintiff bears the burden to prove potential market harm.

Not much about fair use doctrine lends itself to absolute statements, but the Supreme Court and our circuit have unequivocally placed the burden of proof on the proponent of the affirmative defense of fair use. ComicMix tries to plow new ground in contending that fair use is not an affirmative defense and that the burden shifts to Seuss to prove potential market harm.

Not only is that a judicial smackdown of a largely academic theory that fair use is a “right” rather than an affirmative defense, but the court further stings ComicMix’s erroneous citation of the very case that so many copyright skeptics consider a standard bearer of this invalid doctrine. The boondoggle litigation colloquially known as the “Dancing Baby” case, in which the EFF, on behalf of Stephanie Lenz, sued Universal Music Group for wrongful takedown of her YouTube video, is about as close as litigation has come to upending the affirmative defense principle of fair use. But here, the Ninth Circuit, which ruled in Lenz, states:

In an effort to distinguish controlling precedent, ComicMix argues that in Lenz v. Universal Music Corp., we deviated from our precedent construing fair use as an affirmative defense. This view misreads Lenz, which involved fair use in a different corner of copyright law, the safe harbor for Internet service providers under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA)….In no way did we deviate from our characterization of fair use as an affirmative defense under §107. To the contrary, in addition to clarifying that, unlike copyright misuse and laches, fair use is not an excuse to copyright infringement, we reiterated that ‘the burden of proving fair use is always on the putative infringer.’

Oh, The Places We Don’t Need to Go

As I say, I predict ComicMix will prove to be an important and instructive case going forward. It should not be misread as “the big guy defeating the little guy” because, in fact, if ComicMix’s legal arguments were supportable, such a ruling would make independent creators of fresh material more vulnerable to substantial takings by large entities. It also should not be understood as a referendum on mashups in general, as the court explicitly stated that mashups can be fair use, just not this one.

In the end, I personally have sympathy for the ComicMix guys, recognizing that they put a lot of work into a project based on some very dubious copyright theory. But especially because the trio of creators who decided create Boldly are all professionals with skills and talent, the underlying lesson remains that it is almost always better to invent than to copy—let alone to copy legendary works as extensively and precisely as was done in this case.

*I cite Randy Rainbow as an example typically misunderstood as parody, and make no comment on the legality of his videos re. copyright.

Intense Accusations in Schneider Class Action

When one files an allegation of fraud in court, one must present evidence. No, I am not referring to that freak show of litigations about the 2020 election that have been tossed out by over fifty federal courts, including the Supreme Court. I’m talking about YouTube. As discussed in this July post, composer Maria Schneider leads a class action lawsuit against YouTube, alleging that the platform knowingly facilitates copyright infringement of the musical works belonging to the putative class.

At the heart of the Schneider complaint is the fact that YouTube makes its copyright management system Content ID available only to institutional rightsholders with huge catalogs, while leaving independent copyright owners to fend for themselves—i.e. one DMCA notice at a time with no automated detection of infringing files. As noted in that earlier post, Schneider’s complaint presents several arguments whereby YouTube could be found to have voided its DMCA safe harbor, including allegations of “red flag” knowledge of infringement. This suit is also occurring at the same time that Congress has been reviewing the DMCA; and the chronic allegation that platforms like YouTube play fast-and-loose with the knowledge standard will very likely be addressed in any proposed legislative changes.

In September, YouTube filed a counterclaim seeking dismissal on the grounds that Schneider’s co-plaintiff Pirate Monitor LTD used anonymized agents to “fabricate infringement claims by having its own agents upload material from its copyrighted works to YouTube.” The platform alleges that Pirate Monitor engaged in this practice in order “to obtain access to [its] copyright management systems.” In addition to its allegation of fraud, YouTube avers that Pirate Monitor’s actions are an example that justifies its policy of limiting access to Content ID because, it states, some parties cannot be trusted with such tools.

