As the lights flash and the final twitters of the audience die down, the voice of John Krug as the judge booms out over the crowd. He charges the twelve men of the jury with the unsavory task of deciding the mortal fate of a sixteen-year-old boy accused of murdering his father.
What then takes place on the small YCDS stage is nothing short of brilliant. The set, a simple yet highly effective rendering of a jury deliberation room (complete with running water!), comes alive with sadness, triumph, anger, and defeat. The cast is dressed simply in clothes that match both the times and their personalities.
David Khabinsky as Juror No. 8 gives a wonderfully even and passionate performance as the steadfast voice of reason. His reason is not “innocence,” but rather the “reasonable doubt” with which no jury can convict. His vote of “not guilty” is met with incredulity that quickly devolves into anger as personal prejudices and emotions get entangled with the case.
As each juror explains the source of his reticence, the members play out the scene and explore every possible avenue. One noteworthy performer who does this is Ze’ev Deutsch as Juror No. 4. While he remains a quiet voice, his cool stoicism allows him to remain the reasonable voice of the “guilty” side, even as their numbers begin to dwindle. The audience is alerted to the cracks in the surety of the case as he, who had previously stated that he never sweats, mops his brow. Deutsch’s performance is commendable as it commands our attention without showmanship or volume.
Another standout is Juror No. 7, played by Doni Mandel, who is as repugnant as he is delightful. Mandel gets points for having excellent stage presence, which endures even while his character is not cracking jokes. Juror No. 7 wants only to get the trial over with in order to get to his ball game. When he sees that that is not going to happen, and that the tide of votes is turning, he changes his vote despite his previously staunch “guilty” position. Juror No. 11, played by Dov Adelson, challenges Juror No. 7’s flip-flopping in his hilarious German accent. It seemed that any time Juror No. 11, a watchmaker advocating politeness and authenticity, opened his mouth, the audience was moved to laughter.
Furthermore, Juror No. 5, played by Binyamin Weinreich, sheds more light on the case as he originates from the very same slum as the boy on trial. Having lived in the slums, Juror No. 5 laments his knowledge of switchblades and explains their proper use as it pertains to the case. Weinreich’s calculated patience stands in direct contrast to Moshe Rube’s hotheaded and violent performance as Juror No. 10. A racist with a cold, Juror No. 10 spews ongoing vitriolic attacks towards “those people,” or, the members of the defendant’s social class, culminating in a screaming tirade that ends with him being sent to a corner with a charge of silence. The fantastic direction of Lin Snider deserves a special mention here, as the men one by one rise as Rube rants, finally leaving no one at the jury tables. In a tense and dramatic moment, all eleven other members of the jury turn back, silently condemning Juror No. 10’s prejudice and malice.
The last holdout to reach the “not guilty” verdict is Tani Isaac, who shines as Juror No. 3. The juror’s obstinacy comes from his broken relationship with his own son, and the man cannot separate his emotions from the facts of the case before him. Isaac renders this emotional strife with a graceful wrath that rivets and frightens the rapt audience. We recoil as he screams he will “kill” Juror No. 8, and feel his defeat as Juror No. 8 replies with a cool and calculated, “You don’t really mean you’re going to kill me, do you?” We understand his reluctance, even as we condemn his pigheadedness. And we feel his loss and regret as he finally acquiesces with a strangled “not guilty.”
As the foreman, played by David Stahl, informs the judge that the twelve men have reached a verdict, the audience is left with the image of the empty jury room, with the switchblade, still sticking straight up from the table into which it had been stabbed in anger, bathed in a small yellow spotlight.
The entire cast brings something to the table and sparks questions of morality and doubt in this extremely well performed rendition of 12 Angry Men.