Post by Doghouse6 on Oct 2, 2019 23:21:57 GMT
Twelve Angry Men, Westinghouse Studio One (1954) Dir: Franklin Schaffner
It's always fascinating to compare the approaches of different directors and actors to the same material. In place of Lee J. Cobb's belligerent bombast as Juror #3 in 1957's 12 Angry Men, for instance, we have the imperious Franchot Tone's gradual unraveling and meltdown. But it's skilled farceur Robert Cummings, whose dramatic chops weren't always optimally evident in big-screen appearances, as Juror #8 providing the most rewarding interpretation of his character.
Cummings precedes Henry Fonda's calm, salt-of-the-earth integrity with halting diffidence that slowly transforms into emphatic assuredness as Juror #8's uncertainty becomes confidence, and his questions become assertions. Conveying silent thought must be one of the most difficult things for an actor to visually communicate, and Cummings allows the viewer to see the wheels turning and gears meshing.
Alongside Cummings and Tone are Edward Arnold, Walter Abel and Norman Fell among others, with George Voskovec and Joseph Sweeney originating the roles they reprised in the film. Look for Vincent Gardenia in a bit as the bailiff.
By necessity, the film extends the running time from that formatted to a 1-hour broadcast, enabling some fleshing out of both characters and evidentiary points, but the shorter form concentrates the tension, and even if some memorable inventions created for the film are absent, there's little sense of deprivation.
It's one of the most worthwhile TV predecessors of a major film that I've seen.
It's always fascinating to compare the approaches of different directors and actors to the same material. In place of Lee J. Cobb's belligerent bombast as Juror #3 in 1957's 12 Angry Men, for instance, we have the imperious Franchot Tone's gradual unraveling and meltdown. But it's skilled farceur Robert Cummings, whose dramatic chops weren't always optimally evident in big-screen appearances, as Juror #8 providing the most rewarding interpretation of his character.
Cummings precedes Henry Fonda's calm, salt-of-the-earth integrity with halting diffidence that slowly transforms into emphatic assuredness as Juror #8's uncertainty becomes confidence, and his questions become assertions. Conveying silent thought must be one of the most difficult things for an actor to visually communicate, and Cummings allows the viewer to see the wheels turning and gears meshing.
Alongside Cummings and Tone are Edward Arnold, Walter Abel and Norman Fell among others, with George Voskovec and Joseph Sweeney originating the roles they reprised in the film. Look for Vincent Gardenia in a bit as the bailiff.
By necessity, the film extends the running time from that formatted to a 1-hour broadcast, enabling some fleshing out of both characters and evidentiary points, but the shorter form concentrates the tension, and even if some memorable inventions created for the film are absent, there's little sense of deprivation.
It's one of the most worthwhile TV predecessors of a major film that I've seen.