Unintended subtext is always fascinating in a progressive film, though, and what Cohen and West don’t notice is that Ginsburg’s life is an ongoing rebuke to the style of today’s Left. She was never in anybody’s face, never angry. She didn’t waste her time on demonstrations and marches. She was more interested in poring over legal briefs at 3 a.m. In arguing before the Supreme Court, where she won five of six cases she litigated, her strategy was to smile deferentially, as she did when William Rehnquist joked that having Susan B. Anthony on the dollar should be enough to placate those who decried sex discrimination. She once compared her role to that of a kindergarten teacher, and after she blasted Donald Trump by name in 2016, she meekly apologized and noted, correctly, that it was not her place to call out political figures.

What’s more, she happily played traditionally feminine roles early in life. She met her great love, Marty, at Cornell, married him, bore their first child, followed him to Harvard Law School, then followed him again, transferring to Columbia Law School because he’d taken a job in New York City. From 4 p.m. on, she looked after their little daughter Janey, hitting the books at night. Marty later repaid her handsomely: She estimates she was “22nd or 23rd” on Bill Clinton’s list for the Supreme Court in 1993 after his preferred choice, Mario Cuomo, demurred. Marty, a major New York City tax lawyer, started calling everyone he knew to lobby for his wife, and Marty knew a lot of people.