12 Angry Men

I missed out on a lot of common experiences in high school because my classes tended to have unusual curriculum.  I have never read The Scarlet Letter, Jane Eyre, Beowulf, or Heart of Darkness.  I know, I know, I'm a lucky fella.  I also was not required to see 12 Angry Men when I studied the Constitution or in a speech class (in the "group think" chapter).  Sure, I've heard about the movie from my peers, but I never felt compelled to watch it, even when I noticed that it was in IMDB's top ten rated movies of all time.  Sometimes, I don't know what my problem is.

12 Angry Men is not the follow-up movie adaptation to the Bill Bixby/Lou Ferrigno television show, The Angriest Man.  Instead, it is a courtroom drama that actually doesn't take place in a courtroom at all.  As the movie poster suggests, it takes place in a dynamite factory.  The vast majority of the film (aside from a brief opening scene and a quick epilogue) takes place in the jury room.  The audience has not heard the lawyers speak, but the jury has heard the complete arguments of the prosecutors and the defense, and now it's time to decide whether the defendant is guilty or not guilty.  Of course, you need all twelve jurors to agree on the verdict, or else the jury is hung and the whole shebang is declared a mistrial.  That sounds pretty simple, but this is a capital crime, so a "guilty" verdict will result in the death penalty.  Despite the gravity of the case, the jury initially sits down and assumes that their deliberation will take all of five minutes; the case seems open-and-shut.  The first vote is 11-1, guilty, with only Juror 8 (Henry Fonda) dissenting.  And since the vote has to be unanimous, it is up to the rest of the jurors to convince (by whatever means) Juror 8 to change his vote...or, it is up to him to change everyone else's.

After I first watched this movie, I realized that there were some subtleties that I had missed the first time through; after my second viewing, I can definitely say that director Sidney Lumet did a great job.  Just the camerawork alone is fantastic.  You would think that a film set in one room would be visually dull and probably peppered with close-ups to vary the shots, but not this one.  The final shot of the film, a wide-angle crane shot of the jurors all leaving the courthouse, was what piqued my interest.  That shot felt so refreshing that I had to review the film and figure out why.  Here's what I noticed: the camera angles in the movie gradually shift their angle as the film progresses.  In the beginning, all the camera shots are a looking down slightly, or are at least at eye-level; by the end of the film, every shot is looking up at the actors.  So what?  Well, looking up at the actors (especially when they're arguing and are getting all sweaty) brings the ceiling into the shot, like the room is getting smaller (or the men are slowly swelling, I suppose).  It also felt like the room was getting smaller, too; I'm not sure if that was a camera trick, or maybe a larger table in the room, or maybe the set walls were pushed in a little, but I'm pretty sure that it wasn't just my imagination.  These subtle cinematographic techniques add layers to the film, making it work on a subconscious level as well as the obvious look-at-the-actors-level.

The fancy camera tactics wouldn't have helped if the cast was no good, but this film is stacked with noteworthy actors.  As the conscience of film, Henry Fonda is the main character, and he is as good as he usually is; Henry Fonda was one of the great do-gooders in film, with most of his characters (at least, in his most famous movies) being noble and brave.  You wouldn't think that a film that essentially boils down to fighting peer pressure (vote guilty, everybody's doing it) could have a brave character, but that's what Fonda brings to the table.  Lee J. Cobb, as Juror 3, played Fonda's nemesis, of sorts.  He was perfect as the brutish, bullying jerk, the perfect foil for Fonda's calm rationality.  The rest of the players (Martin Balsam, John "the voice of Piglet" Fiedler, E.G. Marshall, Jack Klugman, Edward Binns, Jack Warden, Joseph Sweeney, Ed Begley, George Voskovec, and Robert Webber) were good, although some were a little one-dimensional.  The standout were Ed Begley's performance as the bitter racist and John Fiedler, in his typical role as the timid guy in the room.

This film was made in 1957 and that age shows itself from time to time.  The fact that an "ethnic" defendant would have twelve middle-aged or older white men for his jury feels a little odd now.  And I realize that racism is still an issue in America, but the scene where everyone turns their back on Begley (while powerful) is a little more dramatic than realistic.  Still, this is a great movie that is still relevant.  The film takes a basic concept --- that of reasonable doubt --- and forms a subtle, intelligent movie around it.  The movie isn't even long, clocking in at just over ninety minutes, and it is packed full of interesting, varied performances.  This film's quality was not a foregone conclusion --- it was made on a shoestring budget and featured a first-time film director --- but it still managed to be nominated for Best Picture, Director, and Adapted Screenplay, all for a picture set in one room, based on a legal issue.

Yeah...this is a good one.

The Odd Couple

Films adapted from plays can have difficulties during the creative process.  Unlike adaptations of literature, comic books, comic strips, or legends, plays usually do not suffer from an oversimplification or over-condensation of material; plays typically run about as long as feature films do.  You can usually spot a former play by the sharp dialogue, the absence of complicated action sequences, and the large number of scenes that feature only one or two characters.  Some of my favorite films have been adapted from plays (I love me some Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?), but I recognize that some things that work on the stage do not work on film.  For instance, on stage, it is necessary to make broad gestures and speak loudly so the audience can hear and see what is happening; with the intimacy of movie cameras, films can be much more intimate and subtle.  Sometimes, the screenplays for these adaptations take that subtlety into account.  Sometimes, they don't.

