How to Do the Right Thing: A Review of JUROR #2

*** out of ****

On a talk show in the mid-‘70s, Orson Welles was asked who was the finest American filmmaker of that moment. His response: Clint Eastwood. This remark astonished me because there was so many masters working in that time and I suppose I had saddled Clint off to the side, not really taking him seriously because of his gruff, tough-guy persona in his Westerns. Also, the first films directed by Eastwood I saw were from his curiously award-winning, but aesthetically lean years of manipulative tear-jerkers like Mystic River and Million Dollar Baby. But, In the last several years, Eastwood has continued entertaining and asking big questions in quiet, mannered movies about everyday people, the best example of this was 2019’s Richard Jewell, an underrated biopic about an average American man wronged.

His latest film, Juror # 2, is a film whose principal theme is justice—all of its ins and outs, especially doing the right thing when it’s impossible. People don’t make movies about justice, honor, or duty anymore. But Eastwood does—with little judgement and even less sentimentality.

It is surprising that Juror # 2 is not based on some legal potboiler novel of the John Grisham variety. Often those properties turn out much better films than they do books, and they are often like this film: suspenseful, dramatic, set in some sultry Southern courtroom. Alas, the film uses an original screenplay by Jonathan Abrams, set in Georgia a few years ago, and concerns journalist (and recovered alcoholic) Justin Kemp (Nicholas Hoult) as he succumbs to jury duty on a case in which he is deeply and ironically involved.

At home, his life is quiet, contemplative. He and his wife are at the tail-end of a high-risk pregnancy (after already failing in a past attempt) and not even this fact sways the judge against his being able to serve. It is to walk a delicate tight-rope to say much more regarding the plot (even though the secret is revealed early on), so it will suffice to say the case is prosecuted by an appropriately accented and always professional Toni Colette and the defense is headed by Chris Messina (who gave the best performance in Air from 2023 and is equally marvelous here). J. K. Simmons appears in a small part as a juror who begins doing his own investigation (no one ever asked if he was a cop) and Kemp is most certainly doing not only investigative work, but deep soul searching.

Familiar faces that appear include Kiefer Sutherland in a somewhat thankless part that sort of fizzles out in terms of importance. This is always the tasking part of watching an Eastwood film. Making films the way he does (usually only filming one shot so he can get to the golf club before it closes), he has never been particularly good at trimming the fat in his movies. They have a lackadaisical feel in their pace, and yet, because Juror # 2 has the requisite thrills and moments of suspense that justly accompany a legal thriller, these minor hiccups are forgivable.

Eastwood brilliantly directs the various versions of the inciting incident to the murder by being true to what is being said by whoever is on the witness stand. By not showing off much at all, his camera is surprisingly effective in the genre though the film is not really about a trial; it’s about doing the right thing, sometimes the hardest act one can accomplish.

Perhaps Juror # 2 will be counted among Eastwood’s more minor pictures, but it is a good one, built with good bones in its structure and with strong performances of grounded, realistic characters. It is currently streaming on Max.

Juror # 2

Warner Bros. Pictures, Dichotomy Films, Malpaso Productions

Nicholas Hoult as Justin Kemp

Toni Collette as Faith Killebrew

J. K. Simmons as Harold Chicowski

Chris Messina as Eric Resnick

Zoey Deutch as Allison “Ally” Crewson

Kiefer Sutherland as Larry Lasker

Directed by Clint Eastwood

Screenplay by Jonathan Abrams

Produced by Clint Eastwood, Tim Moore, Jessica Meier, Adam Goodman, and Matt Skiena

Photography Yves Bélanger

Edited by Joel and David Cox

Music Composed by Mark Mancina

Lost Classics: Hitchcock's MARNIE

I must admit I’m late having an interest in the work of Alfred Hitchcock. Perhaps the most famous (along with Chaplin) of all British filmmakers, and certainly the most prolific, I have memories of enjoying the melodramatic hijinks of Alfred Hitchcock Presents on Nick at Nite when I was young, but when I first saw Psycho in a film appreciation course in high school, I was extremely disappointed. I didn’t like horror movies, but I did admire psychological thrillers, and it was my estimation, at the wise old age of sixteen, that black-and-white movies just can’t possibly scare or thrill you because they’re old and had censorship, etc.

MARNIE.

