Chris Eldon Lee reviews “Twelve Angry Men”, which is at Wolverhampton Grand Theatre until Saturday 23rd May 2015
In the mid 50s, American screenplay writer Reginald Rose was called up for jury service on a manslaughter case. The trial was interesting enough, but the jury room debate climaxed in a furious 8-hour argument between twelve angry men.
The first law of successful writing is to ‘spot a good story’ and whilst Rose’s subsequent film (starring Henry Fonda) was not an instant commercial success, the script has endured and is currently in the hands of a dozen animated actors in a Birmingham Rep touring production. And boy, do they get convincingly angry!
I have fond childhood memories of TV’s Perry Mason. The old black and white films were filled with twisting court cases and testimonial tension. What we rarely saw was the jury’s deliberations. Christopher Haydon’s hot, sweaty, grainy production takes us ‘backstage’ and opens up a whole new discussion about how jurors absorb information and then distort it with their own prejudices. It’s a gripping and pertinent play, despite the decades.
The case is that of an unnamed, unseen, 16-year-old boy accused of stabbing to death his own violent father on the seedy side of town. The voice of the judge booms over the opening curtain, “First degree premeditated murder with a mandatory death sentence needs a unanimous verdict. Good luck gentlemen. I don’t envy your job”
Leading the line is Juror 8, an architect, played by Jason Merrells (pictured). In a Martin Bell white suit, he stares blankly out of the window, waiting his moment. He has “reasonable doubt” about the boy’s guilt and – compelled to persuade the other 11 likewise – unpicks the shoddily conducted court case for us. The witnesses were elderly. It was dark. Did they hear right?
Considering he’s just joined the show, Merrells is utterly commanding. Playing ‘Mister Reasonable’, with occasional bursts of barely controlled indignation, he cunningly manipulates his fellow Americans. He reveals redneck tendencies and a Klu Klux Klan approach to race relations amongst the bullies (the most alarming of which is most aggressively played by the usually mild mannered Dennis Lill) and he sows civilized uncertainties within the minds of the professionals. Considering we only get snapshots of their personalities, the writing and playing of such a broad cross section of American male society is compelling.
Also outstanding is Andrew Lancel’s belligerent, bigoted Juror 3, who is mercilessly driven to a guilt verdict by a pent up anger about his own son’s behaviour. His personal denouement is a moment of real conviction acting.
I loved the clackerty-clack of the passing elevated trains, and how the gathering storm fuelled fraying tempers; and the ever-so-subtle way the stage gently revolved to constantly vary our angle on proceedings. In a neat physical metaphor, as it slowly comes round, so do the jurors.
The designer might have done more to concentrate the claustrophobia (the set is very open plan) but otherwise the production team gave the actors great service; providing real rain and dusky lighting, which added to the steamy, angst-ridden atmosphere.
The process of law is doubtless much more diligent today. But still mistakes are made and there are still stories of cover-ups, corruption and incompetence. So not only is this an excellent night in the theatre, it’s also a polished mirror, to be reflected upon with all due process.
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