Criterion Collection: 12 Angry Men [Blu-ray] | DVD Review

12 Angry Men, Sidney Lumet’s tension laced set piece from 1957, would be derided by talk radio as liberal claptrap if it were released today. The story of a lone juror (Henry Fonda) who seeks to impede a jury’s rush to judgment in a capital murder case, 12 Angry Men is a drama that grows organically from tiny seeds; seeds that 90 minutes later produce a harvest of shameful revelations. Through clever and telling details, Reginald Rose’s script strips away his characters’ thin veneer of civilization and exposes the racism and class warfare that lies beneath. With the fate of an accused murderer in the balance, each juror is forced to look into the dark mists of his own soul and ultimately issue a verdict; not just in this case but on the whole of humanity.

As a testament to the property’s enduring relevance, 12 Angry Men has been remade and rebooted several times over the years, both on film and on stage, including a padded, meandering Russian version in 2007, complete with a young Chechen defendant. The script originated as a teleplay in 1955, broadcast live as an installment of CBS’ Westinghouse Studio One, and has evolved into the status of a true classic. Now available in a handsome Criterion blu-ray, 12 Angry Men retains its riveting dramatic currents with new clarity and detail, and the film’s superb acting and flawless construction burst forth with unprecedented vividness.

The physicality of the production could not be simpler – twelve jurors sequestered at a conference table trying to reach a unanimous verdict – but that simplicity is deceptive. Through meticulous blocking and skillful performances, the scope of the story far exceeds its spatial confinements, and creates a dramatic web that encompasses universal humanity. Through an impeccable ensemble cast, Lumet and Rose explore the dynamics of the political spectrum: the entrenched dogma of the extreme contrasted with malleable souls who simply go along for the ride. The script inverts its own logic and sets forth a series of seemingly impossible hurdles, all of which are overcome by one man who refuses to submit to intellectual laziness. Lumet’s frames grow increasingly tighter, eventually isolating each juror as his preconceptions and prejudices are swept aside. Soon, all each man has left is his own self interested acceptance or denial; the intellectually honest concede their errors, while the ideologues battle on with bilious spite. But the tides of change are irresistible, and even the most deep-seated hatreds are powerless against them.

12 Angry Men is an actor’s picture in the truest sense, its unrelenting pressures dependent on timing and technique. Lumet’s brilliant cast, including a few holdovers from the original TV broadcast, features a squadron of familiar faces. Established stars like Henry Fonda and Ed Begley freely mingle with relative unknowns who would go on to long careers in television and film. Over the course of the film, each actor is given his moment to shine, and in vignettes great and small there are no awkward or fumbled moments. Fonda, as thoughtful, empathetic Juror 8, acts as the film’s navigational moral compass; his intellectual cool providing a counterpoint that both infuriates and impresses his fellow deliberants. His polar opposite, Lee J. Cobb, delivers a pitch dark rendering as an authority-worshiper who can’t wait to slip the noose on the young Hispanic defendant; his thirst for vengeance driven more by personal failures than any desire for justice. The great Jack Warden adds another winning performance to his portfolio of regular guy slobs while Robert Webber, as a slick adman, provides the film’s scant comic relief. In a superb sequence, E.G. Marshall’s self-righteously pragmatic stock broker has his Road to Damascus moment when he fails a memory test administered by Fonda, opening a floodgate of second guessing by his fellow jurors.

12 Angry Men arrives with an aspect of 1.66:1. Transferred from a 35mm master positive, the disc is sharp and detailed, but features a surprising amount of grain for a Criterion product. It’s puzzling and a bit distracting at first, but film’s hypnotic impetus soon takes command.

The simple audio track is in the original mono, and it’s crisp, clean and quiet in all the right places. While this may seem unremarkable, the 1955 kinescope that follows – complete with unrestored gurgles and grinds – will deepen one’s appreciation of the laborious audio cleanup undertaken by Criterion’s engineers.

Frank Schaffner’s 1955 teleplay of 12 Angry Men, from the series Studio One, featuring an introduction by Ron Simon, curator at the Paley Center for Media
Frank Schaffner’s live version of 12 Angry Men is presented via a kinescope, and it’s an equally engaging production chocked full of famous faces. Bob Cummings takes on the Fonda role, and does a surprisingly fine job. Former matinee idol Franchot Tone is equally up to task as sadistic Juror 3, giving the role an air of twisted elegance missing in Lee J. Cobb’s interpretation. For a three camera switch, the production values are astounding, with lots of moving cameras and precision blocking. The limitations of the format are evident as well, as the pivotal switchblade reveal is nearly blown by a late cut to Cummings. Still, the supplement is an impressive artifact from the early days of TV drama, and highly recommended viewing.

