Requisite Brilliant Simplicity
Well over a month ago, my wife recorded the classic 1957 film “12 Angry Men” on TCM. I have seen it countless times, but when I did my usual nightly ritual of clearing space on the DVR, I never could bring myself to delete it. Since it’s one of the finest films I have ever seen, it just didn’t seem right, and darned if I didn’t watch it again last night.
Anyone who has any interest in the history of cinema should see it, and if you have, this review really isn’t for you. It is designed to inspire others to spend 95 minutes on one of the greatest simple and straightforward movie experiences you could ever hope to have.
It is a courtroom drama that spends just two minutes in court, a murder mystery where the murder isn’t seen, and the alleged murderer is on-screen for about thirty seconds. It almost entirely takes place on one set, the jury room where the dozen male jurors will decide the fate of an 18-year-old from the slums charged with the murder of his father, in a case that carries the death penalty. In our brief glimpse of the defendant, he is “ethnic”, but we can’t really tell what nationality that might be, only that his minority status is clearly a factor for a few members of the jury.
The film stars Henry Fonda as “Juror No. 8” (we only know the characters by those designations). The other eleven jurors are played by actors familiar to anyone who watched television, or went to the movies, in the fifties through the eighties. Some were just getting started like Jack Klugman, some were pretty established stars like Lee J. Cobb and Ed Begley. Despite the relative brevity of the film and the large group of jurors the magnificent script allow us to get to know the men’s personalities quite well.
Cobb (Juror No. 3) was always brilliant at playing dislikable characters, and his disdain for the defendant, whom he is certain is guilty, is palpable, borne out of a strained relationship with his own son. Actually, everyone but No. 8 is pretty certain he is guilty, and even Fonda doesn’t state that he feels the young man is innocent, only that he feels there is reasonable doubt, and that the gravity of the potential verdict at least demands discussion. Despite having seen virtually none of the trial, or the lawyers closing statements, were learn through every exchange, many heated, every last detail.
This was the first film for one of the great directors of all time, Sidney Lumet, who came from television like the man who wrote the script Reginald Rose. This was originally a teleplay. Lumet would relentlessly continue to seek out important issues in his more than fifty films, such as “The Pawnbroker”, “Dog Day Afternoon”, “Serpico”, and “Network”. He was nominated four times for Best Director, and 14 of his films were nominated for Oscars.
He was ably supported by his cinematographer Boris Kaufman, whose esteemed resume includes “On the Waterfront”. They create a claustrophobia in the jury room with a unique approach. The pair use longer focal length lenses as the film moved on, making the background appear to be closing in, and shot the first third of the film from above eye level, the second third at eye level, and the final third below eye level. The latter allowed the ceiling to be seen, making it seem as if not only the walls, but the ceiling were closing in.
But this is truly a dialogue and acting piece. Fonda was born to play parts like this, a reasonable, intelligent, and earnest man who is serious about a very serious matter. He wants to make sure the others are as invested as he. Begley (Juror No. 10) is a cranky old bigot who is certain of what “those people” are capable of. He stalks around wiping himself off with a handkerchief on “the hottest day of the year” in New York City.
A couple of the jurors are not taking the matter seriously at all. Juror No. 7 (Jack Warden) has tickets to the Yankees game, and that, and making jokes, are his focus. No. 12 (Robert Webber) is a “Mad Men” style ad exec, tossing about lame pitchman ideas, and generally taking things lightly. The other jurors, while initially pretty resolute in opinions of guilt, are at least engaged and genuinely thoughtful.
After the initial vote is “spoiled” only by number eight, to general chagrin, Fonda spends a bit of time expressing the reason for his doubts, but after not making much headway proposes another vote, with the understanding that if all the other jurors vote guilty, he will make it unanimous.
But No. 9 (Joseph Sweeney), an elderly and thoughtful man, changes his vote, if only to create further discussion. While no one is thrilled, Begley, Cobb, and Warden are especially annoyed. The always reliable E.G. Marshall (No. 4) is certain of guilt, but his opinion is at least built on logic.
Fonda has his opening, and he dives into the evidence and testimony with the iconic actor’s patented yearning for justice, and sensitivity to the downtrodden. There are electric moments of revelation, but they are in keeping with the film’s tone of simplicity, and the story’s captivating ability to inform us. The heat in the jury room is only slightly lessened by a cooling thunderstorm, but only in temperature, not in tension. There aren’t many light moments, but just enough to bring an occasional grin or chuckle.
One by one the dominoes start falling, with firecracker moments of conflict based on each man’s assessment of the others motives. All of the members of the acting company get to shine, and to contribute to the narrative. Martin Balsam (No. 1 and the jury foreman), John Fiedler (No. 2), Edward Binns (No. 6), and George Voscovek (No. 11) are the ones I haven’t named yet, but the quality of their work stands up to all the others.
Each character is unique, and brings a different back story and attitude to the process, and different reasons for their change in attitude. Cobb is the last holdout, and his final descent into resignation that his reasoning doesn’t have much to do with the facts, is devastatingly compelling.
Nobody has any certainty that the defendant is innocent, but they come to embrace the standard of “reasonable doubt”. Of course, you know all along this will be the denouement, but how we get there is one of the great journeys in American cinema.
There is nothing more that I can say about this standard of greatness, except that I just watched the movie last night, and I would have no trouble watching it again tomorrow. The feeling you have as Fonda’s No. 8 and Sweeney’s No. 9 walk out of the courthouse after the storm has broken and they learn each other’s names for the first time is truly uplifting as the film concludes.
“12 Angry Men'“ was widely acclaimed, but was not a box office success when it came out. It was a time when the new wide screen and color technology was captivating the movie public, and its serious subject matter, and being filmed (brilliantly) in black and white, perhaps played a role. So did United Artists decision to ignore producer Fonda (his only time in that role), who wanted a slow build based on the great reviews. Instead, thrilled with the quality of the work, they went for a grand opening at a large theater. When a smallish crowd came out, they panicked and dialed down promotion
Ironically, the film adapted from a teleplay really found its first major audience when it was shown on television, and it has gone on to make countless Top 100 lists, including its ranking on one of them as the number two courtroom drama in cinema history.
Lumet went on to make a bushel of fantastic films, but he sure as hell set the bar high with his very first. Compelling, fascinating, technically superb, and a veritable acting class, it is absolute must-see viewing for everyone.
