The premise of Juror #2 is simple – it focuses on the life of Justin Kemp (Nicholas Hoult), a journalist recovering from alcoholism who is assigned to be a juror in a year old case of homicide. This until he realises that he may well have a stake in the case which in turn results in a moral dilemma – one that could sway the judgment of either convicting the accused or freeing him for life. The one thing that stands out with the writing is that it adopts a classic approach here as far as the legal procedural is concerned, minutely tweaking the template of the Twelve Angry Men, but always maintaining a fulcrum with respect to the protagonist. As a result, the moral dilemma extends across the screen wherein even the viewers are conflicted, particularly with respect to what is at stake for the protagonist. This, in turn makes the character of the protagonist a searing case study of conflicting proportions on a moral scale.

When you are introduced to Justin, you see him as a happy family man taking good care of his pregnant wife, who had previously suffered from a miscarriage. Looking at him, there wouldn’t be a single thought that would cross your mind citing that he is hiding a secret. But the moment the character steps outside his comfort zone, you notice some cracks in his demeanor. Initially, his reluctance of being in the panel as a juror can be misconstrued as his duty of taking care of his pregnant wife – but the demons of doubt are soon evaporated very early on in the court proceedings, when Justin gets flashes of an incident that is curiously linked to the current case. Yet, the writing offers just enough detail to create a doubt in the minds of the viewers – the hint is subtle but inconsequential, something that offers enough fodder for the procedural to transpire in its classic form.

The proceedings heavily relies in hearsays of individual characters while trying to recreate the core event of the drama which is riddled with guilt, should you choose to view it from the perspective of Justin. Yet, the moral dilemma of Justin cannot be undermined too, something that shifts over time from surrendering himself to the authorities to ensuring that the accused is pleaded as not guilty. This, while the politics of the drama plays out in the background with respect to a couple of characters that stand to gain on personal grounds with the verdict. Yet, the template of Twelve Angry Men comes to the fore in a classic setup wherein Justin finds himself as the sole opposer to the otherwise unaminous verdict by the panel. In a way, it was a reimagining of events that formed the core of the 1957 film, by branching out with the possibility that what if Juror #8 (Henry Fonda from Twelve Angry Men) was the perpretrator after all.

The transition of the second to the third act marks a little cat and mouse game featuring Justin trying to outsmart a bunch of characters, into changing their vote up until there is no way back. You can also call Justin as an opportunist of sorts, who wished to provide justice to the accused, but not at the cost of his life. Afterall, his life was barely back on tracks after a series of unfortunate events, something that doesn’t entirely vilify Justin. The tension that was mounted here reminded me of Drishyam (2013) wherein the protagonist was the most underestimated character in the universe, yet always found a way to wriggle out of a situation. The only difference being that in Drishyam, everyone knew about Georgekutty being guilty without proof, here though, no one was really clear about Justin’s intentions that automatically allowed the trajectory of the drama to be uncertain, in a positive sense. And so in a way, Justin’s character arc also is slowly pushed to the hilt, while you see a rearguard action from him towards the end. The open end only contributes to a series of discussions that would emerge, considering that the drama ends on a cliffhanger. The screenplay is typically old school with its mood and setting but truly a modern day adaptation of a classic legal procedural in its purest sense.