Explaining the difference between imagined law and real law is not a failure of the profession. It is part of the work, and often the most important part. It is also the part no one ever puts on screen, writes Tony Taouk.
Clients often arrive at a lawyer’s office with a fairly settled idea of how their matter will unfold. There will be a decisive moment, a dramatic turning point, and an outcome that feels just. Evidence will speak for itself. The truth will come out. The law will deliver closure.
In practice, the gap between expectation and reality is something I see almost daily. For many clients, their understanding of how the law works has been shaped less by personal experience and more by what they have absorbed from film and television.
American legal dramas in particular present law as theatre. A surprise document appears at the perfect moment. A witness breaks down under cross-examination. A single question changes everything. Matters are resolved cleanly and decisively within a compressed time frame. It makes for compelling storytelling, but it bears little resemblance to how legal systems actually operate.
Shows such as Better Call Saul reinforce the idea that ingenuity, moral brinkmanship, or a single tactical move can decisively reshape a case, even though real practice is far more constrained and incremental.
Exposure to United States legal proceedings highlights how American courtroom conventions and legal storytelling shape expectations that do not translate to Australian practice.
Those assumptions surface quickly once a real matter begins. Clients will sometimes reference shows like Suits when describing what they expect to happen in their own case. They ask why Australian lawyers say “I object” rather than the familiar “Objection”, or why lawyers do not deliver impassioned speeches or control the courtroom in the way they expect from American trials depicted in films such as A Few Good Men. Some are also surprised by the setting itself, having imagined a grand, wood-panelled courtroom, only to find a functional room with little more than a bench and an unremarkable bar table.
Others assume that a dramatic confession will bring an immediate end to a matter, without appreciating how such statements are assessed, challenged, and often contested. Familiar concepts such as “taking the Fifth”, often understood as part of a broader constitutional Bill of Rights, are assumed to apply in Australia, even though they do not operate in the same way, or at all. Police cautions are expected to mirror the theatrical recitation of rights so often depicted in American shows and movies, when in reality they are far more restrained and procedural.
Many also assume Australia has a constitutional Bill of Rights, because references to one are common in American courtroom dramas. These moments are not trivial. They reveal a deeper disconnect between how the law is imagined and how it actually functions.
In reality, legal systems are far less dramatic and far more procedural than people expect. Outcomes are shaped by timing, evidence, discretion, and risk assessment. Courts manage disputes rather than uncover truth in a narrative sense. Most matters resolve incrementally, through negotiation or procedural narrowing, without any defining moment at all. Even when a case proceeds to a hearing, the outcome can feel unsatisfying to a client who expected moral vindication rather than a technical determination.
For lawyers, this gap has practical consequences. Clients may assume their matter will move quickly, that a single exchange will be decisive, or that fairness alone will determine the result. When those assumptions are not met, frustration is often directed not at the system but at the lawyer.
Managing that disappointment becomes part of the work. Often, the most difficult conversations are not about what the law says but about why it cannot deliver the outcome the client imagined.
Expectation management is therefore not a soft skill or an optional extra. It is a professional obligation. Poorly managed expectations can increase costs, prolong disputes, and erode trust. Clear communication at the outset about what the law can and cannot deliver is often more important than technical brilliance later on.
These issues are not confined to litigation. They arise across property, commercial, and other areas of practice whenever clients expect certainty where the law offers only process. Over time, practitioners learn that much of legal work involves translation, explaining uncertainty, limitation, and risk in a way clients can accept. These are lessons most lawyers learn gradually in practice rather than at university.
Popular culture will continue to portray law as decisive, personal, and dramatic. That is unlikely to change. What can change is how lawyers respond to those expectations. Recognising the influence of these narratives and addressing them directly can improve client relationships and lead to better outcomes.
Explaining the difference between imagined law and real law is not a failure of the profession. It is part of the work, and often the most important part. It is also the part no one ever puts on screen.
Tony Taouk is the principal of Magna Carta Lawyers.
