Having reached what could be his last film, the 94-year-old Eastwood puts on the screen a clear and crystalline cinema populated by the opaque, twisted and ambiguous positions of his protagonists. And we talk about justice and truth, ethics and morality, politics and humanity. The review of Juror Number 2 by Federico Gironi.
Just a few days ago I was showing Daughter Number 2 my favorite courtroom movie, which is Code of honor. It was the first time she had seen a film set in a courtroom and I had to explain a few things to her, including the presence and functioning of a jury. Which for us, in fact, is always a bit strange. Twelve ordinary, normal people, just like you, who on the basis of what is said in the courtroom by the prosecution, defense and witnesses must decide the fate of another, just like you.
At a certain point, in the new film by Clint Eastwoodwhich with a curious similarity to my daughter is called Juror number 2There are Toni Collette e Chris Messinathat is, the prosecution and defense of the trial in question, who in front of the counter of a great bar and two glasses of bourbon, say something like: “what we have may not be the best judicial system in the world, but it is the ours and we must protect it.”
Which on the one hand will be true, and on the other not: in the sense that what it does Eastwood in this film it is (also) to reflect – more from the point of view of practice, rather than of the system – on the fact that twelve people just like you, for better or for worse, fallible and less fallible, complex, human, must decide of the fate of someone just like you, complex, human, on the basis of what other people just like you, complex, human, fallible, say to accuse or defend him. Because what he does Eastwood in this film it is (also) to put the finger in the wound of justice precisely because that justice is his anyway, and he wants to protect it.
E the extraordinary thing, one of many, to tell the truth, is to see how, in the complexity of the discourse, Eastwood manages to speak without ever losing his balance, or sounding preachy, or undermining the thriller dimension of the film, about the judicial system as much as of truth, ethics and morality; of politics as well as of humanity.
Even the plot of Juror Number 2 it is simple and complex, linear and articulated, at the same time. The protagonist is Justin (a Nicholas Hoult increasingly a lanky version of the young Tom Cruise), exemplary husband and journalist on a local magazine – we are in Savannah, Georgia – who is about to have a child with his wife. It’s almost time for the birth, and the situation is delicate because in the past there have been unfinished pregnancies, and Justin, who would like to stay at home with her, is called to be a juror in the trial of one of his peers accused of killing his wife. his girlfriend after an argument. The real problem, however, is that, once the trial has begun, Justin understands that he has more to do with that case than he wants and is allowed to do, and a new feeling is born in him. complex and lacerating moral dilemmawhich will lead him to decide whether to act as a member of the jury according to trajectories of personal interest or adherence to ideas of justice and truth (which however do not always seem to be exactly the same thing).
From a certain point on, Justin’s moral dilemma begins to be associated with that of the public prosecutor Toni Collettewho as a firm accuser of the accused – also because winning that trial is a fundamental step for her to be elected district attorney – begins to doubt her own beliefs, and to glimpse other truths.
The point, however, is that it is not these two characters – destined to meet and confront each other verbally in the final part of the film, and who are entrusted with an ending that could only be open to any interpretation – who show ethical complexities, and above all to have behaviors that are driven by a lethal mixture in which personal interest is masked and intertwined with professional or moral beliefs.
The point is, to put it simply, in Juror number 2 the cleanest one has trouble, that same trouble that more or less all of us have: in the sense that – with the notable exception of those who are (already) guilty – there is no character who, in any measure, do not subordinate what is right to what is convenient.
Justin does it, sure, but so will his very innocent wife (and in doing so, Eastwood also puts the family institution in his sights); it’s done by the juror who wants to decide quickly, be that as it may, because she has to go home to her children, just as Justin’s sponsor of Alcoholics Anonymous does. And if the accused in the trial is perhaps innocent, he certainly has plenty of guilt to atone for.
Ninety-four years old of extraordinary lucidity, Clint Eastwood puts on the screen a cinema that is all the clearer and more crystalline, all the more direct and evident, the more opaque, contorted and ambiguous the positions of all the characters that populate the shots are.. So viewand therefore comprehendand therefore getting as close as possible to what is an objective and existing truth, is an arduous task.
Justice is blindfolded, but blindfolded – as Eastwood tells us from the very first image of the film – we are all a bit blindfolded: by ourselves, by someone else, by some convenience. Why turning your gaze (which is the original sin of Justin’s character), choosing not to see, is the easiest thing. And therefore the most wrong.
A reflection on the gaze and on seeing of absolute modernity in the context of a formal structure that cannot be more classic: another of the extraordinary things about this film which is also scorching political current affairs in its stubborn assertion of the moral urgency of the pursuit of the truth. Because too much and for too long the truth has been subordinated to a justice that is always personal, subjective, the result of some interest, perhaps even collective. Maybe even, paradoxically, healthy and shareable.
And if all this, everything that has been talked about so far, Eastwood does it without missing a shot, a shot, an editing cut, a secondary character, a narrative detail, without ever losing sight of another urgency, which it’s that of suspense and entertainment for the spectator, well: I really don’t know what else you could ask of him, of this perhaps his last film, and of all cinema.
