For decades now, films about 'social issues' have been problematic; making conscientious viewers believe they've thought deeply about a noble cause, and getting them to applaud themselves for embracing some progressive value that they probably already support*. This movie, in considering the responsibility of jury duty, neglects a finer point (& a larger idea) which remains undramatised; the process of American justice is not designed to declare people innocent... it only concludes whether the prosecution succeeded or failed at proving a person guilty; this is reflected by the very specific terms, Guilty and Not Guilty. A suspect is freed when the prosecution hasn't made its case, not when the suspect is proved innocent. No one is ever declared "innocent." The difference is important (occasionally Not Guilty and Innocent are equivalent, but innocence is generally a higher standard). The jurors of '12 Angry Men' are confused about many things, but none moreso than this. The movie never clarifies this point. It would help these gentlemen immensely.
At both ends of the spectrum - lynch mob to gee-whiz pushovers - the jury here utilizes thought-processes which are toxic to justice. The jerks are too interested in hanging. The 'bleeding hearts' - in the films parlance - are way too engaged in actively dismissing the whole case, not in merely detecting reasonable doubt. At one point Fonda has been able to discredit evidence (which is OK - a discovery supports this) and use a dicey method to disregard so much witness testimony (which is frankly, bizarre) that he might just as well start denying there was a victim, or that a crime occurred at all. "What if the victim isn't dead?" and "What if there was no body?" are only slightly more unreasonable than a few of his crazy, trial-negating suppositions.
It remains a good idea for a movie. There are strong points (a moment when E.G. Marshall, as the reasonable opposition, quietly concedes is particularly powerful), and it's directed and shot well, but the script is so off-course that by the time the film ends most viewers will feel content that an innocent life has been saved, a moral determination not supported by the film, which is neutral concerning culpability. Worse, the offscreen case rings dramatically hollow when reassembled from the details we do get; it suggests some kind of flimsy, polemical courtroom, 'What on earth did these lawyers debate, if it wasn't the crime details? Was this a 4-minute trial?' I'm sure this movie had an impact on viewers likely to be called to jury duty, who WOULD prefer to wind things up so they could get to a ball game, but it does end up affirming that 12 people off the street are usually ignorant, and without some enlightened golden-boy on your jury (and a dramatic structure to reign them in) will hang your sorry ass.
In a shocking example of tunnel-vision, the movie neglects to note that this nifty trick of persuasion might also be deployed by the morally un-righteous. To wit, couldn't just as interesting a scenario be imagined in which a juror whose motives are secretly nefarious, and who is intentionally trying to undermine the process, achieve the same reversal and get someone executed? Could one clever sociopath with a quick mind get a jury to reverse its verdict? That's a creepy, equally promising possibility which viewers aren't supposed to consider, but which is inherent in the premise, and which should have troubled a McCarthy-era audience. I think I'd actually like this movie if Fonda's moral value was left intentionally vague in the end, but it isn't. His righteousness is endorsed by heraldic music on the soundtrack and just so there's no mistaking his virtue, he walks away in a glowing white suit.
This is only a good argument, not a good film. If you're the kind of viewer who prefers that there's no work to do to find a films meaning or your own nobility (Do you like To Kill a Mockingbird?), this is for you. There's no meaning to find, because none of it is hidden. It's all important on the surface. There isn't movie I love that's this overt with its meaning. 12 Angry Men is a nobility machine. Viewers are fed through it, and come out the other end righteous.
(* Grapes of Wrath, Ox-Bow Incident, To Kill a Mockingbird, Call Northside 777, all of Jodie Fosters issue films, all of Kevin Costners issue films, etc.)
At both ends of the spectrum - lynch mob to gee-whiz pushovers - the jury here utilizes thought-processes which are toxic to justice. The jerks are too interested in hanging. The 'bleeding hearts' - in the films parlance - are way too engaged in actively dismissing the whole case, not in merely detecting reasonable doubt. At one point Fonda has been able to discredit evidence (which is OK - a discovery supports this) and use a dicey method to disregard so much witness testimony (which is frankly, bizarre) that he might just as well start denying there was a victim, or that a crime occurred at all. "What if the victim isn't dead?" and "What if there was no body?" are only slightly more unreasonable than a few of his crazy, trial-negating suppositions.
It remains a good idea for a movie. There are strong points (a moment when E.G. Marshall, as the reasonable opposition, quietly concedes is particularly powerful), and it's directed and shot well, but the script is so off-course that by the time the film ends most viewers will feel content that an innocent life has been saved, a moral determination not supported by the film, which is neutral concerning culpability. Worse, the offscreen case rings dramatically hollow when reassembled from the details we do get; it suggests some kind of flimsy, polemical courtroom, 'What on earth did these lawyers debate, if it wasn't the crime details? Was this a 4-minute trial?' I'm sure this movie had an impact on viewers likely to be called to jury duty, who WOULD prefer to wind things up so they could get to a ball game, but it does end up affirming that 12 people off the street are usually ignorant, and without some enlightened golden-boy on your jury (and a dramatic structure to reign them in) will hang your sorry ass.
In a shocking example of tunnel-vision, the movie neglects to note that this nifty trick of persuasion might also be deployed by the morally un-righteous. To wit, couldn't just as interesting a scenario be imagined in which a juror whose motives are secretly nefarious, and who is intentionally trying to undermine the process, achieve the same reversal and get someone executed? Could one clever sociopath with a quick mind get a jury to reverse its verdict? That's a creepy, equally promising possibility which viewers aren't supposed to consider, but which is inherent in the premise, and which should have troubled a McCarthy-era audience. I think I'd actually like this movie if Fonda's moral value was left intentionally vague in the end, but it isn't. His righteousness is endorsed by heraldic music on the soundtrack and just so there's no mistaking his virtue, he walks away in a glowing white suit.
This is only a good argument, not a good film. If you're the kind of viewer who prefers that there's no work to do to find a films meaning or your own nobility (Do you like To Kill a Mockingbird?), this is for you. There's no meaning to find, because none of it is hidden. It's all important on the surface. There isn't movie I love that's this overt with its meaning. 12 Angry Men is a nobility machine. Viewers are fed through it, and come out the other end righteous.
(* Grapes of Wrath, Ox-Bow Incident, To Kill a Mockingbird, Call Northside 777, all of Jodie Fosters issue films, all of Kevin Costners issue films, etc.)