You are the thirteenth jury member. Like it or not, you have been given a grave responsibility, and you better make sure that you play your part carefully. A man’s life hangs in the balance, and a wrong decision can land him in the electric chair, or let a guilty man walk the streets. Choose carefully: if you get it wrong it will haunt you forever.
Such is the intensity of 12 Angry Men that you can’t help but feel like you’re a part of their deliberations. As the jury members tread the boards in front of you – a cross section of 1950s New York white males – presenting cogent arguments for both guilt or innocence, each audience member is swayed one way or the other. The well meaning but useless request to put prejudices aside before walking into the room is especially tough given the heat and passion of the arguments. What starts off as a black and white case (literally) soon develops a rainbow of grey hues as the certainty of truth and facts dissolves into a murky collection of presumptions and conjecture.
CONTINUES IN COMMENTS