12 Angry Men (1957)

1957

Directed by: Sidney Lumet

Starring: Henry Fonda, Lee J. Cobb, EG Marshall, Martin Balsam,

Jack Warden, Jack Klugman, Edward Binns, Joseph Sweeney

Ed Begley, George Voskovec, Robert Webber

Watching Anatomy of a Murder brought to mind another film, an earlier one that was also considered a courtroom drama. It is one that I had seen a couple of times before. It was about yet another murder trial, yet another trial by jury, another film that was based almost wholly in a courtroom. 

Where this film differs from the afore-mentioned one however, is that the trial is over when the movie begins. The focus is not on the accused, or the lawyers, either for the prosecution or the defence, or the Judge. It is on the jurors, the 12 people who are chosen to make a decision on whether the accused is guilty or innocent. They hold the power of life. Or death.

A young Spanish-American teenager is arraigned for the murder of his step-father. To most spectators, it seems like an open-and-shut case. The boy had the motive, the opportunity and the weapon. His alibi doesn't hold up, and besides, there were two witnesses, one of them an eye-witness to the murder. Evidence has been presented, the lawyers had examined and cross-examined their witnesses, they had made their closing arguments to the jury. All that remains is the verdict. 

And so the judge briefs the twelve men on the jury - they have followed the trial closely; they have seen all the evidence, and heard the testimony of the witnesses; they have listened carefully to the closing arguments of the counsel. Now, it is their duty to separate the facts from the fantasy. Upon their deliberation will rest the verdict - guilty or not guilty. If they are certain, beyond reasonable doubt, that the evidence was proof of guilt, they are to return a verdict of 'Guilty'. The penalty that follows such a verdict is death. There will be no further appeal.

And so the jury retire to a 16'-by-24' room to deliberate. They make quick acquaintance of each other. Then, in a hurry to finish an unpleasant chore and go back to the often vexing details of their own life, they call for a preliminary vote. Everyone knows it's an open-and-shut case. Unfortunately for them, one of them has a conscience. Beyond reasonable doubt. That is the phrase that hammers in his brain. So as they tally the votes, the count is 11:1. 

Eleven men in that room think he is guilty. Juror No.8 (Henry Fonda) is not up to sentencing a young man to death without even deliberating on the merits of the case. He is not convinced that the evidence against the boy is watertight. The others are frustrated. Especially Juror No.7 (Jack Warden) who is more interested in the ball game that he has tickets to; how does it matter if he takes five minutes or one hour to decide that the boy is guilty? He is sure the boy killed his father. 

No. 8 is not convinced. The boy has had a miserable eighteen years; born and brought up in a slum, kicked around by life and circumstances, pushed into an orphanage when his father was incarcerated for forgery - he's a wild, angry kid and deserves at least a few words before they send him to his death. No.10 (Ed Begley) vehemently denies that they owe him anything more than a fair trial. He's lived among people like them his whole life; 'You can't believe a word they say, they are born liars', he claims. 

Juror No.9 (Joseph Sweeney) is appalled at that statement. Only an ignorant man could believe something like that. No one is born with a monopoly on the truth, he says. 

As Juror No.1 (Martin Balsam), the foreman, takes charge, No.12 (Robert Webber) has a suggestion; perhaps they could take turns to convince No.8 why they think the boy is guilty. So they take turns. Juror No.1, a rather meek man (John Fielder), doesn't know why he thinks the boy is guilty, but he thinks it is obvious. No one proved otherwise, he says. No.8 interrupts. No one has to prove otherwise. The burden of proof is on the prosecution.

Juror No.3 (Lee J. Cobb) relies on the facts of the case, including the eyewitness account. No.4 (EG Marshall) points out the inconsistencies in the boy's defence. No. 10 butts in - the woman across the tracks saw the kid do it. How much more proof do you need? But she is also 'one of them', says No.8. How come No.10 is so willing to believe her story yet disbelieve the kid? 

The moment of tension is relieved by the foreman, who soon calls upon Juror No.5 (Jack Klugman) to state why he thinks the kid is guilty. No.5 declines to answer and the question is passed on. No.6 (Edward Binns) is convinced because he thinks he's spotted a motive - the kid and his father had been at odds before. There had been eyewitnesses to a fight earlier the evening of the murder. No.8 doesn't think that provides a strong enough motive - the kid's been hit many times before. Violence is a part of his life. He cannot see two more slaps provoking him into committing murder.

No.7 is of the same frame of mind as he was before. No amount of talking is going to make him believe the kid is innocent. After all, the kid's record showed his propensity for violence. No.3 shows them the picture of his son. A boy he had turned into a man, a son he had not seen for two years. He doesn't think much of kids. No.4 butts in - it is not important what the kid's background is; the fact is that he murdered his father. Slums breed crime. 

No. 10 agrees. Kids from the slums are trash. No.5, who had remained silent, cannot bear it any more - he is from the slums. And so on and on it goes, each man's conviction about the defendant's guilt hammering yet another nail into his coffin. 

And now, it is Juror No.8's turn. Will he be able to make his fellow jurors at least listen to his arguments? After all, some of them are already at odds with each other. No.8 feels unsure about the case because the Prosecution was so positive. Their whole case was pegged around two witnesses, and a whole lot of circumstantial evidence. But those witnesses are only people. Could they be wrong? 

No.8 disproves one bit of evidence, much to the consternation of the rest. 

