Complex Juror an intriguing morality tale
Clint Eastwood is on firm ground with his latest fim, Juror #2, a film that requires a huge leap of faith, but once it’s established, the drama that plays out is on par with its most obvious antecedent, 12 Angry Men.
Nicholas Hoult takes on the titular role as Justin Kemp, a recovering alcoholic who’s attempting to get his life on track. His wife, Allison (Zoey Deutch), is expecting and as they settle into their new house, a sense of calm prevails. However, when Kemp is chosen for jury duty, his newfound peace begins to fray.
The trial he and his 11 peers preside over involves the brutal murder of a young woman (Francesca Eastwood). Found at the bottom of a ravine next to a rural stretch of road, her volatile boyfriend (Gabriel Basso) has been accused of killing her. The evidence is overwhelming, as they had a very public fight in a bar down the road. She was seen leaving the establishment by patrons, heading in the direction she was found, her boyfriend following her. Obviously, an open-and-shut-case.
However, as Kemp hears the details of the trial, a horrible suspicion arises within him. He realizes he was at the same bar at the time of the incident, witnessed the fight between the couple and left a few minutes later. Striking something with his car on the way home, he could find nothing when he got out to inspect the damage, ultimately assuming it was a deer that had run away. Now, he’s not so sure and feels he may have been responsible for the woman’s death.
As I say, the circumstances screenwriter Jonathan A. Abrams asks us to accept pushes our suspension of disbelief to its limit. However, the moral quandary that results is weighted with so many intriguing dramatic possibilities, we let it slide.
The trial moves quickly and once the jurors are left to deliberate, Kemp introduces elements of doubt where the defendant’s guilt is concerned. To be sure, they are self-serving, but they prompt worthy discussion between the jurors, some of them eventually coming around to Kemp’s way of thinking. Doubt is raised outside the courtroom as well, when the local district attorney, Faith Killebrew (Toni Collette), comes to realize perhaps the wrong man is on trial. Will she dig further to find the truth or, being up for reelection, just let things be? The possibility her office may be trying an innocent man is not a good look.
Kemp’s dilemma is an engrossing one. While his act was unintentional, should he come forward and run the risk of destroying his family? Yet, having the knowledge you let an innocent man go to jail is a psychological burden that would ultimately be too much to bear. Hoult’s fine work is essential here. Even though we may not agree with the choices Kemp makes, we still sympathize with him, the actor subtly showing the inner turmoil he’s wrestling with, drawing us to his corner.
Eastwood is no stranger to questioning our nation’s justice system, and it’s easy to see why this script appealed to him. The faults in our courts, as well as the players who manipulate them, are in his crosshairs, and it’s to his and Abrams’ credit that they provide no easy answers to these complex issues. Juror #2’s great strength is that it puts in the shoes of its protagonist, forcing us to ask what we might do in his situation. On the surface, the solution to Kemp’s dilemma seems plain; however, in a system in which justice is sometimes just so much collateral damage in upholding the law, there are no easy answers. Streaming on Max.
Weak 6888 fails to honor courageous women
The 6888th Central Postal Directory Battalion were faced with a seemingly impossible task. Dispatched to Glasgow, Scotland in February 1945, the 885 women in the group were charged with sorting and delivering a massive backlog of mail. It had been brought to the attention of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt that letters written by the loved ones of servicemen were not being delivered and missives from troops were not reaching home. This contributed to low morale in the soldiers while causing undue stress and worry for their families and friends.
Upon arrival, the women and their commanding officer, Captain Charity Adams, were shown airplane hangars filled with rotting mailbags, some of the letters and packages within having sat there for over two years. In total, it was estimated there were 17 million pieces of mail. Some had only first names as the addressee, others simply had nicknames. Envelopes with troops’ I.D. numbers and nothing else were found, while multiple missives with common names like “John Smith” only added to the confusion.
The all-Black battalion was set up for failure. Having to endure multiple incidents of overt racism, they were forced to work in a dilapidated old school that had no heat or adequate quarters. They were told they had six months to complete this seemingly impossible task. They finished it in less than 90 days.