This was, of course, complete balderdash and a film course in college showed me the magnificence of black-and-white film: how they really are uberfilms; they are somehow on a higher plane above our modern cinema because of the magical, myriad ways directors could play with light, shadow, fog, tension. Black-and-white movies, specially made by skilled technicians such as Hitchcock, seem as dazzling today as they must have been in their time thanks to film restorationists. I preferred his Notorious to Psycho, which (though it has its moments) still seems to show its cheapness—not just technically, but in the overextended denouement when Norman’s condition is explained like a printout from WebMD. And, although this is partially the point of the film, it is a claustrophobic picture and shows nothing of what Hitchcock could do with expansiveness such as in North by Northwest.

However, I am what I am and, for some odd reason, it seems I was born to do the opposite of what you’re supposed to do when studying an artist. Most people seek out the acknowledged masterpieces, the blockbuster hits. If it’s Shakespeare, you read Hamlet. If it’s Altman, you watch Nashville, etc. But I am enamored of failures because I’ve found you can learn a lot more from them than masterpieces. I could be wrong (this reasoning may be what has kept me from entering another plane in my writing life; who knows?)

FAMILY PLOT.

At any rate, while I had a subscription to The Criterion Channel, I watched Hitch’s final film Family Plot. Reading the contemporaneous reviews, you can tell the critics are tired of the old man—had consigned him to the pasture. Critics love to prop up someone then tear them down. C’est la vie. However, I found it to have moments of greatness that were completely overlooked. It is not a great picture, but it has great moments, such as the car (with its brakes cut) racing down a dusty mountain road with no railing. Being a critic, I am not usually caught up rapturously in movies anymore because I’ve seen so many. It takes something really special to make my cinematic heart go aflutter. But watching Family Plot, I could barely breathe during that car scene, holding onto the sofa for dear life. That is true talent and so, every now and again, I explore more and more of Hitch’s “failures” when I have the time to give them their due attention.

Back off, Hitch.

Everything superficial about his 1961 film Marnie is boring. The title is boring. The period and setting are not particularly interesting. The colors somehow not as vivid as they should be. Tippi Hedren is not exactly the greatest actress in the world (her daughter Melanie Griffith inherited this dominant trait). But there are depths to the film that make it absolutely fascinating to watch, so I thought I’d jot some notes, dusting off this old lost classic that has finally begun to receive appreciation in the last decade or so. That is ironic since we have learned of Hitch’s sexual harassment of Hedren toward the end of the shooting of Marnie (Hedren has gone back and forth in print and interviews as to whether it was during Marnie or The Birds), But that, in itself is even more highly ironical given some of the scenes in a film about men, women, and the specific mistrust of one and self-hatred of the other.

PSYCHO.

The film opens with long tracking shots that look as if they were filmed yesterday except for the ‘50s fashions. We follow a female con artist (eg. Janet Leigh in Psycho except this is Marnie’s “profession”) from brown to red to blonde hair and from secretarial job to secretarial job as she assumes different identities and gains access to the safes of each institution she’s employed. Marnie is refreshing in these early scenes because she seems confident, sure of herself, not rattled by much. Oh, except for the fact that every time she sees the color red and/or experiences a thunderstorm, she is driven to paroxysms of histrionics. She is also tortured in her sleep by a vague nightmare which, later on, turns out to be a (it was the ‘50s and psychiatrists were particularly stupid in those days, so I’ll give it a pass) “repressed” memory of an actual event of childhood trauma.

Eventually, a slick Sean Connery in his first role following his christening as James Bond, Marnie is caught. Not like “the jig is up” caught. More like “Christina Ricci in Black Snake Moan” caught. Connery decides that something is pathologically wrong with Marnie and, as he caught her in a honeypot trap, she has very few options to get out of her criminal past. But Connery offers one: “Marry me, we’re going to see a psychiatrist and get you sorted out.” Yes, I know what you’re thinking and yes, his actions are pathological in themselves. I suppose that’s what makes Marnie interesting: another war of the sexes that probes masculinity and femininity and also (that tired word) power in deeply honest ways.

Connery’s scheme does not go well. While they initially had been flirtatious prior to his discovery of her true self, now feeling trapped. Something snaps in Marnie leading to proper (and even moving) climax that makes the ending of Psycho look weak as (shower) water as we discover what is wrong with Marnie, what her mother has to do with it, and why all those red flashes in the first place?

