Twelve Angry Men Raven Theatre
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In 2007 the Brit weekly magazine The Spectator published a blistering attack on Twelve Angry Men, Reginald Rose’s venerated drama in which a lone dissenter gradually persuades his fellow jurors that personal and social prejudices have influenced their perception that the “slum kid” defendant in a murder trial is guilty. Leo McKinstry argued that Rose’s chestnut was “liberal twaddle,” typifying “the triumph of bleeding hearts throughout the institutions that should be protecting our society.” Although McKinstry’s tortured logic and willful ignorance were laughable (should conservatives oppose trial by jury?), the essay ignited a firestorm in the blogosphere. Legal types leaped to Rose’s defense, chronicling real-world experiences ad nauseum to prove his accuracy.
Within the first 15 minutes it’s obvious—thanks to the heroic clear thinking of impartial, unbiased Juror Eight—that there’s reason to doubt the defendant’s guilt and that most of those who insist otherwise are just grinding personal axes. One juror believes “those people” are natural criminals. Another has a “lousy son” of whom the defendant reminds him. A third wants to get to a baseball game on time. The rest are singularly dense until Juror Eight enlightens them. The ensuing 90 minutes drive home points already made, as Rose takes every opportunity to instruct and edify rather than dramatize.
