When Clint Eastwood’s new film, Juror #2, faded to black at the end, I was overcome with emotion. Not so much from the effect of the film, which certainly was part of it, but from this overwhelming feeling that films like it, already scarce in our theaters, would soon be near extinct. As my nearly full screening in November and Warner Bros.’ decision to hold over its release for another week or so proved (and possibly expanded to more cities), the mid-budget adult drama with a big name behind it is still in demand. One wouldn’t think so when considering Warner Bros.’ initial decision to release the film to only 48 screens in the U.S. Juror #2 would be a huge hit in the 1990s or 2000s. Today it’s given a perfunctory release in theaters with hopes to unceremoniously drop it on streaming as soon as possible, forgotten among Max’s lineup of “content” (now streaming on that service), never even given a chance to succeed on a broader scale theatrically, which it most certainly would have, recalling those glory days of the mid-budget adult drama. Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav apparently doesn’t care that Clint Eastwood (he’s still beloved by the French, they gave the film 458 screens) has been with the studio for nearly six decades and has brought billions of dollars to the studio with his past box office hits. It makes me hurt for the state of movies and moviegoing, because at 94 years old, the legendary Eastwood (I wonder if the Warner Bros. studio tour still points out his office) has made one of the best studio films of the year.
Nicholas Hoult gives an assured performance as Justin Kemp, a recovering alcoholic with a baby on the way, though still grieving his wife Allison’s (Zoey Deutch) miscarriage years before. Around that same time, a woman named Kendall Carter was supposedly murdered and found dead underneath a bridge. Kemp is called to jury duty for her murder trial, where the accused is Carter’s boyfriend, James Sythe, pleading not guilty. A nine-month pregnant wife does not excuse Kemp from jury duty, despite his attempts to back out during voir dire. This is unfortunate for him, because the revelation that comes to him during the trial will forever change his life. Kemp, or Juror #2, might actually be the one that killed Kendall Carter, hitting her by accident with his car on a rainy night of limited visibility and sending her tumbling to her death in the darkness under the bridge. Finding nothing or nobody, and assuming he hit a deer, he moved on.
What unravels is a brilliant, economical critique of a system that is beyond stable, prizing the individual and the nuclear family (a bold survey from the conservative-leaning Eastwood) over justice and ethical duty. After hearing the cases from both the defense, Eric, (Chris Messina) and prosecutor Faith (Toni Collette) who is running for district attorney, an anxious Kemp and his co-jurors begin to deliberate. Wanting to get out of there and back to their lives, all but one of the jurors believe without a doubt that Sythe is guilty. Suddenly, the film turns into a twisted 12 Angry Men with Kemp being the one holdout on the guilty verdict. There are a few reasons Kemp decides to play devil’s advocate here, besides the fact that he himself may be the devil of the situation. Ultimately, it’s all about him and his incipient family. Sure, if he did hit Kendall Carter that night (his memory of that night is hazy and the film gives us no clear answers, nor takes sides), he obviously feels terrible about it. But it’s done and more importantly, he’s got a wife at home on the verge of giving birth and he’s not going back to her and their baby having quickly decided on a guilty verdict for a man who may not deserve it. Therefore, he sees two goals in this position he’s in and he’ll do everything he can to meet them. First, feel good about not convicting a potentially innocent man and secondly, avoid prison himself. A lofty task for one man. But perhaps not for a man emboldened by the novelty of a comfortable family life.
The nitpickers who demand pure reality from their cinema (if they even saw it) have had a field day with this one. Perhaps the contrivances of the script, and there are many, can be too much for most. As for myself, who cares? Juror #2 is from a post-classical Hollywood auteur but its brilliance can be found in its ties to the classical. While also being well lit, staged, and blocked, its narrative calls back to that era of economical storytelling, where only the necessary information is given from scene to scene. It helps that the flashbacks, revealing the night of Kendall Carter’s “murder,” are so compelling (which is rare for films reliant on flashbacks) and effective in building tension, since it is the most important event of the film. Even a big name like Kiefer Sutherland is in the film as Kemp’s sponsor, strictly to provide the information both Kemp and the audience needs while keeping Kemp’s secret even though it’s definitely illegal.
Juror #2 is a complicated and provocative film, turning a probing eye not only on its protagonist, but on its audience too. It’s interesting to see such a film come from a legendary Hollywood figure whose career started in the 1950s. That decade when the myth of the American family was at its pinnacle and a time many Americans still point to as the ideal. Why else do people defend a family man (it’s almost always a man), who has committed a heinous crime, saying they were a “loving father” or “they couldn’t have done something like that” (Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis defending Danny Masterson being a recent public example)? And it’s not always morally, think about how many times people avoid social obligations or become distant with friends because of family and kids. The banned books, the “parent’s rights” cause, the distrust of public schools, the abhorrence of public transportation, and so many other ridiculous fears - these all come from the belief that children can only be protected by their relations, safe in the arms of their parents who claim to know what's best for their kid when that's clearly not always the case. Only through family can certain things be permitted.
The most harrowing scene of the picture, staged so brilliantly by Eastwood, comes at the end. I was quite shaken by this scene and it was when I realized the true excellence of the picture. On a bench in front of the courthouse, Faith the prosecutor and now D.A, sits with Kemp. She’s got him figured out and she implies to him that she knows, though turning him might ruin her career. Kemp (Hoult, who anchors the whole film, is especially good here), through his own insinuations, finally reveals his true inner nature speaking with her, declaring himself to be a good man, justifying all of his decisions simply because he’s now a father with a family. It was an accident and he’s just a normal law-abiding citizen. Sythe, on the other hand, though maybe not a murderer, was proven during the trial and deliberation to have a criminal background. Who should prevail here? How do we reconcile our justice system with such a complex case? And what do we, as spectators, believe is the best possible outcome? These are all questions the film asks and, to its credit, leaves for us to consider.
I do know that watching the bench scene, something in Faith’s face (Collete, also brilliant here) switches when Kemp disturbingly tries to justify himself to her, boldly claiming he’s a good, regular family man. And apparently that alone, whether by his hands Kendall Carter’s death was an accident or not, entitles him to live free as a father, guilt as his only punishment. It’s that sudden realization in Faith’s face that’s so forceful because it’s a realization of the harm that is the myth of the American family. For Eastwood to so boldly critique what is a mainstay of American values and firm belief in American culture is astounding, perhaps disillusionment in his old age or bitter disappointment at the country he’s believed in for so long and is soon to leave behind (I truly hope not any time soon). And the final scene, when there’s a knock on Kemp’s door because Faith - a newly elected D.A. and great at playing politician - decides to do the right thing, is both poignant and scathing. Kemp answers the door and it’s still easy to feel a little bad for him. Why? Because his newborn is crying in his wife’s lap just behind him. But because of that scene on the bench, we also know who he is and we know from the rest of the film what he’s capable of. His warped version of Henry Fonda’s juror #8 was impressive to watch. But, true justice should be served, whether one has a family or not. Juror #2 not only points to our justice system and the ostensible justice it serves, it also asks us to contemplate the family unit and its place as one of the cornerstones of the American dream. And these two imperfect institutions, so deeply entrenched in this country, are at odds with each other in Eastwood’s very late-career masterwork. But like Justin Kemp, sitting as juror #2 for the trial on the crime he may have committed, we do everything but acknowledge and admit.
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