The last time I saw
Twelve Angry Men, the men were singing. That was
Theater Latte Da's world premiere musical adaptation of the classic American story, which began as an episode of a TV show, before being adapted into a stage play and movie. I've actually only seen the non-singing version once, 20 years ago (and have never seen the movie, natch), so I was eager to revisit it at Lyric Arts. I knew from Latte Da's 2022 musical that, despite being written 70 years ago, this piece still has lots to say about today's world, but I was still struck by how timely and relevant this play feels now. In just 90 minutes, it explores ideas of justice, and injustice, race, class, privilege, anti-immigrant sentiment, masculinity, communication, and empathy. This is a really tight production with a fantastic 13-person cast (12 jurors + 1 bailiff), on a gorgeous 1950s jury room set.
Twelve Angry Men is a classic for a reason - thought-provoking, relevant, intellectually engaging, and even funny at times. See it on
Lyric Arts' Main Street Anoka stage now through November 1 (just be careful to avoid the Halloween celebrations in the Halloween capital of the world!).
For those of you unfamiliar with the story, the entire play takes place in real time inside a jury deliberation room. They are deciding the fate of a young, poor man from "the slums" who is charged with killing his father. The opening vote is 11 guilty, one not guilty, and therein lies the drama. Over 90 minutes, the men debate the case trying to come to a consensus, and in doing so they discuss issues of race, class, duty, the justice system, and family dynamics. They argue, disagree, challenge, acquiesce, change their minds, and change them back again as they talk and more importantly, listen to each other. The question at hand is not what really happened, but does the evidence presented prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the accused is guilty and deserves to be sentenced to death.*
 |
| the 12 jurors (photo by Molly Jay) |
While this play is required to have an all-male cast, at least there's a woman in charge - director Julie K. Phillips. The play is beautifully directed in a very naturalistic way, with little side conversations or interactions happening simultaneously, in a way that feels very similar to how a large group functions in real life. All of the characters feel very real too, and uniquely specific from the moment they step on stage, which is a credit to the writing, directing, and of course the performances by this lovely and talented cast. It's a true ensemble, and they work together very well, but if there's a lead role it's Juror #8, the lone "not guilty" vote that starts the discussion, and Davin Grindstaff is really wonderful in the role. Strong but not showy, fully embodying this man that truly just wants to do the right thing, even when he's not sure what that is. Also great are Jim Ahrens an older juror who early on defends #8 and empathizes with one of the witnesses; Peter Aitchison as the most overtly racist juror, speaking lines about how "those people" are no good, that sound eerily familiar; David Coral as the reluctant foreman; Dominic Delong-Rodgers as the calm rational juror, until his patience is tested too; David Denninger as the angriest of the men; Jonathan Steven Edwards as a juror who grew up in "the slums" like the accused; Michael Garry as a juror who goes along with the majority, until he doesn't; Brandon Holscher as the always exasperated juror who just wants it to be over; Abdoul Kondo as an immigrant who provides some important perspective; Jake Muszynski as a timid juror who finds his voice (and the second hand on his watch); and Matt Saxe as the slick penthouse-dwelling ad exec. Every jury needs a bailiff, and this one has Landon Hudson, who spends the bulk of the play sitting outside the room but in view of the audience, acting dutiful but bored with his job whenever called upon.
 |
| the men get angry (photo by Molly Jay) |
The setting for this play is relatively simple - a jury room. But it's beautifully constructed with great detail: wood floor, framed in walls with a door and windows angled to give perspective, and a long table place diagonally in the center. On one side is a water cooler with tiny paper cups, which the actors often drink from, on the other side are a couple of chairs and a table, with a bench in front used in the demonstrations. All of these areas are used, and kudos to the director for moving the actors around the space in a way that makes sense and doesn't feel crowded. The twelve men all have notepads and pencils at their seat at the table, which they occasionally write on, with other vintage props around the room, my favorite of which is the pencil sharpener in the back that actually gets used. This is the '50s, and most of the men are wearing suits, each one subtly different as befits the character, but it's summer, so jackets get removed, shirt sleeves get rolled up, ties get loosened as things get heated, with the process reversed as the proceedings conclude. Very subtle sound design adds to the building tension, and blackouts delineate the three acts of the play, and give the audience a chance to applaud. (Scenic design by Cory Skold, costume design Sarah Christenson, lighting and sound design by Shannon Elliott, props design by Beth Miller.)
This play is based on a simple concept, but it's so complex and layered in execution. It shows us the flaws in our system - this poor kid who had the deck stacked against him from birth, and also the ways that the system works sometimes - one principled man determined to give him a fair shot. Because systems are applied by people, and in the end, it was the people in this story who came through where the system did not. Congratulations to Lyric Arts for this well-done classic that speaks to today.
*Plot summary borrowed from my review of Theater Latte Da's musical adaptation.
