[The following review contains SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]
There’s a recurring image in Juror #2 that is as impactful as it is unapologetically unsubtle. In front of the courthouse wherein much of the plot unfolds stands the familiar statue of Lady Justice, her iconography instantly recognizable—blind, impartial, passing judgment with unwavering objectivity. The scales that she holds, however, are conspicuously unbalanced, swaying erratically in the relentless wind. The metaphor is blunt, but undeniably effective, efficiently conveying the film’s central thesis—that these symbols are inherently illusory, and the legal system that they represent is fundamentally flawed.
The premise is a delightfully novel variation on the 12 Angry Men formula. What if, the story asks, Henry Fonda’s character had been motivated by a guilty conscience rather than pure altruism? Suppose that, during the course of the trial, he suddenly realized that he was directly responsible for the alleged “murder” (in actuality a tragic accident) in question; would he be able to convince his fellow jurors to acquit the defendant without simultaneously incriminating himself? Would this otherwise decent man even deserve to escape the consequences of his actions? Why, after all, should he remain free while an innocent person languishes in a prison cell in his stead?
Can remorse alone absolve someone of their sins?
Clint Eastwood wisely adopts an unobtrusive visual style, allowing the deliciously complex conflict to speak for itself. He favors tight closeups, emphasizing the magnificently nuanced performances. Nicholas Hoult is particularly impressive in the title role; his expressive eyes clearly convey the tortured protagonist’s shame, anguish, and sheer desperation. Toni Collette likewise excels as the ruthlessly ambitious prosecutor, who becomes increasingly haunted by (reasonable) doubt as the deliberation process drags on—forcing her to reexamine her preconceptions and decide what she really values: the truth… or her own political aspirations.
Ultimately, Juror #2 is an old school morality play of the highest caliber—lean, economical, and (an unevenly paced first act notwithstanding) thoroughly engrossing. The greatest crime is that the movie received such a pitifully minuscule theatrical release; a drama this mature, thematically rich, and exquisitely crafted demands to be a major cinematic event.
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