Clint Eastwood's latest and perhaps last, and what a way to go; things have generally not been great since Gran Torino back in 2008 and this continues the downward slide. He directed and co-produced a script by Jonathan A. Abrams. The vibe was that he's too sapient a filmmaker to have merely remade 12 Angry Men, and for the most part he didn't. Unfortunately it's a fair bit lamer than that.
We start with reformed alcoholic, soon-to-be-Juror #2 Nicholas Hoult homemaking with heavily-pregnant Zoey Deutch. (She doesn't move like a pregnant woman, and this lack of attention to detail is pervasive.) Soon enough we meet Toni Collette's prosecutor running for District Attorney and her bar buddy/public defender Chris Messina. Kiefer Sutherland slots in as Hoult's AA sponsor and lawyer. The plot has a bloke (Gabriel Basso) up for offing his unstable and needy girlfriend (Francesca Eastwood) on what is never very convincing evidence. The rest is in the title.
By the middle things are seriously awry. Collette is out doing police detective's work (why would she ever want to know?) and, unlike its famous predecessor, few of the twelve jurors receive any character development. There are repeated and flagrant rule violations. The motivation for the hasty let-him-hang verdict is that almost everyone wants to get it done and go home, but a few days later half are sceptical until all are not. This most interesting aspect — how opinions change — is almost entirely elided and deeply implausible. Things generally do not fit together.
I did not like the cast at all with the mild exceptions of Collette and Messina who are both far better elsewhere. Hoult is struggling to bust out of the Marvel Cinematic Universe; he is no better here than he was in The Menu.
At this point it's probably more interesting to see how Eastwood engages with Trump's manifest lack of essential Eastwood qualities.