Marnie was derided upon its release, though it has had its defenders. I’m a defender. While there is a certain frame of mind you must be in to enjoy its pleasures (pretending that Connery’s actions are not completely objectionable (especially in a salacious scene from the honeymoon sequence), you can find them. While Hedren’s acting lacks and sometimes her monotonous voice sounds like it’s being amplified out of an old telephone, perhaps by a naturally nasal tone, she makes a fine scream queen in the moments of dissociation and she does keep you guessing as to Marnie’s intentions, conscious or unconscious. If you can get passed his opening scene where he is animated by seemingly Kabuki makeup, Connery’s performance is driven, suave, and even intelligent in its own limited way. It also has the funniest (and most sneaky”) of Hitch’s signature cameos.

Allen, with Hitch.

Based on Winston Graham’s 1961 novel, Hitchcock chose as his writer the female Jay Presson Allen (Funny Lady, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie) after a long line of authors took a stab at it. It is appropriate that a woman wrote the film as it does indeed have very sensitive scenes that require a woman’s voice. Oddly enough, the scene (again) of which I must not speak was the reason the previous writer had been fired. He didn’t want to include it; Hitch did.

Perhaps I’m lonesome out here on the prairie with the few other appreciators, but it is not every film that makes you sit up and pay attention, that makes you think and wonder and dream and makes you rethink your own biases and prejudices. Check out Marnie. I bid the Master, “Good evening.”

2024 in Perspective

Greetings, readers! I hope you all had a nice holiday season and are as ready for the New Year as I am.

2024 was both challenging and exciting. It also zipped by so fast I had to use my Facebook feed to remind me of some of my activities. (The Facebook page has just reached 300 admirers—thank you all; tell your friends!) As far as plays are concerned, I was elated to receive feedback from members of the Homewood Theatre Writing Circle on two full-length plays, Jeroboam (a large-scale reimagination of a work of Edgar Allan Poe’s) and There Will Always Be a Fire as well as a devious little, short piece called Thrush. At the beginning of the year, I was clearly in poetry mode, cranking out some poems for someone called Madeline. The muses come and go so quickly here, said Alice.

The blog has certainly been a healthy addition to my writing life. Writing every week has been exhilarating, from filing reviews of films and television shows as well as local theatre productions in Birmingham, Alabama. Some of the troupes might have been happier than others, but I loved supporting live theatre and providing back what I hope is intelligent commentary that would elevate the discourse in a town where theatre is an afterthought. There were also a couple of blog pieces earlier this year on the daycare sex abuse hysteria of the ’80s-‘90s that, along with the theatre reviews, have had a high level of readership! Writing non-fiction strengthens my critical eye and always keeps you grounded in your own voice.

It was not all a year of winners, however. Eldridge Plays and Musicals decided to cease publication and licensing of my Pocahontas play, Cry of the Native Children. In the over-a-decade period it was in circulation, it failed to garner productions mainly due to the ginormous size of men required for the cast. But it can’t get me down. Watching Native Children grow from an idea into a production was one of the happiest moments of my writing life. The fact that it was published at all was a great honor. Speaking of which, we may see some publications in the coming year…Stay tuned!

Alas I only got a meager, brief vacation down to Destin, Florida earlier in the year before everything got wild, but Florida in Winter (even if just a taste) is glorious with its epic skies and lack of people.

As always, I continued reading a play every day this year, concentrating especially on musical and theatre libretti as well as screenplays and teleplays. In addition, I got my first reading of Herman Melville’s masterpiece Moby-Dick, or The Whale under my belt. Reading the classics is another sure-fire way of keeping in touch with the grand tradition of American writing.

As always, I include a tribute below to the people who have passed away who meant something to me. Here’s to a great New Year to you all!

Actors

Dabney Coleman was a genius at slapstick comedy as he showed in childhood favorites of mine like Hot to Trot, The Beverly Hillbillies, and 9 to 5.

Shelley Duvall was a quirky actress whose performances includes roles in Robert Altman’s masterpiece 3 Women (and his turkey Popeye) and Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. She also produced many projects for children when I was growing up, including the classic program Mother Goose Rock ‘n’ Rhyme.

Joe Flaherty was a face known well to kids of my generation for cameo roles in Back to the Future Part II and Sesame Street Presents Follow That Bird, but he was also known for his role in Freaks and Geeks and as a cast member of SCTV.

Teri Garr, the beguiling star of Tootsie and Young Frankenstein, whose interviews with an infatuated David Letterman, became hallmarks of great TV banter during his Late Night years.

Mitzi Gaynor, a name familiar to most from mid-century Hollywood, was well known for playing Nellie Forbush in the misguided film adaptation of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific.

