Juror #2 is a movie about difficult choices and how our moral compass tends to shift when our circumstances change.  What we believe in the abstract suddenly becomes untenable when the things we value are at risk.  The difficulties involved with making the right choice despite the consequences has been a reliable subject for drama films, including several of director Clint Eastwood’s best (Unforgiven, Mystic River, Million Dollar Baby, and American Sniper).  It also happens to be the theme of Juror #2, which is what I imagine attracted Eastwood to the material.  The movie places the protagonist in an increasingly stressful situation and asks him to be an upstanding, law-abiding citizen.  However, doing so puts him directly at odds with being a good husband and father, which makes “the right choice” not so clear-cut.

The movie begins in a straightforward and casual way.  Justin Kemp (Nicolas Hoult), a remote worker and father-to-be, is summoned for jury duty.  His very pregnant wife Ally (Zoey Deutch) begs him to get out of it because her pregnancy is high-risk and her due date is rapidly approaching.  Justin agrees because, like most Americans, he’s fine with weaseling out of it when he doesn’t want to be inconvenienced.  (So you know, this movie’s grasp of the criminal justice process and the legal system is superficial–bordering on childlike.)

After Justin is picked for the trial, he asks to be excused in front of no-nonsense Judge Stewart (Amy Aquino).  She shoots him down because he’ll be home by 5:00 PM.  Things must be different in Savannah, Georgia, because Justin’s wife’s condition seemed like an excellent reason to be excused to me.  Ally is not happy because the situation leaves her alone for the day, leaving ample time to worry that her pregnancy will result in another miscarriage.  Justin promises Ally that he’ll come straight home after court, to which she responds by turning off the lights when she leaves the room.  (Like many characters in this movie, Ally is a broad stereotype, the pregnant wife who alternates between nagging and fretting.)

The trial Justin will be a jurist on is a juicy one, though.  James Sythe (Gabriel Basso) is charged with murdering his girlfriend Kendall (Francesca Eastwood) after they drank heavily at a bar, had a heated argument in front of everyone and stormed off separately in the pouring rain.  As Justin listens to the opening statements given by prosecutor Faith Killebrew (Toni Collette) and public defender Eric Resnick (Chris Messina), Justin quickly realizes that he’s involved in this sordid mess.  Not only was he at the bar that fateful night, he believes that he was the one who accidentally killed Kendall, and not James.  To be fair, his involvement is a series of improbable coincidences that would make for an entertaining thriller.  One can imagine Justin ingeniously pulling the strings to have James found not guilty for his own murder while not pointing the finger at himself, but Juror #2 has no intention of delivering pulpy thrills.  Instead, it wants to examine Justin’s tough decision through the unwieldy structure of the jury deliberation process.

Before we get to that point, there are a series of rote trial scenes, where Killerbrew tightens the noose around James while Resnick offers a mostly passive defense of his client.  (I wondered if the screenwriter, Jonathan A. Abrams, had ever seen movies about trials.)  Then, when both sides have rested their respective cases, the jury deliberations follow.  Every jurist is written according to cringy ethnic stereotypes.  For example, the two angry jurors are both African American.  Does the movie use them to provide an insightful take on the disproportionate outcomes of Black people versus White people convicted of similar crimes?  Nope.

Also among the jury is an old and frail White lady whose opinions shift in the wind.  The young man who sits next to her looks and sounds like a stoner and frequently aligns with her, presumably because she reminds him of his grandmother.  There’s an Asian-American woman who happens to be going to med school, who at one point makes several good points but then is promptly forgotten.  A young, pretty and fiery white female jurist wants justice for the victim, and the young white guy sitting next to her parrots her feelings because he’s into her.  When one jurist is removed, he’s replaced by a middle-aged white woman who’s obsessed with true crime.  If you’re guessing that this rainbow collection was brought together to have intense, personal discussions about the evidence and the crime, you’d be wrong.  Although they represent different segments of society, they have minimal critical thinking capabilities.  Their opinions are so easily swayed by Justin that I figured the movie was saying that people tend to agree with those who are white and handsome.  Or that we’re all powerless against the spell of Nicolas Hoult’s striking blue eyes.

The only juror that isn’t a stereotype is Harold Chicowski (JK Simmons), a former homicide detective.  He has misgivings about the case and tries to investigate it on his own, which raises plenty of red flags about how easy it is for someone like him to obtain personal information on ordinary citizens without a warrant.  As before, the movie shrugs off all legal concerns and lets him do his thing, until his actions are revealed to the judge and he’s promptly dismissed.  Then it’s back to the tedious deliberations, where we wait patiently for the movie to reveal whether Justin is going to actually help James be found not-guilty, or allow him to be found guilty so that Justin can return home to Ally in time for dinner.

