12 Angry Men
Sidney Lumet really understood the drama of the courtroom and the law, didn’t he? Between his feature debut and 1982’s “The Verdict,” Lumet shows a fascination with how men come to the decisions they do in and out of a courtroom when it comes to life and death, how to help a human and whether or not to condemn one. What’s striking about “12 Angry Men” is how, little by little, we see personal morality and conflicted choices come out in ways that feel familiar given everything we’ve seen after, but also feel believable. As Henry Fonda’s Juror 8 presents his case for acquittal, gradually we see the rest of his colleagues start to have questions themselves. But Fonda persists, not because he himself is certain, but because uncertainty is important when someone’s life hangs in the balance.
We only see the defendant once in “12 Angry Men” at the beginning, as the judge in the case has told the jury their duty, but it’s an important image. Lumet’s economy of image as a director is vital to this film’s success- he doesn’t go out of his way to show us things we don’t need to see. All that matters are the moments of deliberation, when one man is making his voice heard, and how others are listening to him, or talking over him. This is a “closed room” drama of the highest order.
At the heart of Reginald Rose’s screenplay is the importance of communication, and of keeping an open mind. Early on, Fonda says he could be swayed into agreeing with the other 11 men to vote guilty, and the defendant would die, but it’s not as clear-cut as that. Gradually, he continues to bring further evidence that makes the case against the defendant feel less certain, and when the choice is letting someone go free, or watching them die, doubt should never exist. The defendant, in this case, is a boy who allegedly killed his father. The two had a contentious relationship, and the father was abusive, so it’s natural to think that the boy did it, right? The old man who lives down the stairs says he heard everything, and saw him running down the stairs, but how could he hear over the passing elevated train, or see if it took him longer than the timeline suggests to get to the door if he has a bum leg? A woman across the way claims she saw the murder at the time the train was moving by, but that would imply she was sleeping with her glasses on. Anyone who’s worn glasses know how unlikely that is.
The criminal justice system isn’t so much the main part of this film, but the way personal biases and personal inconveniences play into our choices. Yes, cases are made for whether the court-appointed attorney put as much time into the case as they could have, but for one juror (played by Jack Warden), that’s not as important as getting to the ballgame that night. Over their deliberation, as the numbers begin to shift, the idea of a hung jury is brought forth, but nobody really thinks that’s a good idea, since it’s a strong bet that, like 11 of them thought at the start, a guilty verdict would be a slam dunk. It has to be these 12 men, at this moment, deciding the fate of this boy. We eventually arrive at the complete opposite place that we started; it’s interesting to see the contrast of tone between how Juror 8 made his case for doubt, and Juror 3 (Lee J. Cobb) makes his case for his certainty. The doubt feels more confidently laid out than the certainty is.
None of these men having names until they discharge their duty is fitting, but all of them are individuals. Throughout the 96 minutes of “12 Angry Men,” we understand their motivations and thinking crystal clear, and see how personal biases can cloud that thinking. When the final shoe drops, it’s an act of personal anger that results in the eventual decision being made. Lumet makes it feel like a catharsis for both character and audience, as all the evidence of where these men stand is laid out in front of us. The courage of their convictions, in the end, is inspiring, and as honest a representation of how deliberative debate is the cornerstone of a healthy democracy, and needed before rash decisions are made when we’re asked to consider one’s life over our own.