The Complexity of Justice in Clint Eastwood’s ‘Juror Number 2’
Ah, Clint Eastwood. You know, it’s not every day you get a 94-year-old cinematic icon tackling the intricacies of morality, ethics, and the ultimate conundrum: jury duty! Yes, trust Eastwood to take a simple premise and wrap it in so many layers of complexity that you’d think he was trying to assemble IKEA furniture. The man could teach a masterclass on how the mundane can become art—squabbling over shoelaces? That’s a thriller now, my friends.
So, let’s dive into ‘Juror Number 2’, shall we? Spoiler alert: it’s not just about a bloke in the courtroom wearing a name tag, and for crying out loud, it’s not a sequel to ‘Jurassic Park’ despite the roaring dilemmas concerning personal justice. This isn’t a film that gives you all the answers right off the bat—instead, it offers a buffet of moral ambiguity. How quaint! This is basically Eastwood saying, “Welcome to the courtroom! Order whatever ethical dilemma you fancy!”
Our protagonist, Justin—played by the ever-lanky Nicholas Hoult—finds himself at the heart of a murder trial, which is just the kind of thing you want to deal with when preparing for fatherhood. The poor guy probably thought he was signing up for a bit of jury duty, perhaps some mildly entertaining daytime soap opera-like verdicts, and instead, it’s like he stumbled into a reality show titled ‘Who Wants to Confess a Crime?’. And just like that, his world gets flipped upside down. Quite like realizing that the roast chicken you thought was meant for dinner is actually the centerpiece of a family argument.
And here’s where that delicious complexity rears its head. By the time Justin’s trial starts, he realizes he has a personal connection to the case—a delightful twist that casts his notions of justice and truth into chaos. Suddenly, he’s not just here for a slice of courtroom drama; he’s stuck in a moral quagmire that would make even a seasoned philosopher break into a cold sweat. Should he toe the line of duty or indulge in those little whispers of self-interest? And before you know it, you’re on the edge of your seat, snack in hand, contemplating your own life choices—and whether it’s too late to return that garden gnome you never wanted.
Oh, and let’s not forget about the ever-complex Toni Collette, who plays the prosecutor determined to climb the political ladder. She’s got her own share of dilemmas—after all, who knew climbing to the top came with a side of “what if I’m wrong?” – a universal struggle that could make even a superhero reconsider donning the cape. Just imagine her at home searching Google for “How to balance ethics and ambition”—not exactly a light read!
Eastwood crafts a narrative that meanders through these turbulent waters of human judgment with the grace of a ballet dancer—if that dancer was also regrettably stuck in a quagmire of their own making. He manages to directly challenge the audience, inviting us to contemplate where we draw the line between what’s right and what’s beneficial. In that respect, Eastwood’s cinema becomes a mirror—albeit a slightly cracked one, where our own faces are distorted but recognizably ours.
As we wobble through this moral tightrope, one can’t help but feel the pulse of a larger conversation: the ethics of our systems—be it the judicial, political, or even the philosophical. Eastwood, like a wise old sage plopped down in front of a green screen, questions the very foundation of our notions of truth and justice. “Is it really blind?” he asks, as we malfunction our way through emotive plot points that keep us guessing about the characters’ true intentions. If you think this is just a straightforward courtroom drama, you might need to rejig that perspective before the verdict is in!
What truly astounds is Eastwood’s ability to balance all of this heavy lifting while wrapping it in a package of suspense and entertainment. He’s basically throwing down the gauntlet and saying, “Here, take a good look and try not to squint!” And if you find yourself squinting through the layers of complexity, don’t worry—he actually wants that. Because, just like in real life, the truth is often obscured. And maybe, just maybe, it’s not just the characters who are blindfolded; perhaps you are too, dear viewer.
As the credits roll on what may be Eastwood’s swan song, it’s a riveting reminder that justice, morality, and humanity are never black and white but awash in a palette of greys. So, gear up, folks! If you haven’t already, grab your popcorn, settle in, and take a long, hard look at what Eastwood is showing you through his scintillating lens. Who knew a courtroom could be so thrilling? And more importantly, who knew reflecting on complex moral dilemmas would feel so darn entertaining? Cheers to Clint Eastwood—the aging miracle still crafting stories that pack a punch, even as time tries to wrap him in a cozy blanket of nostalgia.
At 94, Clint Eastwood presents what may be his final cinematic masterpiece, delivering a film that captures the essence of clear and crystalline storytelling, set against a backdrop of morally ambiguous and complex characters. In this poignant narrative, themes of justice and truth, ethics and morality, as well as politics and humanity are explored with profound depth. This review of “Juror Number 2” is penned by Federico Gironi.
