by Reginald Rose
Directed by Scott Ellis
A Mirvish Presentation
at the Princess of Wales Theatre
January 8-February 10, 2008.

    Sometimes racing with a shrill tone and blasting force—rather like a train in the New York subway that can be heard on the prologue soundtrack—Reginald Rose’s fifties courthouse drama has not lost its velocity or power. It’s a well-made play in the conventional fashion of such a genre—observing the unities of time, place, and action—and though it is melodramatic and has an ending that is far from a surprise, Twelve Angry Men is good entertainment. Set in a jury room (on a sweltering hot summer day in 1954) where twelve men of various temperaments and backgrounds have collected in an attempt to reach a unanimous verdict in a murder case involving a sixteen-year old boy’s alleged stabbing-death of his own father, the play holds to a rising curve throughout its 90-minute playing time, with only the briefest pauses for diversion. As the twelve men saunter in (after the judge’s charge to the jury in a brief voice-over), they are hot and bothered, not so much by the facts of the case itself as by the weather. The fan doesn’t work and they hope—no, expect—to reach a unanimous verdict almost immediately. But there’s a fly in the ointment: Juror Eight, who wants to talk. He doesn’t know whether he believes the young accused or not, and he does not find it easy to raise his hand to send a youth to die in the electric chair. Tempers flare—and that is the beginning of what amounts to a taut jury-drama that flares into heated exchanges verging on violence and burning at times with racism, chauvinism, and other personal grievances.

   It doesn’t really matter that each man is a type: there’s the Angry Father, the Wise Guy, the Old World Immigrant, the Buttoned-down Businessman, the Fulsome Racist, et cetera. The melodrama thrives on these familiar types. It doesn’t even matter much that every conflict carries its own easy stock responses and solutions, or that the Earnest Rationalist ends up changing everyone’s vote to his way of thinking. What matters is the manner in which the debates and conflicts are rendered on stage, and in this regard, the Roundabout production (that debuted with many different actors in October, 2004) is a thrilling triumph. Allen Moyer’s jury room set, Michael Krass’ mundane working-class costumes, and Paul Palazzo’s lighting establish a sturdy physical realism that Scott Ellis’ excellent cast fleshes out. Each juror gets his little moment of special attention, but some of the men get considerably more, and in this regard, there are especially good performances by Alan Mandell as the physically infirm but spiritually firm and touching Juror Nine, David Lively as Juror Eleven, the Middle European watchmaker with strong American patriotism, and Mike Boland as Juror One, the harried foreman. Kevin Dobson as inflammatory Juror Ten has physical presence and power, but his is largely a single note performance and it is a shrill note. As Juror Three, the Angry Father and Public Avenger with his own secret, Julian Gamble acts properly in high dudgeon, though he lacks the sort of riveting force that I have seen in the same role when done by the late George C. Scott (on film for television) or (best of all) the late Lee J. Cobb in the memorable 1957 film version. However, Gamble balances well against Richard Thomas, who plays the dissenting Juror Eight with quiet, rational sincerity, and though he doesn’t have the sort of inner anguish that the late Henry Fonda brought to the same role in the film, Thomas is an effective, patient hero.

   Twelve Angry Men represents an all-male microcosm of a society fraught with socio-economic tensions, and though it is obviously dated in its details (as in allusions to Kruschev and Jack Dempsey, for instance), the dating does not detract from the drama on stage. When a good cast works with good material, the results can be impressive. The opening night audience certainly thought so, giving the production an overwhelming standing ovation.    

photos:Joan Marcus


Go Back to: Stage Reviews