Themes, writing, and more
Nick Toney · Follow
Published in · 8 min read · Oct 9, 2020
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SPOILER ALERT
In summary, this film is about twelve men in charge of deciding whether or not an 18-year-old Hispanic boy is guilty of first-degree murder…of his father. The film starts in the courtroom with the judge stating that it’s the juror's duty to “sit down and separate the facts from the fancy.” The jury retires to discuss the seemingly unanimous verdict of guilty. After the first ballot, all vote guilty — all but one: Juror #8, our main character one might say. Juror #8 votes not guilty strictly because he isn’t sure…and that’s all it takes. After he expresses his desire for discussion, Juror #8 slowly convinces more and more of the jury to hear his side of the arguments, swaying them to believe the boy is not guilty as the film progresses — due in large part to reasonable doubt.
Although this film possesses many underlying themes that deal with a variety of complex issues, one of the greatest takeaways is that anything is possible.
Towards the beginning of the film when considering the possibility of the accused being not guilty, Juror #8 says, “It’s possible isn’t it?” All it takes is reasonable doubt of one man, one man who stood alone against a room of men convinced that this boy is guilty.
“It’s not easy to stand alone against the ridicule of others.” — Juror #9
It seemed impossible for one man standing alone against 11 jurors who are more than convinced that the defendant is guilty, to convince them all to hear his side and eventually get them to vote not guilty as well. You may think to yourself, “There’s no way this guy will win. There’s no way they all vote not guilty.” But just like Juror #8 says: It’s possible, isn’t it?
In the early discussion of the verdict, Juror #10 asks “What are we sitting here for?” Juror #8 states that “I just think we owe him a few words that’s all.” After telling Juror #8 he believes they don’t owe the accused a thing, Juror #10 makes a small speech:
“You’re not going to tell me that we’re supposed to believe this kid knowing what he is? Listen I’ve lived among them all my life you can’t believe a word they say you know that. I mean, they’re born liars.” — Juror #10
Juror #9 responds by saying, “Only an ignorant man can believe that” and that’s the last we hear of Juror #10’s prejudice for a while.
Near the end of the film, the most powerful scene — objectively, is when Juror #10 rants about the incredibility of the accused based on his own personal prejudice. As Juror #10 rants to the rest of the jury, they all turn away. They don’t speak, they don’t argue. Their silence speaks volumes.
Metaphor
Just after another vote is taken, this time split: 6 for guilty & 6 for not guilty, they take a short break. After it starts raining, Juror #1 and Juror #8 go to lower the windows, where Juror #1 shares an anecdote. He’s the assistant head coach of a high school football team where he once played a game where his team was behind 7–6, but they’re “starting to move along real nice.” The opposing team’s line is coming apart, but Juror #1’s team starts to come down cats and dogs, like the rain before their eyes at that very moment.
This anecdote serves as a metaphor for their current situation. The team that’s ahead in the football game is the not-guilty party in the metaphor, they’re winning, and they start slowing down. Juror 1#’s team, the guilty party, is trying to come back, and it all falls apart right before their very eyes. This also foreshadows what is to come next in the movie. Will the guilty party collapse?
Irony & Allusion
Coincidentally after the prementioned metaphor, we cut to Juror #7, a current advocate for the guilty party. He points to the fan behind him and asks “Hey what is it with this fan here?” He turns around to try and turn it on, succeeding, and celebrating his success by saying, “Well things are looking up here, huh?” Ironically, things are looking up for those who oppose him.
After he sits down, he crumbles a piece of paper and throws it into the fan saying, “two points.” This alludes to the two jurors who joined the not-guilty party just before this.
The not-guilty party just received two points or two voters, and things are indeed looking up — just not for the guilty party.
Plant and Payoff
Sweat
While contemplating his argument as it falls apart before his eyes, Juror #4 sits in silence. Where everyone is struggling with the heat, taking their coats off, sweating puddles, Juror #4 smokes a cigarette. As he does, Juror #5 leans over and asks, “Pardon me, but don’t you ever sweat?” Juror #4 looks over, coldly, and responds “No, I don’t.” This is the plant.