 

But they are not disposed to believe the defendant is innocent. After all, there was an eyewitness to the murder. No.8 is beaten, yet game. He offers a deal. Take another vote. By secret ballot this time. He will abstain. If all eleven of them still vote 'Guilty' he will not stand against them. But if there is even one vote of 'Not guilty' then they will stay back to discuss the case further.

So the men cast their vote.  

When the foreman tallies it at the end, it stands 10-1. One man at least, has been convinced that the case is not as open and shut as the prosecution claimed. And he has changed his vote because he has seen No.8 stand alone against every one. It is not easy to stand up to the ridicule of others, and he, No.9 is willing to offer him some support. 

The vote now stands 10-2 in favour of guilty. Then, as No.8 pegs away slowly at the 'evidence', it is 9-3, then 8-4, then 6-6. And it around this time that No.11 (George Voskovec) finally comes into his own. He is an immigrant, a naturalised American. He cannot believe that a man would vote 'Guilty' or 'Not guilty' just to suit his own ends. The question is where do they all go from here? They need a unanimous verdict if it is not to be a hung jury. Are the jurors any more open to hearing something other than their preconceived notions? Will they even listen? Is Juror No.8 playing the Devil's advocate? Or does he believe the accused is innocent?

12 men. 12 ordinary men. And as the film progresses, some angry men. Men who, are forced by circumstances to confront their own inner prejudices, their own demons. Men who, quick to pronounce judgement on another man, are now forced to judge themselves.

While 12 Angry Men is referred to as a courtroom drama, one of the finest of its genre, all the 'action' takes place after the trial itself is over. Now, the jurors have to retreat to ponder over the arguments that have been put forth and within the claustrophobic confines of the juror's room, arrive at a verdict. Under the American justice system, all verdict by jury in a criminal trial must be unanimous. It is therefore incumbent upon these twelve men to come to a consensus.

Very little - perhaps a couple of minutes or so - of the movie's running time is spent in the courtroom or outside. The rest of the 'action' takes place in a closed room, and as the day wears on, one hot summer's day, one can actually feel the walls closing in, and the heat rising. It affects the jurors, many of whom hoped to be out soon. And when a sudden summer shower cools the temperature outside, the tension inside the room cools as well, and we, as well as they, heave a (short-lived) sigh of relief. Even the fan finally begins to work.

I must confess that my first introduction to this movie was through its Hindi remake (Ek Ruka Hua Faisla) with KK Raina as Juror No.8. One of the best remakes that I have seen (director: Basu Chatterjee), it whetted my opinion for its source material. That, despite having watched the movie once and knowing how it ends, I was still drawn into the tension, says much for director Sidney Lumet's vision.

Based on a teleplay of the same name by Reginald Rose, 12 Angry Men forces us to think - we, like the jury, are privy to the evidence, which is overwhelmingly against the defendant. When Juror No.8 raises his doubts, we too are caught by what we feel we know and what may be an alternate truth. As No.8 picks each of the 'facts' apart, showing how there could  be another reason to view that evidence, all our confidence in our ability to 'know truth' begins to dissipate. We are as much objective viewer as we are subjective voyeurs to the intense debates, arguments, even fights that take place in that room as the jurors come to terms with prejudices, biases and even personal trauma that they were not aware existed, nor would have admitted to in public.

It also raises some disturbing questions. While beyond reasonable doubt is incorporated into law so the innocent is not sentenced on circumstantial evidence alone, what happens if the defendant is really guilty? As one of the jurors tells No.8 when the latter asks him to suppose himself in the defendant's place: "Suppose you talk us all out of this, and the kid really did knife his father?" Even in the film, no one is saying the boy is innocent of murder. What their verdict finally boils down to is that they are not sure the boy is guilty; there just isn't enough evidence to convict him. 

The movie is not accurate in detailing - I do not know for instance, how they manage to get a similar knife into the room. Perhaps that is because I'm viewing it through the today's lens where I'm checked and scanned and X-rayed before I enter the court house. However, this movie serves as a very close look into how constitutional law works in this country, and provides a meticulous description of a juror's duty. Here, in the US, it is part of a citizen's civic responsibilities, and one that you cannot refuse. It shows you how responsible a position it is, and how, with great power comes great responsibility. You cannot let an innocent man be sentenced, but can you let a guilty man walk free? How do you know who is what?

Shot on a tight budget and in 21 days, the film, produced by Henry Fonda, who also stars as the juror with a conscience, 12 Angry Men  was a box-office disaster when it opened. Yet, for all that, it had some fine performances: Fonda himself, Lee J. Cobb as the antagonistic juror, Joseph Sweeney and Ed Begley stand out.

Director Sidney Lumet, who was director of photography, used photographic techniques like shortening the depth of field in order to create that palpable sense of claustrophobia. He deliberately sets the pace, increasing the tension until you can cut it with a knife. The characterisations are spot on as well, 12 ordinary men from different strata of society and different educational backgrounds (in order: an assistant football coach, a quiet bank clerk, a businessman, a stockbroker, a man from the slums, a house painter, a salesman, an architect, an elderly man, a garage owner, a watchmaker, and an advertising executive) who may or may not have known or liked each other in real life. They are not black and white, these people, and they are forced to confront the idea that the accused may also not be as black as the prosecution painted him to be. Or at least, there is reasonable doubt to suspect that he may not be so.