Image by Okan Caliskan from Pixabay I vividly remember the first time I saw the 1957 legal drama 12 Angry Men. I was in college, and learned that I could rent movies on DVD from the campus library. So, having finished a paper due Monday early, I went to the library on Friday night and found this movie. I knew nothing except the premise which I learned from a parody episode of the movie on the show Family Guy. 😉
And ever since that first viewing, 12 Angry Men has left a significant impact on me. I find myself thinking about it every few months for a number of reasons. Needless to say, I am confident in saying that it’s not only my favorite courtroom drama but it’s also one of my top 100 films of all time. Why? I guess you’ll have to keep reading to find out… 😉 [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “12 Angry Men.” You have been warned.] The Good One of the first blogs I ever wrote highlighted the strengths of movies adapted from stage plays. Ironically, however, 12 Angry Men is not based on a play but a “teleplay” (a screenplay written for television) which aired on CBS on September 20, 1954. And yet the film adaptation of the teleplay largely plays to the strengths of a stage play (thanks to Lumet’s collaboration with cinematographer Boris Kaufman) by taking advantage of the inherently claustrophobic environment of the story. Specifically, the use of different lenses and positioning of the camera as the movie progresses allows the audience to visually perceive the increasingly tense and strained atmosphere of that juror’s room as we see the twelve men sweating profusely and becoming more and more anxious to come to a unanimous verdict so that they can leave and never have to see each other again. Thus, even though 12 Angry Men is not bringing a stage production to the big screen, it certainly feels like it is in the best possible ways. Speaking of the jurors, I think it would be incredibly easy for Lumet’s direction of the screenplay by Reginald Rose (the writer of the original teleplay) to allow most of the twelve jurors to blend together and fade into the background by not standing out from one another. Aside from Henry Fonda’s noble and heroic Juror #8, any one of the other eleven actors could have come across as set dressing or plot devices rather than distinguishable characters. But, much to my amazement upon first seeing 12 Angry Men, each of the jurors leave distinct imprints on the story and on each other. There are some key supporting characters that I’ll discuss in more detail later on, but you can watch the movie twelve times from any one of the individual gentlemen’s perspectives and see how they process the case under deliberation and evolve to their ultimate decision as a unique character arc. Considering the stars of this movie are twelve white men shot on black-and-white film with few distinguishing physical characteristics, I think it’s an impressive feat for the movie to still hold up today when it comes to the diverse personalities on display here. And this, of course, is in spite of an incredibly brief 96-minute runtime. Once again, such a brisk pace could have worked against Lumet and the actors. But it’s the opposite; the film’s brevity is refreshing but also never feels like it rushes the characters’ respective journeys. In fact, their arcs feel like they can breathe up against each other and, by the end, the audience can empathize with where each of them is at and why it took them the time that it did to ultimately acquit the defendant (John Savoca). The Great Aside from just the cinematography, 12 Angry Men makes excellent use of its environment in terms of where the characters are in relation to each other. This is, perhaps, an even more underappreciated aspect of how the “action” of the movie progresses than Lumet and Kaufman’s varying use of lenses from start to finish. Watching this movie is, in my humble opinion, such an excellent example of a film sucking the audience into its world and the events happening therein. Of course, the actors help with this but the way Lumet shoots such a small space and wholly relies on it to tell this story gives the viewer no choice but to place themselves into that situation and ask themselves: “What would I vote for?” “What would sway my decision?” For a film whose core themes are universal in nature and essential to contemplate for any well-minded citizen of the world, such a quality is indispensable in engaging your audience with the ideas on display through the use of space as well as the words and actions of the characters. Speaking of the characters, any one of the eleven supporting players could be the one that you connect with the most. For me, however, Jurors #3 and #9 are the ones I found the most compelling. Played by Lee J. Cobb and Joseph Sweeney, respectively, (the latter of whom is one of two actors from the original television production who reprised his role for the film) these two characters serve as thematic foils to each other. Whereas Sweeney’s character (whose name is revealed at the end to be McCurdle) is the first to agree with Fonda’s Juror #8 that the evidence against the defendant should be more thoroughly discussed, Cobb’s character ends up being the final holdout. It is these two jurors that, in more ways than one, establish the framework for the film’s exploration of justice. For it is McCurdle’s sympathies for Juror #8 and his willingness to stand alone in the hopes of discovering the truth about the defendant’s guilt or innocence that establishes the moral stakes of the rest of the movie. And the climactic catharsis of Cobb’s character’s outburst in the final moments where his prejudiced motivations are fully laid out as a reminder to the viewer that some elements of our criminal justice system will always be imperfect and slanted for or against the person in question. However, the important thing is not to let those imperfections win out over justice but root them out in the search for the truth. Simply put, without the endearing wisdom of Sweeney’s performance and the frustrating, one-sided anger of Cobb’s performance 12 Angry Men just doesn’t work as well as it does. The Groundbreaking Of course, one doesn’t watch 12 Angry Men and not come away admiring Henry Fonda’s electrifying performance as Juror #8 (whose real name is Davis). Without question, he is the star and for good reason. He’s the catalyst for the film’s plot (if you can all it that) by being the sole “not guilty” voter from the start in order to further question and interrogate the evidence (or lack thereof) against the defendant. I could certainly see someone watching this movie coming away with the impression that Fonda’s character is “too good,” as in unrealistically virtuous and mindful of the inherent prejudices of the criminal justice system. While I can see that perspective, I think it’s important to remember that Davis is less a character in his own right and more the moral conscience of all the other jurors (and, by extension, the audience themselves). For it is Davis’ upstanding idealism and powerful drive for the truth that inspires (either obviously or subtly) the eleven other jurors to self-reflect on their own prejudices at their own pace and, ultimately, side with his conclusion that there is simply not enough evidence against the defendant’s favor to convict him without “reasonable doubt.” Which gets to my favorite thing about 12 Angry Men. Beyond all of the great performances, writing, and direction, it is a movie that transcends its time and place (1950s America) by shining a spotlight on the extensive flaws of the criminal justice system due to its fallible, yet intrinsic, discriminatory lens against certain groups of people (brilliantly, the film is never upfront about the defendant’s race or ethnicity, although due to his impoverished background the viewer can interpret that the defendant is black or brown). This, of course, is another example of how the movie forces the audience to place themselves into the situation on display that I spoke of earlier. Not only the ideas themselves, but what the film has to say about these ideas makes it prescient of the times we have lived in ever since when it comes to the relationship between law enforcement, the courts, and the general public. Furthermore, its subtle commentary on racial bias in the criminal justice system preceded other landmark classics like The Defiant Ones and In the Heat of the Night (both starring Sidney Poitier) despite not featuring a single nonwhite character of any consequences. In my humble opinion, this shows that a movie can effectively explore universal ideas (i.e. justice, prejudice) through a specific historical context while leaving room for new filmmakers to add their two cents to such a discussion. Conclusion Needless to say, I love 12 Angry Men. Its acting, directing, cinematography, and themes all come together to form a truly classic piece of cinema that remains relevant sixty-five years after its initial release in theaters. And, of course, it has had an enduring legacy both in cinema history and on American culture in general (even going so far as to inspiring Supreme Court justice Sonia Sotomayor to pursue a law career). So, if you haven’t given it a chance yet, please do. I trust that you will not regret your hour-and-a-half spent watching this masterpiece. What are your thoughts on Sidney Lumet’s 12 Angry Men? What other courtroom dramas would you recommend? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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