In the Room

Rating: 10/10 (28 February 2003)

The story of this film is famous: one man tries to convert the 11 other jurors in a jury room. Superficially, that's all the film is. And it works magnificently on this level alone. But mixed in with that one notion (which is, I should say, remarkably carried out), we've got sprinklings of messages. What democracy really means, the notion of a fair and just trial, the stupidity of racism, etc.
At the opening of the film, we're inside the courtroom (everything but the opening and closing -- maybe 120 seconds in total -- takes place within the jury room and its adjacent bathroom) and the judge seems blasÃ© about the jury. "Just go in and do your thing...whatever." It's just another case with a fairly predictable outcome, he thinks (we assume). He reminds the jury that their conclusion must be unanimous and as they walk into the jury room, a few of them take a glance at the man on trial and the camera shows his face, looking at his only hope to save him from the chair (he's on trial for murder one).
As the jurors file into the jury room, over the credits, we see Juror #8 (Henry Fonda), who seems uninterested, looking out the window. The others are mostly talking about simply being in a jury room but Fonda is actually thinking about the case. He's slow to move, contemplative. Juror #7 (Jack Warden) is anxious to get out to his baseball game he's got tickets for.
There has been talk, like Roger Ebert's, of how the camera starts out at an elevation and slowly comes down by the end of the film. I didn't notice that, but I did notice just how creative the camera does move about in a very constricted space. I don't think it's ever in exactly the same place, at the same angle.
The first jury count, of course, has them at 11 to one, in favor of guilty. What makes this film great is that the lone man who says not guilty, Fonda, isn't sure the young man on trial is innocent -- he's just not sure he's guilty.
The straight racism of Juror #10 (Ed Begley) is obvious and the film deals with it. I don't know what the times were like in 1957, but I would have assumed that the order of the day may be to bring racial issues up but not deal with them directly. This film does and it comes out on the right side. The film isn't dated at all in its politics. If it were made today (I haven't seen the TV remake, although with a cast that has George C. Scott and Jack Lemmon, I'd like to), Juror #10 may be less obvious a racist, but this is a minor, if even, a complaint. There are still people like him, who'd believe that murder is inborn to specific ethnicities. What's sort of funny is that I couldn't tell what the man on trial was. Maybe Italian or Greek.
We get a good sense of each of the jurors, and indeed by the end we could probably list them off by their number (they never really say names, it's usually, "Hey, you there"). Part of this is due to that amazing camera. It really lets us know these people and it doesn't cut back to the "overview shot" or something so we can just get a good look at everyone together. When there is a wide shot that shows the entire room, some jurors are up walking, getting a drink, one may be in the bathroom. It's not a condescending camera that says, "Here's everyone. We'll give you some time to get all of them straight."
The entire film -- aside from those estimated 120 seconds -- is shot in real time, or as close to real time as you can come without making a film with one continuous, unbroken shot. Within the jury room there are no edits for time lapses, just for cutting to a different angle or juror.
The film acknowledges how evidence is all subjective ("There's a difference between a slap and a punch."). Each juror saw the same thing in the courtroom (we hear the evidence and the case only through the jurors recollections) but comes out with something different. That's part of what makes movies in themselves great: we all see the same movie and, when one is good, we all leave with something else, specific to us.
Fonda is the leader in the film, almost made into a holy figure. He's passive in the beginning and he's the one who presents the other jurors with his feelings as to why the young man may not be guilty. That's what Fonda does, brilliantly. He talks out his feelings. He's not in possession of some scientific fact that he plans on systematically informing the jury of, he just needs to take some time to sort out the facts, as he heard them, in his mind. Of course he's noticed things the others haven't and he's given the case more thought than maybe most would have. But it isn't a one-man mission. By being the one to stand up, he lets the others come out and say what they've seen. He gives them the chance to think and feel things over. While Fonda is obviously the protagonist, the film doesn't shy away from fairly showing other considered theories of those who are against him. At first Juror #3 (Lee J. Cobb) is the common sense antagonist, but later Juror #4 (E.G. Marshall) has intelligent deductions as to why Fonda is wrong.
All of the technicalities of the film are fine. The acting is first-rate -- I was especially interested in Juror #9 (Joseph Sweeney), who's made into an almost goofy old man with a strange way of showing his untold wisdom. And I now understand why Henry Fonda appealed to so many. Lee J. Cobb is terrific as the easily angered brute who isn't quite that simple. The picture on the DVD was incredibly crisp.
This is the type of movie they should show in American History classes. Hell, show it in any country (like mine, Canada) where democratic notions are held dear. In this room there is a microcosm of judicial, political, and human existence. A masterwork.
****