Twisty courtroom thrillers have been scarce lately, and this one’s a corker.
Jonathan A. Abrams’ sharp script — an impressive screenwriting debut — is well matched with director Clint Eastwood’s capably measured approach. The first half hour sets up expectations of a feisty battle between prosecutor Faith Killebrew (Toni Collette) and defense attorney Eric Resnick (Chris Messina), possibly moving into 12 Angry Men territory, involving a lone hold-out during jury deliberations.
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| Justin (Nicholas Hoult, second from left in the front row) soon realizes that he likely knows more than the rest of his fellow jurors. They include Harold (J.K. Simmons, two seats to Justin's left.) |
The setting is Savannah, Georgia. Justin Kemp (Nicholas Hoult), a recovering alcoholic four years sober, writes for a regional lifestyle magazine. He’s married to Allison (Zoey Deutch), nine months into a high-risk pregnancy, after previous efforts failed. She’s understandably anxious and clinging, and the last thing she wants is for Justin to get tagged after showing up for a jury summons.
Their initial dynamic feels brittle, which Hoult and Deutch handle persuasively. She’s a fragile mess, and he’s patient and solicitous to an exaggerated degree. It becomes clear that, just as Allison doesn’t want to do anything to screw up her pregnancy, Justin doesn’t want to betray the second chance that she gave him, four years earlier.
Justin does indeed get selected, after an amusing exchange with Judge Thelma Hollub (Amy Aquino, always solid). It’s a murder trial, with James Michael Sythe (Gabriel Basso) accused of killing his girlfriend, Kendall Carter (Francesca Eastwood), after a nasty spat at The Hideaway, their favorite bar.
As recounted in flashback — by several witnesses — a few details change, Rashomon-style. Even so, the core events seem solid: Sythe and Carter argued, and he broke a bottle; they continued to yell at each other outside, in the pouring rain; she left in a huff, walking down the darkened road; after a brief pause, he got into his car and followed her.
A hiker found Carter’s body the next morning, in a creek channel beneath a bridge along the same road.
Killebrew builds a solid case, based primarily on Sythe’s sketchy history and longtime aggressive behavior. But as Resnick subsequently points out, nobody saw his client kill Carter; the evidence is entirely circumstantial. As a sidebar, Killebrew has tied this case to her election campaign for district attorney; she can’t lose. This adds an unsavory note to Collette’s performance, as we wonder whether Killebrew’s judgment is compromised.
Although courtroom adversaries, Killebrew and Resnick are mates after hours; they socialize — mildly flirty, possibly suggesting an earlier relationship — while arguing the respective merits of the case. Collette and Messina are comfortable together, and it’s easy to accept them as respectful colleagues.
But Killebrew clearly has a bias; she’s determined to nail Sythe because she doesn’t like “his type.” She’s determined to protect women from “this sort of man.” Resnick is more pragmatic and inquisitive, and he genuinely doesn’t believe that Sythe is guilty.
But as details of the case emerge, Justin realizes — with a shock — that he was in The Hideaway that night.
That’s a shock ... because what was a recovering alcoholic doing in a bar?
(The situation becomes even more twisty ... but I’ll not spoil the fun.)
The trial concludes; Justin and the other jurors retire to deliberate. Stand-outs, within the room, include the pragmatic Denice (Leslie Bibb), who volunteers to act as foreperson; Marcus (Cedric Yarbrough), who believes Sythe guilty; Keiko (Chikako Fukuyama), a medical student focused on the damage Carter’s body took; and Harold (J.K. Simmons), a former homicide detective.
All the others also shine during individual moments; the subsequent discussions and arguments develop organically.
Hoult is wholly credible, with respect to Justin’s subsequent mood shifts; he navigates considerable emotional territory. At home, after hours, Allison can sense that something isn’t quite right, but she has no idea what.
As one would expect of a former cop, Harold approaches the case more thoughtfully than the rest; Simmons, as always, wholly inhabits his role. Harold and Justin become allies of a sort, with respect to inserting doubt into the case ... much to the annoyance of Marcus and several other jurors.
Kiefer Sutherland is excellent as Larry Lasker, Justin’s AA sponsor, who also happens to be a lawyer. Lasker is a listener — Sutherland excels at that — and his subsequent advice is calm and to the point.
At first blush, Basso’s performance as Sythe makes the guy seem guilty as hell; he’s impatient, belligerent and possesses a hair-trigger temper. But doubt eventually creeps in, and that’s the beauty of how Eastwood handles every character; we dare not make snap judgments about any of them, because expectations are confounded.
It’s fun to see Collette and Hoult share the screen again, after co-starring in 2002’s About a Boy, when the latter was just a boy. Bria Brimmer also is a mild hoot as Wood, the courtroom bailiff.
Mark Mancina’s score is quiet and thoughtful, and employed sparingly.
Back in the day, a new film by Eastwood would have garnered plenty of headlines and wide theatrical release; this is, after all, the guy who helmed two Academy Award-winning Best Pictures — 1993’s Unforgiven and 2005’s Million Dollar Baby — and has delivered hits for Warner Bros. for half a century.
I’m therefore bewildered by Warners’ decision to all but bury Juror #2 with an unheralded streaming release, after granting it only fleeting and token theatrical release on only a handful of screens. It isn’t merely disrespectful; it’s stupid, considering how absorbing this film is.
It deserves better.
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