Just when it looks like Justin’s plan is working, Justin is forced by another juror to stop his subtle manipulation of the jury and let things flow back to their original verdict.  Justin’s ultimate decision regarding James’ guilt or innocence wasn’t surprising to me, given how the movie telegraphs it very early on.  Then, the movie abruptly ends on a cliffhanger that amazingly made everything preceding it much less interesting in hindsight.

Recommendation

When I see a film by a legendary filmmaker like Clint Eastwood, my expectations are high.  He’s a four-time nominee for Best Director and has won twice, for Unforgiven and Million Dollar Baby.  The last film he directed that I saw, Sully, wasn’t among his greatest, but it was well-made and well-acted action-drama.  The characters were sympathetic and relatable, and the movie had enough tension and suspense to hold my interest throughout.  That film came out eight years ago.  The only explanation for why Juror #2 is one of the dullest films he’s ever made is that his skills have seriously degraded in the interim.

While Juror #2 is thematically similar to other films Eastwood has made, where men face difficult moral decisions and deal with the consequences of their choices.  Unfortunately, Juror #2 explores that theme in the laziest, most simplistic way possible.  On a technical level, scenes are constructed primarily with static shots of talking heads.  There’s not a single memorable image in this entire film, unless you count the numerous times Nicolas Hoult is shown teary-eyed.  As a director, Eastwood has rarely delved into formalist territory, preferring a straightforward style that doesn’t draw attention to itself.  Even still, there are visual compositions within his best work that I can still recall.  In this movie, scenes begin and shuffle along until they run out of steam.  The point-of-view shifts from one camera angle to another but fails to capture anything visually interesting.  Eastwood’s direction is still competent, in that the sets are well-lit, everything is in focus and the blocking is fine, but the overall effect is uninspired and frankly boring.

The plot, while built upon an intriguing premise, spends way too much time mimicking Twelve Angry Men and failing miserably.  The rainbow coalition of jurors are all broad stereotypes who spout laughably bland dialog that only reinforces those stereotypes further.  The moral dilemma that the protagonist faces surprisingly doesn’t produce any drama, either.  The movie pretends that he has a choice, but then proceeds to stack the deck so that when he does decide which way to go, it’s predictable.  Then, when the fallout of that choice finally arrives, the movie abruptly ends just when it would have become interesting.

As the protagonist, Nicolas Hoult is fine, even though the movie doesn’t ask him to do anything he hasn’t done elsewhere.  His performance is a collection of nervous tics, where he fidgets, stares like a deer caught in headlights or both.  Toni Collette is okay, but this is a role she could do in her sleep.  She attempts a very unconvincing Southern drawl early on, only to gradually chuck it over the course of the movie.  JK Simmons lends his character nuance and gravitas through his presence alone.  The problem is that once his character threatens to steal the spotlight away from Hoult and Collette, he’s promptly kicked out of the story.  The remaining cast play tissue paper thin characters that are offensive stereotypes.  For example, the only two African American actors in the cast play the most irritating members of the jury.

I could compare Juror #2 to a random Law & Order episode, but that would be an unfair comparison.  Unlike L&O, this movie has no interest in the societal and legal issues involved with the underlying crime, is sluggishly paced and has minimal tension or suspense.  My animosity towards this movie would probably be less if it was helmed by a journeyman director whose career was spent in television.  That, however, isn’t the case with Juror #2.  Considering that Clint Eastwood is widely considered as one of the greatest American directors working today , it’s inconceivable to me that he directed a movie so forgettable.  Juror #2 isn’t the worst movie I’ve ever seen, but the way it turns a solid premise into a clichéd, listless, paint-by-numbers melodrama was disappointing.  I never expected to say this about a Clint Eastwood film, but this one was directed on autopilot.  Not Recommended.

Analysis

Few movies are perfect, something I remind myself whenever I review a film.  Plenty of entertaining movies have plot holes if you put it under a microscope.  I never plan for my analysis of a film to wade into CinemaSins territory, awarding myself points for identifying every plot hole or contrivance.  My dislike with Juror #2 goes far beyond mere nit-picking, though.  I found that the way the movie handles several critical elements of the plot were genuinely stupefying.  Honestly, episodes of Matlock and Murder She Wrote are better than this movie.