That is one lulu of an accusation, to which Pirate Monitor responded in a brief filed in November that YouTube provides no evidence in its counterclaim of any relationship between the anonymized uploaders of the files in question and Pirate Monitor. The response argues that YouTube’s counterclaims “rest solely on conclusory allegations,” that its assertions of fraud do not meet the evidentiary standard under the rules of civil procedure, and that YouTube lacks the standing to request injunctive relief for the alleged harm caused by the alleged fraud. More broadly, the response accuses YouTube of trying to change the subject, “to spin this case away from being about YouTube’s facilitation and inducement of copyright infringement, and make it instead about who can and cannot be ‘trusted’ to use Content ID.”

I am not about to assert any comments of a factual nature without facts in hand. We’ll see what evidence is, or is not, presented. But I will reiterate that the soul of Maria Schneider’s complaint expresses precisely what hundreds, or thousands, of independent creators contend with on a piracy-rich landscape like YouTube. As noted in the first post, this suit reprises several matters of unfinished business left in limbo after Viacom and YouTube settled their copyright infringement suit in 2014.

At issue then, as it remains today, is evidence suggesting (or even proving) that YouTube’s operators have knowingly attracted and retained highly lucrative market-share by walking the razor’s edge of its responsibilities under the DMCA. In that spirit, YouTube’s preliminary statement in its counterclaim is a cue for a spit-take if nothing else. “Since its founding in 2005,” the brief begins, “YouTube has gone far above and beyond its legal obligations to assist copyright holders in protecting their rights.”

That self-congratulatory assertion hardly squares with the record. When Google acquired YouTube for $1.65 billion, the platform had achieved category-killer status based on a policy of copyright infringement. And although YouTube developed Content ID as a semi-compromise with the corporate rightsholders, it has done nothing for the countless small and independent creators whose works are used and monetized without permission. That story doesn’t even satisfy the industry’s bombast about supporting entrepreneurial creators, let alone anyone’s definition of “going above and beyond.”

The Ratajkowski Copyright Suit & Authorship in Photography

In my recent post about the McCloskey photograph, I said that courts tend to favor a photographer’s right to capture and distribute an image, even in situations involving fairly substantial privacy invasions in order to obtain photographs of limited news value. What I had in mind was the kind of paparazzi who aggressively pursue celebrities (especially women), and I was thinking specifically about a recent copyright dispute between model/actress Emily Ratajkowski and a photo taken by Robert O’Neil.

In a compelling article that Ratajkowski published in The Cut, she passionately advocates her right—and by extension anyone’s right—to maintain at least some control over her own likeness. She begins the piece by describing her feelings about the copyright lawsuit filed against her by O’Neil after she posted his photograph of her on Instagram without license. In the image, Ratajkowski is captured walking on the street. She holds a bouquet of flowers that completely obscures her face. Only her bare legs extending below the hemline of a light raincoat are visible as any part of her. Before reposting the photo to Instagram, she added text superimposed near the bottom of the frame that reads “mood forever.” She writes:

Since 2013, when I appeared in a viral music video, paparazzi have lurked outside my front door. I’ve become accustomed to large men appearing suddenly between cars or jumping out from behind corners, with glassy black holes where their faces should be. I posted the photograph of me using the bouquet as a shield on my Instagram because I liked what it said about my relationship with the paparazzi, and now I was being sued for it. I’ve become more familiar with seeing myself through the paparazzi’s lenses than I am with looking at myself in the mirror.

With regard to the behavioral aspects of these too-familiar stories, our sympathies naturally go to the celebrities who find themselves in Ratajkowski’s shoes. The experience of being stalked, having one’s privacy invaded, etc. by paparazzi are subjects of common law that deserve new consideration in a time when social platforms only increase the demand and the financial incentives for chronic surveillance of models and actresses in particular.