Production history of 12 Angry Men, from teleplay to big-screen classic
This 25 minute segment, moderated by Vance Kepley, tracks 12 Angry Men through its various incarnations, including William Friedkin’s 1997 version and 2007’s Russian produced 12. His analysis of Lumet’s technique reveals a number of subtle and intriguing aspects. Recommended.

Archival interviews with director Sidney Lumet
Assembled from a variety of interviews, this piece offers Lumet the chance to go in-depth on his background and career. He discusses his early days as a child actor in Yiddish theatre, and the profound effects of that experience on his directorial approach. Lumet originally intended to be an actor, and only got into directing because his acting classes were somewhat disorganized. Lumet began his career as an AD to Yul Bremmer, and began taking assignments when Brenner’s burgeoning acting career left him little time for directing. Lumet fans will enjoy the piece’s informative nuggets, but at 23 minutes it drags on a little too long for causal viewers.

New interview with screenwriter Walter Bernstein about Lumet
Bernstein offers some excellent insights on Lumet’s methods of combining melodrama with character, and how his close associations with actors influenced his filmmaking. The McCarthy trials are discussed and the opportunities live TV gave writers and directors to deal with controversial topics, away from the prying eyes of Washington DC. In all, an engaging and interesting 9 minute interview.

New interview with Simon about writer Reginald Rose
Ron Simon, curator at the Paley Center for Media, discusses the influence of Rose’s work, and places him squarely beside legends Paddy Chayefsky and Rod Serling in the pantheon of television scribes. Simon uncovers a number of Rose’s recurring themes, including the dangers of mob mentality and a constant questioning of what it means to be American. The piece offers a well deserved analysis of this underrated pioneer of television drama and is highly recommended.

Tragedy in a Temporary Town (1956), a teleplay directed by Lumet and written by Rose
This 55 minute program from The Alcoa Hour deals with similar themes found in 12 Angry Men, but without that production’s tight narrative focus and compelling momentum. The story deals with racial prejudice within a construction crew, and features several future stars in their salad days, including Lloyd Bridges, Jack Warden and Ed Binns. While initially interesting as an antique, the drama ultimately succumbs to a glaring lack of subtlety and some embarrassing scenery chewing by Bridges. For TV history buffs only.

New interview with cinematographer John Bailey about director of photography Boris Kaufman
Bailey largely avoids technical analysis in favor of biographical data on Kaufman. We learn a great deal about Kaufman’s early work in Poland, Russia and France and his collaborative relationship with his brother, Dziga Vertov. Bailey examines scenes from On the Waterfront, 12 Angry Men and The Fugitive Kind to show Kaufman’s progression as a painter with light. The bulk of Bailey’s commentary specific to 12 Angry Men is alluded to in other supplements, but his thoughts are well organized and presented, if a bit long winded at 40 minutes.

Original theatrical trailer
Hard hitting and over-the-top, this teaser captures little of 12 Angry Men’s truly special and memorable flavors.

A booklet featuring an essay by writer and law professor Thane Rosenbaum
This 18 page booklet is illustrated with impressionistic renderings of the jurors and includes production credits and notes on the transfer. Rosenbaum’s essay runs a bit dry and academic, but he makes a few good points about the story’s unique depiction of the legal system.

The secret of Sidney Lumet’s directorial style – and his extraordinarily successful 60 year career – starts with great respect for actors, as evidenced by the whole-cloth fashioning of 12 Angry Men’s nameless characters. Some dominate while others recede into the background, yet it’s clear each actor is working from a tightly defined backstory. Their biographies rarely come into play during the narrative, but each man’s history and place in the world form vital building blocks to character. Yet, Rose and Lumet largely avoid stereotypes, and their jurors emerge as fully human and fully believable; each man a product of unseen experiences held deep in the soul. These hidden layers give 12 Angry Men its pervasive sense of simmering contempt and suppressed violence, and elevate the film into an American classic. It’s a bare knuckle fight to the finish, with the sharp daggers of intellect as the weapon of choice.

Reviewed by David Anderson

Movie rating – 5

Disc Rating – 3.5