Pardon me, but don't you ever sweat?

Rating: Null/10 (14 February 2010)

"If you follow the crowd, you will likely get no further than the crowd. If you walk alone, you're likely to end up in places no one has ever been before. This is not without its difficulties, for peculiarity breeds contempt." – Oscar Wilde
Sidney Lumet's "12 Angry Men" opens with a teenage boy sitting before a judge. He's been accused of murdering his father. All evidence points to him having committed the crime and even the kid's lawyer believes him to be guilty. Enter the jury: 12 men tasked with settling upon a verdict. It seems certain that they will all find the kid accountable. After all, the facts prove that this kid killed his father. Don't they?
The jury seclude themselves in a tiny room and take votes. 11 men find the kid guilty. One doesn't. The majority look at the 12th with bemusement. He's Henry Fonda, a mild mannered architect with a temperament of quiet confidence. How dare this guy disagree with them? How dare he stand alone?
Tensions develop and the men begin to argue. Fonda plays it cool, stating that he doesn't necessarily believe the kid to be innocent, he simply wants to discuss the matter. After all, a kid's life is on the line. Why make hasty judgements? Why not talk things out, investigate the issue and dig a little deeper? Reluctantly, the others agree to talk. The kid's guilty, no doubt about it, so why not grant this wacky guy a couple hours of discussion? They're getting the day off work anyway. Humour the guy.
And of course as the 12 men investigate the case, they begin to grow doubtful. Previously agreed upon truth comes crumbling down, ambiguities arise, new facts come to light, testimonies are cast in a new shade and the motives of witnesses and jurors are shown to be skewed by personal vendettas and a range of social/racial/personal biases.
The film eventually ends with Henry Fonda, an iconic actor in one of his finest (if far too angelic) roles, having convinced the entire jury that the kid is innocent. With his quiet probing, his appeals to curiosity, truth and intellect over emotional hysteria, popular opinion and snap judgements, Fonda successfully opposes the other jurors. The film's message: question the majority, test the Gods with a hammer and be suspicious of commonly held truths. And most importantly, be tactful when contesting the majority, least they threaten you with a switchblade. But who cares? Normal is only a statistical distribution anyway.
Upon release, "Angry" was read as a cautionary tale about McCarthyism, then a hot topic. Later its message became more broad: about a callous society's indifference to the less fortunate and willingness to unjustly sustain false accusations. Today, the film's almost a parody of bleeding heart liberals, many siding with the film's courtroom conservatives as a result. "What is this?" actor Lee J Cobb fumes in the film, "Love Your Underprivileged Brother Week or something?" His stance is typical today. The notion that offenders are too heavily viewed as victims of oppression, deprivation, racism, mental disorder, systemic problems etc, and so deserving of support rather than punishment.
Aesthetically, "12 Angry Men" is remarkable; Lumet's camera work is superb and the film drips with both atmosphere and tension. The film also differs hugely from other legal dramas, taking place almost entirely within a jury's room and so sidestepping most of the the usual genre clichés (courtroom antics, last minute testimonials, witnesses, cathartic group-hugs etc).
"12 Angry Men" may also be the finest film shot around a table. Indeed, any director will tell you that filming large groups of people conversing over a table is one of the most taxing things to do. Keeping track of eye-lines, coverage, body positions, shooting each individual from multiple angles over and over again...it's a mighty chore just to get things down on the most basic level, let alone keep the thing feeling kinetic and fresh.
So what's remarkable about "12 Angry Men" is how much of a spatial movie it is. Director Sidney Lumet, who has a background in theatre (a very static medium, hence, perhaps, the initial appeal of such a claustrophobic script), charts his jury's room with a fluid camera. Watch how gorgeous his mise-en-scene is, how choreographed each character's body movements are, how Lumet's camera traces each character, assigning them spaces within the room. It's an incredibly organised little movie, Lumet dancing us deftly throughout this tiny arena, only to then spew his victors back out into the real world with a series of magnificently expansive shots.
Then there's the acting. Lumet has always been an actor's director, and here he populates his film with a wealth of wonderful character actors. But Fonda's the star of course. Dressed in an angelic white suit, he's exactly the kind of morally righteous everyman hero which made many of Jimmy Stewart's early roles so popular. With a mixture of "aww shucks", suave sexiness and quiet intelligence, Fonda's immediately endearing.
Unfortunately, the motivations of those who oppose Fonda are at times very heavy handed (everyone but Fonda is a raging buffoon, a sneaky attempt to elevate him), each one deliberately positioned to be shot down. End result: a heroic tale of progressive compassion defeating reactionary prejudice, in which the saintly conqueror of bigotry is himself bullying, has a firm agenda and is being buffeted by emotionalism.
10/10 – More great courtroom movies: "The Verdict", "Paths of Glory", "Compulsion", "Death on the Staircase", "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance", "Capturing The Friedmans", "The Paper Chase" and "Murder on a Sunday Morning". Lesser legal flicks: "Inherit the Wind", "JFK", "Adam's Rib", "Anatomy of A Murder", "The Caine Mutiny", "Witness for the Prosecution", "Miracle on 34th Street", "My Cousin Vinny", "Anatomy of a Murder". Worth multiple viewings.