This is not to say that Juror #2’s plot needed to be tight as a drum to work for me.  My brain is definitely capable of switching into “suspension of disbelief” mode if the movie succeeds on other levels.  Unfortunately, Juror #2 doesn’t deliver on any level.  As I mentioned above, the performances are nothing special, the supporting characters are made up of annoying stereotypes, the direction is dull and the pacing lethargic.  Making matters worse is that whenever the movie appears headed for an interesting turn, the movie shies away from it, leaving us to resume watching Nicolous Hoult shift nervously on a hot seat of his own making.  Many times, I wondered if Eastwood’s sole reason for making this film was so that he could once again shoot on location in Savannah, so that there would be trees with their hanging Spanish moss in the background.

So what about the plot bothered me so much?  Where do I start?

During the trial, the prosecution has an eye witness on the stand who positively identifies James as being at the scene where Kendall was killed.  The fact that Resnick, the defense attorney,  never questioned how that witness could identify James from a very long distance, at night, in a pouring rain, had me wondering if nobody involved in this movie ever watched My Cousin Vinny.  Later, when members of the jury discuss this glaringly obvious issue during deliberation, it’s collectively shrugged off as “it was the defense’s responsibility to bring that up at trial”.  Really?

Further evidence that the movie really doesn’t have anything to say about the inequities of being represented by a public defender comes when the Medical Examiner states conclusively that Kendall was killed by a blunt instrument and then thrown over the bridge.  I don’t know how he could make that determination, given that her head hit the rocks below pretty hard when she landed.  Apparently, Resnick doesn’t know what reasonable doubt means and barely questions that assessment.

I don’t blame Kiefer Sutherland for appearing in the cameo role of recovering alcoholic/defense attorney Larry Lasker.  Appearing in an Eastwood film was something he probably always wanted to do.  That aside, the behavior of his character makes no sense.  As a member of Alcoholics Anonymous, he would be very familiar with the 12 Steps, which include honesty (step 1), soul-searching (4) and integrity (5).  While advising Justin to do nothing and let James take the rap for his accident certainly is within bounds for a weasley defense attorney (see Saul Goodman), it goes against everything he would have professed over and over during AA meetings.  Yes, two sides of Lasker are in conflict with each other, but the movie doesn’t bother addressing this glaring contradiction.

The idea that Justin would go to prison if he came forward is far-fetched.  There were plenty of witnesses who could testify to the weather, and getting behind the wheel after having one drink is not a crime.

As a former detective, Harold (JK Simmons) certainly would know that he can’t play detective while sitting on a jury.  Why wouldn’t he just bring up his theory to the defense attorney, or even the judge?  Resnick’s defense certainly left much to be desired, so it makes perfect sense to give James a solid basis for an appeal.

The movie goes out of its way to make Marcus (a.k.a. Angry Black Male Juror) hate Justin.  Is it that big of a deal that Justin threw up after seeing some graphic crime scene photos?  Or that he wants to give James a fair shake despite his gang tattoos?  I have nothing against Cedric Yarbrough, the actor who plays Marcus, but the way the movie makes his character the villain is reprehensible.

Speaking of which, Justin had no problem throwing Harold under the bus.  So why did Justin knuckle under when Marcus threatened him?  Why doesn’t Justin simply go to the judge and ask either himself or Marcus to be removed?  Getting threatened by another juror seems like it would be worth mentioning.

The entire subplot about the DMV report is silly.  After Harold gets thrown off the jury for doing his own investigation, Killebrew (Toni Collette) decides to do it herself, even though she’s in the middle of a tough campaign for office that presumably would take up most of her time.  When she gets to the last entry and interviews a very jittery Ally, who obviously lies, Killebrew waves the white flag and quits.  Why did she bother riding around town for hours on end if she was ultimately going to drop the whole thing when it didn’t result in an obvious lead?  But all it takes to change her mind is Harold giving her conscience a little nudge outside the courthouse?  C’mon.

The scene where Justin fights telling Ally The Truth about What Happened was laughable.  She can’t be compelled to testify against him because she’s his wife.  Even a shady lawyer like Larry would be able to advise him on that aspect of the law.

In the year 2024, I’m surprised that movies still have roles for women where their only defining characteristic is being pregnant.  The movie only shows Ally laying on the couch worried about her pregnancy or projecting her anxiety onto Justin when he comes home.  The only worse female characterization in the movie is Adrienne C. Moore’s Yolanda, who only ever says “I gotta get home to my kids”.  (If you’re interested in what Moore can do with a real character, check her out in Orange is the New Black.)

The idea that there are tempestuous couples out there who get in angry fights in bars and then go home to work out their differences in bed made me laugh.  The “spiciness” of James and Kendall’s relationship seems written for grandmothers to titter over.

The screenplay for Juror #2 was written by Jonathan A. Abrams, who never had a screenplay produced before this movie.  Maybe Eastwood owed his family a favor.  I can only hope that his next movie, Destination Wedding, is better than this one.