Paul Schrader faces lawsuit over sexual harassment allegations and settlement breach; attorney deems it ‘frivolous.’
Paul Schrader, the maverick screenwriter who gave us the brooding existential fury of Taxi Driver and the raw pugilistic poetry of Raging Bull, has always thrived on the edge of darkness. His films don’t just depict society’s underbelly—they claw at it, exposing the grime and the grace in equal measure.
But now, at 78, Schrader finds himself starring in a narrative he didn’t write, one that could cast a shadow over his legacy as indelible as any of his celluloid provocations. In a lawsuit filed this week, his former assistant, identified only as Jane Doe, accuses the director of sexual harassment and assault, alleging he backed out of a settlement agreement designed to keep her claims hushed.
The details, as laid out in the legal filing reported by Variety, are grimly specific. Jane Doe, who worked for Schrader over several years, alleges he created a “sexually hostile, intimidating, and humiliating environment.”
The complaint paints a picture of a man whose alleged behavior veered far from the tortured artistry of his screenplays: unwanted sexual advances, instances of Schrader reportedly exposing himself, and repeated declarations of love that crossed every professional boundary. These are, of course, accusations—not yet proven in court—but they carry the weight of specificity that demands attention.
Schrader’s attorney, Philip Kessler, isn’t buying it. In a rebuttal that’s as blunt as a Scorsese tracking shot, he’s called the lawsuit “desperate, frivolous, and opportunistic,” implying that Jane Doe is less a victim than a gold-digger cashing in on a cultural moment.
It’s a familiar playbook in these cases—deflect, discredit, deny—and one that’s been trotted out by plenty of powerful men caught in the #MeToo crosshairs. Whether it holds water here remains to be seen, but Kessler’s words are a calculated jab at the plaintiff’s credibility.
And then there’s the settlement twist, the kind of plot pivot Schrader himself might’ve scripted. According to the lawsuit, the two parties hammered out a confidential agreement in February to put the matter to rest. But Schrader, for reasons still shrouded in mystery, allegedly pulled the plug, refusing to honor the terms.
It’s a head-scratcher: Why agree to settle if you’re innocent, only to back out and invite a public brawl? Did he balk at the cost, reconsider the optics, or simply decide to roll the dice on his reputation? The move suggests either a miscalculation or a defiance that’s pure Schrader—uncompromising, even when it’s unwise.
This isn’t just a legal skirmish; it’s a chapter in Hollywood’s ongoing reckoning with itself. In the post-Weinstein era, allegations like these have become a volatile fault line. They’ve given voice to the silenced, toppling titans and rewriting power dynamics. Yet they’ve also sparked a counter-narrative—one Kessler’s clearly leaning on—that paints accusers as profiteers exploiting a movement for personal gain. The truth, as always, lies in the messy middle, and it’s up to the courts to sift through it.
Schrader’s current chapter adds another layer of pathos. His latest film, Oh, Canada, premiered at Cannes last year—a meditation on mortality inspired, he’s said, by his own bout with long COVID. In interviews, he’s mused about facing the end, his voice tinged with the kind of fatalism that’s fueled his best work. Now, that introspection takes on a bleaker hue. Here’s a man who’s spent decades wrestling with human frailty onscreen, only to confront it in a way that’s far less poetic—and far more perilous.
What happens next? The legal machinery will grind on, with Schrader and Jane Doe each getting their say before a judge. The film world, meanwhile, will watch with a mix of curiosity and unease, wondering if one of its most iconoclastic voices will emerge unscathed or diminished.
Beyond the courtroom, though, this case is a reminder that the industry’s soul-searching isn’t done. Whether Schrader’s guilty or not, the fact that these stories keep surfacing—year after year, name after name—tells us the problem isn’t just individual bad apples. It’s the orchard.
For now, the spotlight’s on Paul Schrader, a filmmaker who’s never flinched from controversy but may have met his match in this real-world script. The ending’s unwritten, but one thing’s clear: It won’t be tidy, and it won’t be quiet.