This is a fantastic story and deserves a worthy film be made of it. Unfortunately, Tyler Perry’s The Six Triple Eight isn’t it. Mawkish and heavy-handed, the movie is a throwback to the simplistic fact-based features made in the 1930’s and 40’s, those in which the characters are drawn in broad strokes and the sentiment is applied with a trowel. There isn’t a moment in the movie that isn’t telegraphed or handled with tact, while some questionable choices come off as ridiculous rather than poignant.
Taking a page from Schindler’s List, Perry begins the film with a blood-stained letter being taken off the body of a dying pilot in San Pietro, Italy in December of 1943. This envelope is the throughline of the movie, as we will see it travel, get mislaid and finally discovered amidst the millions of other pieces of mail logjammed in Western Europe. It’s been written by Abram David (Gregg Sulkin), a young Jewish pilot who has penned the letter to his girlfriend, Lena King (Ebony Obsidian), back in Bloomfield, Pennsylvania. He dies in action and, of course, she never gets the letter. She eventually joins the Army, only to be assigned to the 6888th. Guess who finds the letter in a rundown Scottish school over two years later?
Again, this approach may have worked in a WW II propaganda film, but it just doesn’t hold water here. Neither do the broadly drawn characters, nor a ham-fisted approach to the romance between King and David. Scenes in which he appears in hallucinations to her during moments of intense stress come off as laughable. The sentiment produced in these scenes is on par with what you might expect from over-earnest actors in a high school play.
To be sure, Perry’s intentions are sound, as all these women endured and their incredible accomplishments should be recognized. However, this broad, simplistic approach does them a disservice. The lack of genuine sentiment in The Six Triple Eight results in a weak tribute to the women who pulled off a Herculean task. Streaming on Netflix.
Fire not just another fight film
Claressa “T-Rex” Sheilds is a trailblazer you probably never heard of. The only boxer to win a gold medal in consecutive Olympic Games, she advocated for other female fighters, demanding they have the same opportunities, facilities and endorsements as their male counterparts. In some ways, it’s a fight she’s still fighting today.
Rachel Morrison’s The Fire Inside charts Shields’ rise through the ranks of amateur boxing as well as her struggles to get the recognition due her and her peers. Sporting a ragged aesthetic and raw performances, there’s a grit to the film that serves it well, a reflection of the tattered environment Shields came from as well her take-no-prisoners approach to life.
From an early age, Shields (Ryan Destiny) displays a desire to escape. Though not welcome at a local gym, she persists in showing up, hoping to get boxing lessons. Coach Jason Crutchfield (Brian Tyree Henry) takes pity on her, giving her a few pointers but in the process recognizes that she may have potential. Nurturing this, he develops her into a formidable fighter who shows her mettle at the 2012 National Championship. At 16, she defeated the 31-year-old champion.
For the most part, screenwriter Barry Jenkins succeeds in injecting a bit of life into the sports film formula. Obviously, sequences devoted to arduous training and decisive victories are inescapable, but those are effectively balanced with scenes devoted to Shields’ troubling home life. From a broken family in Flint, Michigan, she was sexually abused at a young age, her negligent mother more of a child than she. In some ways, her success makes things worse as her mother begins to lean on her financially, as do her younger siblings, her teen sister giving birth at 15.
The burden of having to support them all only exacerbates her frustration. Though Crutchfield assures her that endorsement deals will be waiting for her when she emerges from the 2012 Olympics, all she finds are cold shoulders from would-be supporters. While the coach has the best of intentions, he simply does not have the connections necessary to get Nike, Adidas and their rivals’ attention. What emerges is a story focused more on social injustice rather than sports cliches, and the film is better for it as her fight for equal footing outside the ring becomes the narrative catalyst.
In the end, the sense of realism created by Destiny and Henry’s fine performances, Jenkins’ unsentimental approach and Morrison’s drab, unadorned mise en scene, is what separates Fire from other genre entries. Far more than a Rocky rip-off, this gives us a complete picture of all Shields has to contend with, her greatest fights being those outside the ring against a foe far greater than just another up-and-coming fighter. In theaters Dec. 25
This article appears in Springfield Clinic disrupts area health care industry.
