12 Angry Men - the morality of justice

There's that Descartes quote, 'Cogito, ergo sum,' which is Latin for 'I think, therefore I am', that bothers me quite often. There's a nagging contradiction inherent in his logic that he must have realised but chosen to ignore, and I feel this is an opportune moment to discuss it. For 'cogito, ergo sum', suggests the mere act of being able to have a conscious thought implies existence. But I ask, what if it's the wrong thought?

What if, what it is that we know and accept to be true is devalued by a simple shift of paradigm, and the axioms upon which we construct our existence are but inadequate deliberations which stow away the truths about ourselves we can't yet face? Is the mere capability of having an idea, an opinion, or an individual thought more valuable than having the right idea, the empathetic opinion, the rational thought?

I fail to see Descartes' defense, not simply because he existed centuries before me, but because he hasn't seen 12 Angry Men, probably humanity's last great philosophical treatise on the nature and morality of justice. And though I may be exaggerating the literary merits of Sidney Lumet's classic 1957 movie, I contend that few films are as introspective or earnest in its deliberations, as what I believe to be the single greatest film of all time.

"Who here hasn't seen 12 Angry Men?"

I've realised that my incessant tirades on ideals, principles, and art have come to populate my opinions on most films that I discuss. It becomes difficult to dissociate those profound conceptualisations from whatever it is I watch. For that reason, these incoherent essays have become a reflection of my inner philosophies more than the technical merit of the artwork, which in all fairness I don't have the requisite skill to even discuss.

It is impossibly strenuous to avoid that path with 12 Angry Men, because it is what started me on it. However, the challenge which persists regardless is articulating the innumerable ways that even I can't fully comprehend after years of first watching it, through which this film changed my life. To evocate those fundamental tenets of human existence, human nature, and rationality that the film places in its thematic core, is beyond me, and yet here I am.

In the 96 minutes he has, Lumet presents the audience with only 12 characters deliberating the fate of another. A boy on trial, accused of murdering his father, and 12 jurors equipped with the responsibility of deciding whether or not he is guilty. And despite the brevity of its premise, it is incumbent upon the audience to realise the aggravating depth of the situation at hand, wherein a verdict of guilty ensures capital punishment.

Tiresome though it may be for a normal writer to engage the audience in a thriller with no action, Reginald Rose, author of the original teleplay and the screenwriter, does it with absolute ease. To adjudicate on the value of human life, seems an unassailable task. However, most of the jurors (and I argue, the audience), take no time in making it a binary choice between guilty or not guilty. And though for a second it appears that we will witness a unanimous guilty verdict and the story will finish before it begins, a lone, quiet juror voices his objection to his 11 peers, in the face of overwhelming ridicule, and so begins the film.

It's not easy to stand alone against the ridicule of others - Juror 9

What follows is one individual, standing alone in resilient doubt against prejudice and bias, armed only with the power of his thoughts and ideals, willing to question the foundations which everyone else around him is quick to assume true. This is not a trait common to our everyday existence, though fictional characters tend to have it in spades (for further reference, see Newton Kumar), and it is the undefinedness of this quality in these performances that I am enamoured by, that has prompted me to coin a new phrase to describe it, the burden of genius.

The brilliance in the direction of the story is not that Lumet suggests that this juror, played by Henry Fonda is absolutely correct, but simply that it is not necessary, that he is wrong. This begets the question of what justice really is: doing what might be right, or doing what isn't wrong? And thus, an ethical dilemma that begins with one person refusing to let a boy die without even deliberating upon it, transforms into one of the most intense and engaging narratives to ever be put on screen, with a plethora of incredible ensemble performances by actors you will have never seen or heard of anywhere else.

What's infinitely more significant is the development of each of the 12 characters to fulfilling, appreciable degrees. Each of the 12 jurors are uniquely disparate archetypes with their own motivations, experiences, and hamartias. Each juror plays a role in the progress of the story and each is just as recognisable and different from the last, though some arguably are less aspirational and likeable than the others. Although it behoves me to discuss each character with individual essays, that would be a bit much, even for me.

"Disrespect Gigi Hadid again, I dare you" - Me (probably)

A few technical aspects about the film make it so simplistic in its creation that seem almost contrary to the complexity of its thematic depth. The entirety of the film takes place in the same room, with the same 12 characters, populated only by the props and details present in the setting at that point in the story. As someone with a strong appreciation for minimalistic aesthetics and the economy of movement and dialogue, it's not difficult to see why this film is on the top of my all-time list.

Written and originally performed as a play, the dramatic theatre influences are far from nebulous, with stage directions and physical comedy and action contributing to most of the eye-catching moments of the film, and it remains my dream to adapt this play into a live performance. Though I would love to go into forensic detail about every frame, I will refrain from it to avoid spoiling the delicate journey this film takes the audience on. I will however mention the knife scene (familiar to anyone who has watched it), wherein the editing and shot angles contribute to one of the most climatic sequences I've had the fortune of witnessing, strangely quite early on in the film. If you do end up being motivated by this barely cohesive review to watch 12 Angry Men, keep an eye out for it.

As courtroom dramas go, here lies the progenitor of all its cliches. As a matter of fact, there remain so many things about the genius of this film from a filmmaking aspect that remain undiscussed, and an integral pat of its legacy. Whether it's A Few Good Men, or Primal Fear, its easy to see where the influences come from, and for good reason too. But what any other movie in the genre fails to achieve, is sheer intellectual repose. Harping back to my thesis about 12 Angry Men, its difficult to remove yourself from the narrative and not be affected by its 'burden of genius' outlook towards justice.

To misquote Descartes, you think, therefore you are, but it matters just as much what you think as it does that you do. Far too often we're unwilling to accept the likelihood, that we may just be wrong. If that voice asking you to reflect continues to echo out to no avail, then it isn't just you, but humanity that loses out.

Minimalism is a state of mind

Stop me if you've heard this one: a group of blind men wander off into the jungle and come upon a creature they had no knowledge of ever existing. Unsure of what to do at first, the men decide that they will each examine the creature together and state their conclusions at the end. So, the blind men each pick a different part of the creature, and start to prod and feel around, noting their observations and trying to decide what the creature is.

After a while, the blind men gather to discuss what the creature was. Some recollect a sharp and horned bone tusk, while others describing a long and open trunk; there are vivid descriptions of a rope-like tail, and few mention scratching a coarse and rough hide. Unable to decide which of the men are lying and which are telling the truth, distrust ensues. The blind men nearly come to blows, when suddenly a sighted man appears in the jungle and informs them that they were all correct: the creature was an elephant.