This Old Hollywood Case Sheds Light on Kesha's Lawsuit Against Dr Luke

These were the circumstances surrounding actress Olivia de Havilland by the time she took her home studio, Warner Bros., to court in 1943. De Havilland was suing for release from her seven-year contract, a move that was unprecedented for the era. More than seventy years later, her historic case is echoed in the lawsuit brought by Kesha against Sony and Dr Luke, her former producer and alleged abuser.

De Havilland's public persona was that of a demure and beautiful ingenue. Often cast into roles where as the damsel-in-distress or love interest, she found herself churning out films. She flourished and languished simultaneously in these roles; her star power rose quickly but she was growing weary of being typecast. A fervent campaign led to a career-shifting role as Melanie Hamilton in 1939's Gone With The Wind.

After rightfully being nominated for an Oscar for the role, De Havilland felt creatively renewed and began to push for meatier roles. This active form of campaigning quickly became a nuisance for Warner Bros., who were eager to push De Havilland back into simpler, more secondary roles. The clash between starlet and studio resulted in a suspension period that would have serious repercussions.

Here's the tricky thing about studio suspensions: A studio could, at any time and for any reason, suspend a star's contract. This meant that the actor could not work in any capacity and received no compensation in the interim. If the studio thought an actor was a handful, too picky, too risky, too problematic (the list goes on), they would pinch those pennies by suspending the actor. Effectively, an actor was thrown into career limbo until they were 'ready' to reenter into the studio's benevolent graces.

De Havilland took Warner Bros. to court to break her contract; a desire for career expansion meant speaking up against a studio that had the final say in what was best for her. Whether she knew it at the time, De Havilland was actively destroying a negative industry standard. She won against Warner Bros. not only by sheer force of highlighting destructive business practices but with the vigorous support of her acting community. The result was the De Havilland Law, which prevents a court from enforcing a specific performance of an exclusive personal services contract past seven calendar years from the commencement of service. The case was a landmark in the movement away from a Hollywood studio's complete ownership of its stars.

While the two women come from different industries and decades, the parallels between Kesha and De Havilland's case are easy to see. Historically, the film and music industries have had a strong say on how they brand and control their female artists. A narrow, trope-driven public image is a key to big profits—think the electro-pop princess (Kesha) or the rom-com love interest (De Havilland). It's tough to break free, as these ingrained tropes simultaneously define and constrain the women assigned to them.

Both De Havilland and Kesha were severely inhibited by their respective industries: While De Havilland was strong-armed into Warner Bros.-approved roles, Kesha has brought forth allegations of physical, emotional and mental abuse at the hands of Dr. Luke. (In June 2015, she added Sony as a defendant in the case, arguing that the company should be held partly responsible for Dr Luke's alleged behavior.) In a statement, Dr. Luke's attorney Christine Lepera described Kesha's claims of abuse as "outright lies that have been advanced to extort a contract renegotiation and money."

De Havilland's own suspension was based in shutting her out until she took those preferred roles, which had sent her into creative and financial limbo; Kesha's own recently rejected injunction would have released her immediately from her contract with Kemosabe, Dr Luke's label under the Sony umbrella. While Sony and Kemosabe Records claim that Kesha can continue to work during this lawsuit without Dr Luke's involvement, Kesha's lawyer maintains this is an "illusory promise… she can record right now, but no one is going to hear it."

Furthermore, she would have to produce at least three more albums with Dr. Luke before release. For the court to "do the commercially reasonable thing" and honor Sony and Dr. Luke's position over Kesha's—despite the allegations being laid out against the latter—feels positively draconian when compared to the circumstances of De Havilland's lawsuit.

While the details of Kesha's case are distinctly more disturbing than De Havilland's, both cases highlight the potentially destructive relationship between major studios and their female stars. As with De Havilland's battle against Warner Bros. for release from a prohibitive contract, Kesha has similar potential to create a paradigm shift in the way women are treated in the music industry. The latter's case could permanently reverse the ingrained sexism of the music industry as well as the contractual obligations faced by female stars.

Kesha should not be martyred for a cause, nor should she be forced into exile for speaking up. Like De Havilland, she should be released from her contract and brought back into the fold on her own terms. Suffering for your art is one thing; to be completely silenced and expected to leave quietly is unacceptable.