The Odd Couple begins with Felix Ungar (Jack Lemmon) renting a room at a sleazy hotel.  He planned to commit suicide by jumping out of his hotel room window because his wife has left him.  It is not Felix's day, though; his window was jammed and he threw his back out, trying to open it.  He even failed to drink the pain away afterward, hurting his neck when downing a shot of liquor.  Felix then hobbled toward a bridge to contemplate suicide again.  I would like to take the time to point out that this is, in fact, a comedy (ranking #17 in AFI's 100 Years...100 Laughs list) that opens with physical humor and the foibles of a suicidal person.  I'm not judging (yet), but I thought I'd throw that idea out there.

Meanwhile, Felix is missed by his buddies at their weekly poker game.  Felix is never late, so the group (including classic character actors John Fiedler and Herb Edelman) is mildly bewildered by his tardiness.  That bewilderment turns to pronounced concern when the host, Oscar  Madison (Walter Matthau), gets a call from his ex-wife, telling him the news of the Ungar's breakup.  Oscar and the boys immediately worry that Felix will attempt suicide; I guess his friends knew him well.  Before anyone can take action, Felix arrives at Oscar's for the poker game.  He eventually breaks down and tells them his troubles, and Oscar decides to offer Felix a room in his eight bedroom (***mouth agape***) New York City apartment (***jaw now on the floor, completely detached from face***) to stay in until he can overcome his suicidal tendencies.  You would think that two poker buddies would get along just fine in an apartment that size; even if somebody's annoying, you can just take up residence in the Northern wing.  Apparently, though, there is a small hitch.  Oscar is a slovenly person, while Felix is an obsessively tidy person.  What kind of crazy hijinks will these kids get into?  Well, if you're not guffawing at the mere thought of such an unlikely pair living together...well, tough --- that's where all of the humor in this movie stems from.

The Odd Couple is a notable comedy or many reasons.  It was nominated for two Oscars (one for writing, the other for editing), which is extremely rare for comedies.  It helps that the screenplay was written by Neil Simon, who wrote the Tony Award-winning play.  Walter Matthau starred in the play as well as the movie; this was his first comedic role in a film.  This was also the first collaboration between Matthau and Jack Lemmon, one of the most famous pairs in film history.  Even without the AFI ranking, this is generally regarded as a comedy classic.

I just wish I liked it more.  I appreciate a lot of the things this film does well, though.  The acting is well-suited for the script.  Matthau is very entertaining and Lemmon plays his part well; together, their banter is a great example of timing and chemistry.  The supporting cast is universally solid or better; I particularly liked Monica Evans and Carole Shelley as the feather-brained Pigeon sisters.  The direction must be pretty good from habitual stage director George Saks; if it wasn't good, then I doubt that Lemmon and Matthau would have worked so well together.

If all that is good, what could I possibly have a problem with?  I'm not sure.  I think it's the script.  I'm pretty familiar with Neil Simon's plays; he writes bickering friends like no other playwright, so this is obviously one of his seminal works.  I just don't like a lot of what he wrote here.  I find Felix's character utterly obnoxious.  I understand that is the point, but this isn't like other movies with buffoonish characters --- I have an active dislike for Felix Ungar.  I think Lemmon played the part perfectly for the way it is written, but his performance comes across as less subtle than a Jerry Lewis comedy and hammier than Christmas dinner.  For the first two-thirds of the movie, I not only completely sympathized with Oscar's character, but I was rooting for another suicide attempt.  I guess my problem is that the script is so one-sided.  You're rooting for Oscar, despite all the good things that Felix does because Felix's character is really, really annoying.  If that was evened out, so that Oscar's slovenly ways could be shown as truly disgusting instead of just messy, I think Felix's character would seem like less of a cartoon character.

Part of my problem might be overexposure.  While this is the first time I watched this film, it has spawned a sequel, two television shows, one animated show, and a female version of the play, all while the original play has been produced and reproduced several times over.  The idea of the tidy Felix and Oscar the slob has become omnipresent in our culture to the point that if you say that a pair is an "odd couple," thoughts immediately jump to these characters.  Then again, maybe I didn't really like this movie because my thoughts on humor are a little odd.

I mentioned that the first two-thirds of the movie were painful for me to watch; I have to admit that I enjoyed the last third.  Starting from approximately the confrontation in Oscar's bedroom (the "F.U." line is fantastic), I really got into the movie.  I liked when the two men were ripping into each other.  I liked the scene with the Pigeon sisters even more, because it highlighted the differences between the two men much better than the obvious gags and overacting from earlier in the film did.  This movie even manages to have a touching ending, which is beyond rare in comedies.  So, despite digging itself into a deep hole, The Odd Couple came back and I actually enjoyed the last bit very much.