Sidney Lumet’s staggering courtroom drama 12 Angry Men mostly takes place in the cramped jury room where a dozen “men with ties” decide the fate of Puerto Rican teenager accused of murdering his abusive father. The prologue to their civic imprisonment sets the stage for the filmmakers’ overarching concerns about the contradictions of the democratic process. After a few short establishing shots where men, women, and children traverse the plaza steps and interior hallways of the court building, the camera focuses on a particular door, where one of many cases currently in motion is just about to reach critical mass. The legal arguments have subsided, leaving the courtroom mostly silent and the fate of the accused in the hands of the titular men. Before their dismissal, the judge looks down at the group and bequeaths them to “separate the fact from the fancy.” Despite his harsh tone, we quickly realize only one of them takes this statement seriously.
That man is Juror 8 (Henry Fonda), the lone dissenting voice during the jury’s disturbingly jovial initial vote to convict the boy of first-degree murder, which would send him to the electric chair. Juror 8 has questions, a lot of them that he wants to discuss further, much to the chagrin of his fellow jurors. “There’s always one,” yells sarcastic Juror 10 (Ed Begley), who, like many of his fellow deliberators, desires a quick conviction so that he can get back to his regular routine.
In the minds of the other 11 men, the evidence is overwhelming in favor of the prosecution, so why even bother with debate? But Juror 8’s resistance to such mob mentality and manipulation helps erode the devastating moral righteousness of men like Juror 3 (Lee J. Cobb), whose certainty about the boy’s guilt is just one of the many red flags to surface during the proceedings. Slowly but surely, Juror 8 forces each man to look beyond their own prejudices—to question the evidence at hand and to become active participants in the judicial process.
What’s most interesting about the intense deliberations that ensue, specifically when a piece of seemingly indisputable evidence is brought back into question, is how a fresh angle and perspective, usually born from Juror 8’s critical thinking, alters the tone of the discussion. In the process, each character begins to show their true colors in relation to the case. Whether it’s a bit of blatant racism from Juror 10, extreme hatred from Juror 3, or a sobering plea of humanity from Juror 8, Lumet shoots the most important lines of dialogue in close-up, lingering on the characters’ faces for extended moments, establishing the importance of proximity and duration when it comes to dramatic shifts in the story. It’s almost as if Fonda’s character, and Lumet for that matter, believes that these men are smart enough to make the correct decision if given the context and time to carefully consider the ramifications of their actions. Despite some crippling character flaws, laziness and apathy are the only real villains in 12 Angry Men.
The film takes a confined and banal real-world location and makes it completely dynamic, using incredibly nimble camera movements to establish character motivation and theme. Director of photography Boris Kaufman’s fluid long takes track each character as they leave the table in anger or frustration, sometimes both, before returning to the heated discussion after, say, a moment of personal reflection. Seemingly simple conversations lead to damning assumptions about ideology and purpose, and each man brings their own set of moral baggage to the table.
As the characters become more fully developed before our eyes, it’s as if the location grows in depth as well. At times, even the film’s visuals seem to exert a strange effect on the narrative. As questions of cause and effect cast shadows over each man, rousing their unease, the film increasingly builds toward a release that comes to feel as volatile as the shifts in weather (from sweltering heat to torrential downpour) beyond the jury room’s windows.
Boasting as much compulsive energy as your average modern Hollywood action film, Lumet’s feature directorial debut makes every shot and line of dialogue count. This is a film that’s obsessed with the nature of perspective, how it’s formed as well as performed, as well as how each character tries to hide their weaknesses by lashing out at others. “Prejudice always obscures the truth,” one juror says at the end of 12 Angry Men. And as the men walk down the courthouse steps, it’s finally clear that some of them understand how that particularly true statement relates to their own conflicted, ambiguous, and flawed life experience.
Image/Sound
12 Angry Men is a veritable cornucopia of overheated, middle-aged faces and Kino’s 4K transfer ensures that every pore of skin and bead of sweat is presented in pristine 3840×2160 resolution. While it’s not exactly a monumental improvement over Criterion’s excellent 2011 Blu-ray, black levels are discernibly better and the additional shades of gray now present, thanks to a boosted contrast ratio, add a richer texture to the jury room. The stereo audio is crisp, featuring clean dialogue and Kenyon Hopkins’s score is quite resonant the few times it pops up during the film.
Extras
In his newly recorded audio commentary, film historian and screenwriter Gary Gerani provides a sprightly and informative analysis of the film, delving into the various differences between the original hour-long televised play, Sydney Lumet’s film, and William Friedkin’s 1997 version. He also offers meticulous analysis of each of the 12 juror characters and touches on some of Lumet’s more subtle stylistic choices. In a second commentary, film historian Drew Casper focuses much more on the film’s aesthetics, particularly the camerawork and use of sound, music, costumes, and set design. It’s a more scripted than conversational track, but it goes so in-depth into often overlooked elements of the film that it’s still a must-listen for Lumet fans.
The remaining extras are all housed on the accompanying Blu-ray disc, including the 23-minute “Beyond a Reasonable Doubt: The Making of 12 Angry Men,” which also delves into the motivations of each of the 12 jurors, as well as touches on some interesting pre-production facts, from Henry Fonda putting up his own money to get the film made to Lumet and screenwriter Reginald Rose’s experiences in TV prior to this film. Inside the Jury Room includes interviews with a number of lawyers, including Robert Shapiro, who discuss the importance of jury selection and deliberation and the accuracy of the film in its representation of these. The disc also comes with Friedkin’s TV version in its entirety and a theatrical trailer of Lumet’s.
Overall
Featuring two solid commentary tracks and William Friedkin’s 1997 version, Kino’s stacked 4K edition of Sidney Lumet’s debut requires no deliberation before adding it to your shopping cart.
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