Just a few days ago, I introduced my daughter to my all-time favorite courtroom thriller, Code of Honor. It was her inaugural experience with a courtroom drama, and I found myself explaining the intricacies of jury duty to her. This unique aspect of our legal system—where twelve everyday individuals, much like us, are tasked with determining the fate of another person based solely on the arguments presented in court—struck me as particularly fascinating. At a pivotal moment in Eastwood’s new film, aptly titled Juror Number 2, we witness the characters played by Toni Collette and Chris Messina engage in a compelling conversation over bourbon at a bustling bar. They assert, “What we have may not be the best judicial system in the world, but it is ours, and we must protect it.” This sentiment rings true on multiple levels, encapsulating both the strengths and weaknesses of our system.
In this film, Eastwood artfully examines the notion that these twelve jurors—fallible and multifaceted individuals—must determine the fate of another human being based on the fallible accounts presented by others. With remarkable finesse, he engages with the core wounds of our justice system, reflecting his desire to preserve its integrity. The brilliance of Eastwood’s approach lies in his ability to explore these complex themes without losing his narrative focus or descending into preachiness. He successfully integrates a thriller aspect while delving into the nuances of truth, morality, ethics, politics, and the very heart of humanity.
The storyline of Juror Number 2 is both straightforward and intricate, linear yet richly layered. The lead character, Justin, portrayed by Nicholas Hoult, is introduced as a devoted husband and journalist at a local magazine in Savannah, Georgia. As he and his wife await the birth of their child, Justin grapples with the weight of the past—the specter of previous pregnancies that ended in heartbreak. However, when duty calls him as a juror in a murder trial concerning a man accused of killing his girlfriend, he finds his world upended. The trial unearths a moral quandary for Justin, who must confront the unsettling realization that his connection to the case runs deeper than he ever expected. He faces an arduous decision: should he adhere to the ideals of justice and truth, or succumb to personal interests that may cloud his judgment?
As Justin wrestles with his conflicting loyalties, the public prosecutor, played by Toni Collette, begins to experience her own doubts. Tasked with securing a conviction—crucial for her aspirations of becoming district attorney—her certainty begins to waver as she contemplates the multifaceted nature of truth. Remarkably, the film reveals that it’s not just these two protagonists who grapple with ethical dilemmas; nearly every character is caught in a web of personal interests masquerading as moral or professional integrity. They all face an inherent struggle: with the exception of the clearly guilty, every character seemingly prioritizes convenience over what is right.
Ninety-four years young, Clint Eastwood showcases a cinematic vision that remains brutally transparent, yet the motives and actions of his characters are often obscured and fraught with ambiguity. The challenge of truly perceiving and understanding the complex nature of justice is no small feat. As Eastwood keenly highlights from the outset, justice is indisputably blind, yet we, too, are often blinded by our own biases and interests. The act of turning a blind eye—symbolic of Justin’s character’s inner conflict—emerges as one of humanity’s most persistent failings. This gripping introspection takes place within an impeccably classical narrative framework, illustrating a stark and urgent reflection on the pursuit of truth in a world where it has too often been sacrificed on the altar of personal gain.
As Eastwood navigates these intricate themes, he expertly maintains the pulse of suspense and audience engagement, ensuring that no moment, shot, or narrative thread is squandered. If this turns out to be Eastwood’s swan song, one can only marvel at the mastery he brings forth—demanding not just our attention but our consideration of the larger issues at play. Indeed, what more could we ask of this extraordinary auteur and potentially his final cinematic venture?
Gins to waver, leading her to confront the consequences of her ambition. The intricacies of her character add another layer to Eastwood’s exploration of the moral implications surrounding justice, as she must weigh her professional aspirations against the potential harm caused by her pursuit of success.
The film artfully interlaces its personal dilemmas with broader societal themes, such as the reliability of our judicial system and the inherent flaws within it. Eastwood challenges audiences to reflect on the nature of truth—is it absolute, or is it shaped by our perceptions and biases? As Justin navigates his responsibilities as a juror, we witness the unraveling of his moral compass, confronting us with the question: can one truly separate personal interests from the duty to deliver justice?
Moreover, Eastwood’s keen ability to build suspense keeps viewers engaged, deftly intertwining moments of tension with poignant reflections on morality. The viewer empathizes with Justin, feeling the weight of his decisions, much like the jurors who are tasked with determining innocence or guilt based on often imperfect evidence.
In the midst of this tension, Eastwood doesn’t shy away from showcasing the heavy burden of responsibility that jury duty entails. He highlights the humanity of the jurors, portraying them not just as decision-makers but as individuals who carry the weight of their choices. This portrayal adds depth to the narrative, reminding us that behind each verdict is a story rife with emotion and consequence.
*Juror Number 2* stands not only as a fitting addition to Eastwood’s illustrious filmography but also as a thought-provoking exploration of the ethical and moral dilemmas inherent in our justice system. The film’s rich character development, coupled with its suspenseful, layered storytelling, makes it a compelling viewing experience. Clint Eastwood, at 94, has reminded us that cinema can serve as a mirror to society, reflecting our complexities and encouraging dialogue on pressing issues. As the credits roll, we are left with more questions than answers about justice, ethics, and what it means to be truly accountable, making this cinematic journey both thrilling and deeply resonant.
