12 Angry Men (1957) **1/2

In director Sidney Lumet’s first feature film, 12 Angry Men (1957), one juror asks another, “What kind of man are you? Who tells you that you have the right like this to play with a man's life?” The duty of a juror is to judge the evidence presented without prejudice or sympathy and render a verdict. The problem is every person who sits in a jury box has their own personal views regarding race, class, and gender, as well as their own personal problems. Reginald Rose’s Oscar-nominated screenplay (adapted from his stage play) does an excellent job of showcasing these very issues in this taut, dramatic film.  Aided by brilliant cinematography, outstanding editing, and stellar acting, 12 Angry Men is an inspiring look at one of the most disliked and avoided duties of American citizenship. 

Our jury is deliberating a first-degree murder charge involving an 18-year-old minority boy from the slums who is accused of stabbing his father to death.  If convicted, the mandatory sentence is the death penalty.  On the surface, it appears to be an open and shut case of guilt, but one juror, played by Henry Fonda, has doubts.  As the lone holdout, he takes it upon himself to make the other eleven jurors (all men, hence the title) reluctantly (and in some cases belligerently) reexamine the evidence.  Along the way we learn there are other contributing reasons for why they think the boy is guilty: racial and class prejudice, familial issues, and indifference.  It is a searing analysis of what actually influences jurors to make the judgments that they do. 

While I have a particular issue with the fact that all of the jurors are men (women could vote and thus serve on juries in 1957!), that does not damper my appreciation for how Lumet and cinematographer Boris Kaufman shot the film.  I’m not sure whether they chose to use black and white film to accentuate the viewpoints of the jurors (everything is seen as either black or white) or because it was cheaper, but it works. The beginning of the film is shot with wide-angle lenses and at an above eye-level perspective. This cleverly depicts how distant the jurors are from one another on many levels.  It also provides the viewer with the ability to observe the idiosyncrasies of each juror.  As the story progresses and becomes heated as jurors start changing their verdicts, the film is shot from much lower angles and closer shots.  These techniques heighten the drama and create an almost claustrophobic atmosphere.

With over 365 camera sets-ups and multiple angle shots, it is obvious that cinematography played a vital role in the overall production, but without clear, decisive editing it would have been useless. Having worked for several years on dramatic productions for television, Lumet knew the value of editing, and he and Carl Lerner expertly and concisely cut 12 Angry Men to create a smooth, cohesive feel.  While there are a lot of panning shots, the film is appropriately cut at crucial moments.

All twelve actors give fine performances, but three stand out to me. Fonda is obviously the star, and he plays his calm, rational Juror No. 8 well, but he serves more as a moral compass than anything else.  I’ve seen him play this part before in The Ox-Bow Incident (1943) and Young Mr. Lincoln (1939), so while he’s good here it’s not what I consider one of his standout performances.  No, when I think of the jurors I remember Ed Begley (Juror No. 10), Lee J. Cobb (Juror No. 3), and George Voskovec (Juror No. 11).  Begley plays his rude, bigoted part with just the right amount of anger and callowness.  By the end of the film, when almost every man turns their back on his poisonous prejudice, he does an excellent job of conveying his character’s resigned realization that no one respects him or his views.  Cobb’s Juror No. 3 is violently vitriolic and difficult to forget. His vehement agitation serves as the actual pulse of the movie.  And, finally, I think Voskovec’s turn as a naturalized citizen with an appreciation for the American justice system deserves to be recognized.  His dealings with both Cobb and Begley are memorable, but it is his confrontation with Jack Warden’s Juror No. 7 that hammers home the importance of the jury system. 

Overall, 12 Angry Men is an intelligent look at an important element of the American justice system.  It benefits from creative cinematography and editing, and has an outstanding cast.  It is a tad overdramatic at times, but that does not lessen its overall effect.

Network (1976 ) ****

When Paddy Chayefsky wrote his Oscar-winning screenplay for Network (1976) it was supposed to be satirical. Lensed through the 1976 eye I’m sure audiences found an opinion-spouting news anchor and a network devoted to developing reality-based programming as absurd. To the first-time 2012 viewer it just seems par for the course.  Obviously, news anchor Howard Beale (Oscar-winner Peter Finch) was not the only prophet working on Network.