Louis Gossett, Jr. was an actor of the very highest order, winning an Oscar for An Officer and a Gentleman and an Emmy for Roots, but his stage work was also highly admired.

Glynis Johns is known to most Disneyfiles as the mother of the Banks children in Mary Poppins, but she also was the original star of Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler’s A Little Night Music, where her silvery, breathy voice inspired Sondheim’s biggest hit, “Send in the Clowns.”

James Earl Jones has too many roles for which he was someone’s idol, from voicing Darth Vadar to Mufasa to an extraordinary performance in the film and stage revival of Alfred Uhry’s Driving Miss Daisy to a stage career that included the original production of August Wilson’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Fences. A blinding, brilliant light in the world.

Martin Mull was both an adept comedian and comic actor. For those my age, he is most associated with his Col. Mustard in Jonathan Lynn’s Clue and as a hapless boss on Roseanne.

Ken Page was well known with Broadway properties, including the revue Ain’t Misbehavin’ and as Broadway’s first Old Deuteronomy in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats. He also voiced the role of the villain Oogie-Boogie in The Nightmare Before Christmas.

A ten-time Tony-nominee, Chita Rivera was a legend of the musical stage, including her appearances in important roles in West Side Story, Chicago, and Kiss of the Spider Woman.

Gena Rowlands was perhaps the best and least appreciated actress in American film. Her work in her husband John Cassavettes’ indie films is her best work, though she connected with newer audiences in the big screen adaptation of Nicholas Sparks’ The Notebook.

While John Savident was well known in the UK as a star of soap operas, he also appeared in the original West End run of The Phantom of the Opera and appeared on film in A Clockwork Orange, Gandhi, and The Remains of the Day.

Dame Maggie Smith was a legend of every medium in which she played. A keen performer of Shakespeare , she was also a strong and thoughtful presence on both the large and small screens, giving commanding performances in everything from the Harry Potter film series to the film version of Neil Simon’s California Suite.

Donald Sutherland was a great countercultural presence in the 1970s playing acerbic and transgressive roles in National Lampoon’s Animal House as well as the film version of M*A*S*H, and continued to deliver masterful performances throughout his long career, including in Oliver Stone’s JFK and the adaptation of John Guare’s hit play Six Degrees of Separation.

M. Emmet Walsh was a familiar face onscreen even if you didn’t know the name, giving strong performances in The Jerk, Blade Runner, Blood Simple, and Knives Out among many others.

Carl Weathers was a well-known action star in the ‘80s, including taking on a famous role in the Rocky films, but his comeback as himself in Arrested Development was a hilarious touch of brilliance.

Comedians

I would argue more comedians stole from James Gregory than you could shake a stick at and yet he never achieved the success of other Southern comedians in his lifetime. Nevertheless, when he was alive, he was “The Funniest Man in America.”

The self-deprecating Richard Lewis composed symphonies of neurotica for his audiences as a comic and stood out in many film and TV comedies, including Mel Brooks’ Robin Hood: Men in Tights and Larry David’s Curb Your Enthusiasm.

The last of a dying breed, Bob Newhart was a hysterical comedian with two hit television series to his name as well as so many bits (most preserved on audio) such as his first-night security guard the night King Kong scaled the Empire State Building. Bye, Bob.

Writers

Marshall Brickman’s work with Woody Allen propelled Allen into more mature territory in their screenplays for Annie Hall and Manhattan. Before Brickman, Allen made funny movies. Afterwards, he made movies that made you think.

Frederick Crews was a major voice fighting in the wilderness during the “Freud Wars” of the 1980s when sober and intelligent folks railed against therapists reopening Freud’s most dusty and debilitating ideas and using them in horrifying ways, often destroying individuals and families. A warrior of intelligence.

Nikki Giovanni’s political poems may be her most well-known, but she was equally adept at universal themes and always brought a trademark play and wit to her verse.

Robert Towne crafted Chinatown, one of the finest screenplays ever to have been made. ‘Nuff said.

Producers

The younger brother of actress Angela, Edgar Lansbury was a producer with credits that included The Subject was Roses, Promenade, American Buffalo, and the revival of Gypsy starring his sister in a career-defining role.

Albert S. Ruddy produced Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather, the greatest linear, narrative film ever made.

Directors

Ofra Bikel was a documentarian (whose best work was for PBS’ Frontline) who kept a cool head during moments of mass hysteria as evidenced in her masterworks The Case for Innocence, The Search for Satan, Divided Memories, and the Innocence Lost trilogy.