Almost 8 minutes later Juror #8 presents another argument, specifically to Juror #4. The boy’s alibi is that he was at the movies during the hours the killing took place, although he couldn’t remember the names of the movies or the stars who appeared in them. Juror #8 implores that Juror #4 put himself in the boy’s shoes. The boy had been slapped in the face by his own father, and when he was questioned by the police later that night, it was in the kitchen of his apartment where his father’s body lays in the bedroom, how could he remember the name of the movie he saw under such circumstances?
Nevertheless, Juror #4 believes he himself could remember those details even under great emotional stress, so the boy must be able to as well. So, Juror #8 gets personal. He asks Juror #4 where he was last night, and the night before that until he gets to Monday night where Juror #4 was at the movies. Juror #8 grills him. “What did you see? What was the second feature? Who was in it?” Juror #4 struggles to answer, although confident, he answers incorrectly to some of the questions. As he struggles to answer who was in the film he saw — a single drop of sweat falls down his forehead. This is the payoff. This stubborn, arrogant man — is sweating. He’s nervous. He answered confidently when asked if he ever sweats, but again…it’s possible, isn’t it?
Kids These Days
At the beginning of the film, Juror #8 describes how the accused boy has dealt with physical abuse his whole life, “This boy has been hit so many times in his life that violence is a normal state of affairs with him. I can’t see two slaps in the face provoking him into committing murder.” In response, Juror #4 states:
“It may have been two too many. Everyone has a breaking point.” — Juror #4
Then, after Juror #7 shares his two cents on the matter, Juror #3 steps in. Juror #3 is without a doubt the most stubborn, hair-trigger tempered, unreasonable man of all the men on the jury. However, in this instance he shares his thoughts calmly, saying how he thinks kids are disrespectful nowadays. After asking Juror #8 if he has kids, Juror #3 takes a picture from his wallet and shares he has a 22-year old son who ran away from a fight when he was 9. As he looks at the picture he says:
“I saw it I was so embarrassed I almost threw up. I said I’m gonna make a man out of you if I have to break you in 2 tryin. Well I made a man out of him. When he was 16 we had a fight. Hit me on the jaw, he’s a big kid. I haven’t seen him for two years. Kids. Work your heart out.” — Juror #3
Very early in the film, we receive more background on Juror #3 than we’ve gotten on any other juror so far. Although we haven’t seen much of his stubbornness or rage yet, we now have insight as to why he acts the way he does, and how much his bad relationship with his son affects him. This is arguably one of the most important aspects of the film. This — is the plant.
Throughout the film, Juror #3 is a brick wall in regards to him hearing opposing arguments, barring a minor exception or two. He always draws back to the conclusion that the boy is guilty. But, as the film progresses every juror eventually concludes that the boy is not guilty: everyone except Juror #3. He won’t concur. Not only do we think to ourselves, “How is Juror #8 going to get them all to vote not guilty?” but as the film progresses, we focus on the question, “How will anybody ever get Juror #3 to vote not guilty?” A task seemingly more impossible than any other in the film.
Now that everyone else has voted not guilty, it’s Juror #3’s turn to convince the room that the boy is guilty. He gets up, and screams his argument one last time, insisting there’s no way they can prove any of their arguments that the boy is not guilty. He reaches into his wallet, “I’m telling you I’ve got all the facts here.” As he stumbles through his wallet, he throws it at the table after seeing the picture of his son. He implores that the other jurors respond, but they just look at him. In a confused rage, he looks at the picture once more, “Rotten kids you work your life out!” He grabs the picture and tears it into pieces.
Everyone has a breaking point.
He puts his hand to his mouth and starts crying. “No. Not guilty. Not guilty.” The thing that made him stubborn, reluctant, and angry, was the very reason he concurs in the end. This is the payoff. As he bawls into his arm, the rest of the jurors exit the room. Juror #8 walks around the table and helps Juror #3 put his coat on. He grabs his wallet and leaves. The last to leave, of course, is Juror #8 — he’s done it.
It is my honest recommendation for anyone to watch this movie. Not only is it an intriguing plot, but this film possesses a large quantity of wisdom and life lessons that anyone can learn from. Additionally, 12 Angry Men’s method of utilizing storytelling and literary devices may be one of the most impressive I have ever seen.