One of the promotional posters for Network warned: “Prepare yourself for a perfectly outrageous motion picture”. This behind the scenes look at a struggling TV network (UBS) and the people who shape its message is wickedly funny.  When ratings decline the network decides to fire long-time news anchor Beale and hire an outrageous ratings-whore programming director, Diana Christensen (Oscar-winner Faye Dunaway).  After Beale loses it on the air and encourages his audience to shout out their windows: "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore” Christensen’s brain almost explodes when it calculates the possible ratings points that The Howard Beale Show, starring the mad prophet of the airways himself, could garner.  Not everyone thinks this is a good idea, namely news division director Max Schumacher (Oscar-nominated William Holden).  Of course, he has his own problems, as the network’s hatchet man, Frank Hackett (Robert Duvall), wants Schumacher out, too.  Soon, Schumacher finds himself forced into retirement and engaged in a May-December affair with Christensen, a woman he both loves and views as “television incarnate: indifferent to suffering; insensitive to joy”.  Christensen will do anything for a 50 share: create a show called The Mao-Tse Tung Hour, featuring a radical group of terrorists called the Ecumenical Liberation Army; push a lover out of his job if he doesn’t agree to work with her on her programming ideas; and, plan the assassination of Beale when his ratings drop—thus, insuring even higher ratings for the second season of The Mao-Tse Tung Hour.  It sounded and played as outrageous in 1976, today it doesn’t seem too far-fetched when you think of certain “news” personalities or the over-saturation of reality-based series we find across the airwaves on a daily basis.  Hell, we’ve even had a live execution on TV—Diana would be so very proud with how far programming has come in the last 30+ years. 

No script is ever strong enough to stand on its own, not even one as good as Network’s, so it helped that five great actors played significant roles in the film.  Legendary Hollywood star William Holden was the perfect choice for the jaded, world-weary Max Schumacher, because by 1976 that was exactly what he was.  He’d played jaded characters in the 1950s and 1960s, but by the 1970s he knew the perils of the entertainment industry on both one’s health and psyche and he perfectly showcased it in his performance. 

For Peter Finch, Howard Beale was the role of a lifetime—literally, as he died of a massive heart attack while promoting it.  He would be the first of two people to win a posthumous Academy Award for his unflinching portrayal of the unhinged news anchor.  As long as people watch films he will be remembered for delivering one of the most iconic lines in cinematic history: "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore”. Finch played angry men well, never too over-the-top with just enough angst that you felt compelled to watch their meltdowns.  What makes his performance even more stunning is that he mostly plays off himself—90% of his scenes are comprised of him speaking to his audience—there is no give and take between actors, just a lot of giving on Finch’s part.  It must have been a viscerally exciting part to play.

Supporting players, Robert Duvall and Ned Beatty, added their own unique brands to the film. Duvall played his cut-throat vice-president of programming and all around-axe man with just the right amount of menace and coolness.  His character is reprehensible and you know it.  Beatty, who plays Arthur Jensen (and was nominated for an Academy Award), the chairman of the conglomerate that owns UBS, is in just a handful of scenes but they are some of the best in the entire movie.  When his Jensen explains to Beale why everything is connected (the corporate/international cosmology speech) you don’t know just what to believe. Is he telling Beale these insane things to placate his star’s delusions or deep-down is what he is saying really true, but just with a little crazy dust sprinkled on for Beale?  And, really, when you think about it, isn’t Jensen just a bit right when he says (paraphrased for brevity's sake):

“There are no nations. There are no peoples… There is only one holistic system of systems, one vast and immane, interwoven, interacting, multivariate, multinational dominion of dollars. Petro-dollars, electro-dollars, multi-dollars, reichmarks, rins, rubles, pounds, and shekels. It is the international system of currency which determines the totality of life on this planet. That is the natural order of things today. That is the atomic and subatomic and galactic structure of things today! There is no America. There is no democracy. There is only IBM, and ITT, and AT&T, and DuPont, Dow, Union Carbide, and Exxon. Those are the nations of the world today. We no longer live in a world of nations and ideologies, Mr. Beale. The world is a college of corporations, inexorably determined by the immutable bylaws of business. The world is a business, Mr. Beale…One vast and ecumenical holding company, for whom all men will work to serve a common profit, in which all men will hold a share of stock. All necessities provided, all anxieties tranquilized, all boredom amused.”

But what makes this film so unforgettable is Faye Dunaway’s flawless performance as Diana. Director Sidney Lumet was worried about working with Dunaway, as she had (has) a reputation as being difficult, so he met with her before filming began. Even before she could say a word to him he said to her, “I know the first thing you’re going to ask me: Where’s her vulnerability? Don’t ask it. She has none. If you try to sneak it in, I’ll get rid of it in the cutting room, so it’ll be wasted effort.” And, there is no vulnerability—Diana is self-preservation personified.  This woman lives for television and ratings.  Everything, and I mean everything, revolves around TV. If you are discussing market shares and demographics during sex you know things have gone too far for you. When opening the discussion about a pending affair with: “here we are: Middle-aged man reaffirming his middle-aged manhood, and a terrified young woman with a father complex. What sort of script do you think we can make out of this?” things probably aren’t going to end well. And, when you end a relationship by saying: “I don't like the way this script of ours has turned out. It's turning into a seedy little drama” and your partner asks if you’re cancelling the show (your relationship) you are just too, too much.  She was a reality TV star without even being on TV.  And, who could make self-absorption and bitchy look sexier than Dunaway?  Just a phenomenal performance.

Overall, Network was nominated for ten Academy Awards (it won four, including Best Supporting Actress Beatrice Straight).  While it might have lost out to Rocky (1976) for Best Picture, it is one of the most important films of the 1970s. It tapped into something about the entertainment industry that most people in 1976 thought was nothing more than black comedy—ah, but what a prophetic film it turned out to be.