Eleanor Coppola’s major contribution to the world was a fly-on-the-wall documentary, Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse, that chronicled her husband’s nightmare production on Apocalypse Now. A documentary on the same level as the film that inspired it.

Roger Corman was much more than a producer of B-movie schlock—he also took many future directors under his wing and gave them their first jobs, from Peter Bogdanovich to Martin Scorsese.

Norman Jewison was a master of adapting stage properties to film, including Charles Fuller’s A Soldier’s Story (based on A Soldier’s Play), Jesus Christ Superstar, and the magnificent Fiddler on the Roof, but he was also known as the director for the film version of In the Heat of the Night, a perpetually powerful film.

Morgan Spurlock was a documentarian of the Michael Moore-ish variety in that he was often the subject of his documentaries. At a certain time, his Super Size Me was one of the most famous documentaries in the world.

Singers/Musicians

The greatest musician my father ever saw live was the Allman Brothers Band’s Dickey Betts, an old-fashioned country/western guitar-smith, the likes of which we may never see again.

While noted as a proffer of soft, soft (soft) rock from the 1980’s, Eric Carmen is on this list for his performance on Dirty Dancing’s “Hungry Eyes,” a glorious staple of ‘80s pop.

The 1960s were the best decade for pop music because of songwriters like Jerry Fuller, who gave us Rick Nelson’s “Travelin’ Man,” and Gary Puckett & The Union Gap’s “Young Girl” and “Lady Willpower.”

Toby Keith, in his later life, was most closely associated with post-9/11 paranoia and the “Tea Party,” but in his early years, he recorded fun (and funny) country songs like “Should’ve Been a Cowboy” and “How Do You Like Me Now?!”

Composers/Songwriters

Kris Kristofferson could equally be given a place under actors and singers above, but his great gift to the world was his songwriting that introduced us to marvels like “Me and Bobby McGee” and “Help Me Make It Through the Night.”

It is people like Quincy Jones that make you realize how little you’ve done with your life. After all, the man was known for dozens of pop arrangements, film scores, and his career-defining work with Michael Jackson, resulting in Thriller and Bad.

Will Jennings wrote the lyric for Howard Shore’s “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic. While the lyrics are the purplest of purple, that song was the love song of the late ‘90s and, therefore, I danced more in my life to this song in high school than I ever have danced to anything.

Dave Loggins was a tremendous soft-rock songwriter, his best song being “Please Come to Boston,” which exists in his perfect recording and also and David Allan Coe’s.

Richard M. Sherman, the brother of Robert B. Sherman, was a Disney legend, cranking out tunes and words with his brother for some of the most famous films of all time, including Mary Poppins and some underrated gems (like The Happiest Millionaire).

Playwrights

Abdullah Al-Saadawi (Bahrain)

Tengai Amano (Japan)

Russell Atkins (USA)

Aziza Barnes (USA)

Jean Battlo (USA)

Michael Bawtree (Canada)

Alioune Badara Bèye (Senegal)

Edward Bond (UK), one of the original angry young men of the British theatre, shocked the world with Saved.

Nora Vagi Brash (Papua New Guinea)

Walter van den Broeck (Belgium)

Robert Cohen (USA)

Maryse Condé (France)

Roberto Cossa (Argentina)

Keith Curran (USA)

Christopher Durang (USA) was America’s major satirical playwright with works such as Beyond Therapy and Sister Mary Ignatius Explains it All for You.

Joan Holden (USA)

Gary Indiana (USA)

Gylan Kain (USA)

Jūrō Kara (Japan)

Jack Hibberd (Australia)

Kim Min-ki (South Korea)

Charles Juliet (France)

Ray Lawler (Australia)

Margot Lemire (Canada)

Antonette Mendes (India)

Neil McCafferty (Ireland)

Roy Minton (UK)

Manoj Mitra (India)

Enzo Moscato (Italy)

Wole Oguntokun (Nigeria)

Omchery N. N. Pillai (India)

Hans Plomp (Netherlands)

René Pollesch (Germany)

Armando Pugliese (Italy)

Orlando Rossardi (Cuba)

Odd Selmer (Norway)

Jimi Solanke (Nigeria)

John Waiko (Papua New Guinea)

Don Webb (UK)

Samm-Art Williams (USA)

Shaukat Zaidi (Pakistan)