Ratajkowski’s broader message notwithstanding, her legal team’s response to O’Neil’s infringement claim is not well supported by either doctrine or case law. Her counsel alleges first, that the photograph lacks sufficient originality for copyright to attach; and second, that the model’s use was transformative and, therefore, a fair use as commentary. Yet, despite the inherent weakness of these two defenses, the language in the response on originality prompts a legal theory that her counsel does not appear to advance in this case:  the idea that Ratajkowski herself is at least a co-author of the photograph in question.

An Interesting Copyright Hypothesis

According to an article in The Fashion Law, Ratajkowski’s assertion of non-originality argues that “[O’Neil] did not have any say in how Ms. Ratajkowski was posed, did not create the background in which she was photographed, and did not control the light of the photograph. [He] did not select Ratajkowski’s “clothes, expression, pose, makeup, posture, position on the street, what she was holding, or who else was in the photo.”

To be clear, the image itself does not lack originality due to any of those factors. It is settled law that the “modicum of originality” standard protects a photographer who, in a split-second decision, captures an event that occurs in real life. Any Copyright Office examiner would (and presumably did) approve O’Neil’s photograph for registration without question. Nevertheless, Ratajkowski’s response is at least hypothetically intriguing for one reason:  that the most expressive element in the image is arguably the bouquet of flowers she holds in front of her face—a choice that was hers and not O’Neil’s.

It is a matter of doctrine that copyright protection requires human authorship. And authorship in photography, the first machine-made creative work, derives from two principles:  creative choices visible to the observer, as were dispositive in the seminal case Burrow-Giles Lithographic v. Sarony (1884); and the metaphysical notion of “personality of the artist,” articulated in another Supreme Court case called Bleistein v. Donaldson Lithographing Co. (1903).

The latter doctrine protects the photograph that results from an instantaneous decision to record elements that the photographer does not entirely control. The assumption that the “personality of the author” is present, even in a fraction of a second, is held to be sufficient grounds to meet the low threshold needed to find authorship in a photographic work. This principle supports the genres of street photography, photojournalism, nature and architectural photography, and the work of countless photographers whose images are considered both journalism and fine art.

Despite appearances to the contrary, this “personality of the author” principle is not to be confused with the erroneous belief that button-pushing alone is the act of photographic authorship, though the distinction being made is understandably so subtle as to appear almost moot. But with this in mind, imagine a scenario in which Emily Ratajkowski is aware that she is being photographed by a paparazzo, and so makes a creative decision to hold the bouquet of flowers in front of her face while conjuring a mental conception of the resulting image.

It is mental conception that copyright protects once it is fixed in a tangible medium. So, in this theoretical scenario, has Ratajkowski made a significant creative contribution that would give her a claim of co-authorship of the photograph? There is almost always collaboration between model and photographer; both are making choices, often in quick succession. But any question of joint authorship is usually nullified by contract. So, could Ratajkowski assert, in this instance, that she engaged in a creative collaboration with O’Neil that was both unwelcome and uncontracted—especially if her use of the bouquet as a prop could be considered a comment on the photograph itself?

This is a thought experiment. My aim is not to advocate Ratajkowski’s actual response to O’Neil’s suit, and certainly not to assert that the facts as I have just imagined them are present in her case. But in theory, it may not be necessary to disturb the case law in order to conceive of limited scenarios in which the subjects of photographs could make creative contributions sufficient to render the works jointly authored. Perhaps this is especially possible where the subject is a professional model and may be assumed to have an instinct (i.e. mental conception) for a pose or gesture that will produce an expression that becomes the “heart” of the work.

Ratajkowski’s article in The Cut asks a very human and very reasonable question:  why is her likeness not hers to control? And although copyright law is not the ideal framework for resolving that question, it is an association that reiterates Samuel Warren and Louis Brandeis’s 1890 law review paper that still informs our thinking on privacy rights. Not only did they look to copyright as a predicate for the idea that personal writings, words, deeds, etc. are a form of property deserving to be left alone, but they specifically cited the unwelcome photography of a stage actress as the kind of gossipy invasion that serves little social or cultural purpose. So, Emily Ratajkowski’s story is not a new one, though it seems to deserve some new thinking in the digital age.