Those old timers just keep pumping em out. Ridley Scott has been making a movie a year since he turned 80, and Clint Eastwood, now over 90, is on a similar pace, just incredible. Unfortunately the days are gone for Clint to star in a good movie he also directs (sorry, I had to Cry Macho on that one). But, just directing? Juror #2 shows the man’s still got the touch.
In a small town, a woman named Kendall Carter (Clint’s daughter Francesca) has been killed and dumped over the side of a bridge (yikes, harsh, dad!) after getting into a fight at a bar with her volcanic boyfriend James Sythe (Gabriel Basso). Months later, the murder trial is starting, with politically aspiring Faith Killebrew (Toni Collette) banking she can put Sythe in jail against her friend and overworked public defender Eric Resnick (Chris Messina). Jury selection sees the jury of peers built: an older flower shop owner Harold (JK Simmons), organized and excited Denice (Leslie Bibb), concerned father Marcus (Cedric Yarbrough), and Yolanda (Adrienne C. Moore), who wants this trial to end ASAP for work. Oh, and one more: journalist Justin Kemp (Nicholas Hoult), who, um, may have very specific insights into this specific murder that the defender may have forgotten to ask about.
Juror #2 is one of those “they don’t make them like they used to” movies, but the good kind. This is a solid adult drama that sucks you in through just a well written script. Yes there’s a car crash, but it’s not necessary to keep the viewer invested. The pitch is nice and juicy: what if you were on a jury of a crime you had some sort of involvement in? And Eastwood and his great cast mine as much as they can out of the story. The movie is at its best when Justin is using the trial to also exercise and adjudicate his own morality. He’s walking a knife’s edge: one slip up and he’ll be caught and taken away from his wife Ally (Zoey Deutch) and their new baby, but he also has to know of this James Sythe was also going to do something awful to Kendall anyways, quasi letting him off with a “pass.” Nicholas Hoult does a good job internalizing everything, meek in public, completely conflicted when at home with Ally. The rest of the cast is on their game too, giving great performances for “one take Clint” to make you feel as conflicted as Justin does, especially Gabriel Basso, humanizing someone we’re usually supposed to hate.
Clint’s direction on the whole is better than most other directors in his 90s, just an amazing feat. He smartly intersperses the past with the trial, keeping the tension high as we get mired in a lot of dense dialogue. The sequestering is riveting, as, like 12 Angry Men, the jury ebbs and flows as new information comes to light. There’s probably one or two subplots too many. The stuff with Justin and Ally at home is fine, but the Toni Collette subplot is hit and miss, just like her accent (zing!), eventually righting itself by the end. Same with Justin’s visits to his therapist (Kiefer Sutherland), which needed to be cut or expanded, and is left mildly tantalizing. As the story goes on, Clint figures out what plots work, dispels with what doesn’t, and puts us on the best path for the most satisfying movie experience for the audience. Clint flirts with the ludicrous line a few times, but thankfully, pulls back when Juror #2 threatens to go off the rails, landing in a perfect spot for everyone to get home and grab lunch.
I hope Clint does this until he’s 150. Some of the movies over the past 10 years that stay with me are ones he’s got his fingerprints on. American Sniper was a sensation. Sully was a gem, Richard Jewell was flawed but fun. Keep living your truth old timer. That is, until you tell me to get off my lawn, cause I’m pretty sure you can kick my ass still.