Currently, I am working on a project, where I collect memories from childhood. Each chapter includes a reference to a movie, through which memories are narrated. The following is first section of one the chapters.
Hope you enjoy it!
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It was in the mid ‘80s when the movie came to Indian audiences as a TV movie.
Twelve men discussing the fate of a juvenile criminal.
Eighties was the beginning of the decline of parallel cinema in India, which made offbeat films about ordinary people who were not ‘heroes’ in a screen-sense. No pretty faces, no six pack abs, no life-threatening stunts, just regular people dealing with the human condition.
Ek Ruka Hua Faisla1, meaning A Delayed Decision, took place almost entirely in a courtroom.
I was highly impressed. What a different movie, I thought!
‘A copy’, informed Daddy.
‘A what?’
‘It’s a copy of 12 Angry Men.’
‘Do you know everything?’ I wrinkled my eyebrows and continued to defend the film ‘At least they adapted it well to the Indian setting.’
‘Hardly!’ Daddy shrugged.
‘How so?
‘India discontinued jury system a while back.’
‘Daang!!’ I snapped my fingers. Daddy educated so much by boring a hole in my glorious-pink -fairy-bubbles.
‘Juries are susceptible to bias’, he stated the Indian judicial system’s position, and followed it with his opinion,
‘Things happen so ideally- only in movies. All conflicts get resolved and every character connects with his own goodness, or else dies.’
He took a sip of tea and raised his cup towards me, ‘Thank God for that space called cinema’.
‘Phew, Thankyou Daddy, for restoring my faith.’, I thought, but didn’t say it.
He was right.
Cinema is a space to create an ideal. A space where in a matter of a few hours, conflicts are resolved, comic relief served, and solutions seem well arrived, as most characters see the error of their ways and lean towards creating peace.
Script is the king, in 12 Angry Men, followed by cleverly placed close ups. Back story of each character is revealed through their response to the case.
A scene from the Original 12 Angry Men:
Image Credit: https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-12-angry-men-1957
Sleepy but consistent success of 12 Angry Men is evident in the fact that not only has it been remade several times in the US, but has also been adapted in many countries to their native languages, Norwegian, Japanese, Chinese, German, and Hindi.
When I watched 12 angry men in the US, on AMC-American Movies Classic Channel, I noticed the story was indeed well-adapted to the Indian setting, except for the jury, of course.
The movie has a universal appeal. Know why? Because in real life, those who disagree will never sit in one room to try and understand their antagonist’s viewpoint.
But in the movie, they are confined to one room, even when they disagree.
After all, they have to decide the fate of a young man’s life.
The condition is that the vote must be unanimous to be considered.
Eleven out of twelve members of the jury vote guilty. Juror number eight, is undecided. So, he chooses to not vote. He wants a dialogue. A conversation.
‘What’s there to talk about, isn’t it obvious that he is guilty? Do you think he’s not?’ he is asked by many.
‘I don’t know,’ he insists time and again throughout the movie.
Juror number eight gets the conversation rolling, because of a reasonable doubt.
‘I do not know.’ He says, looking right into the camera. As if calling out to all of us. Reminding us to doubt ‘our knowledge.’
There is a beautiful shloka in Kena Upanishad, an Indian spiritual literature, that talks about limits of knowing. Even though it is written in regards to spiritual matters, it applies to our daily life:
yasyamatam tasya matam matam yasya na veda sah; avijnatam vijanatam vijnatam avijanatam.
To whomsoever it is unknown, to him it is known. To whomsoever it is known, he does not know.
(The one who thinks he knows, does not know, but the one who knows that he does not know, knows. )
As the movie continues, each character faces his demons, recognizes his own stubbornness. Gradually, each member questions his own views, stares at his prejudice. Slowly they warm up to the God within. To that power of dishing out judgment, that lies in all of us. That god-like power to acknowledge or ignore the other, to honor or overlook our prime duty to see ‘ourselves in the other’. When the divinity within wakes up they give the young man a chance -because we never know.
We just, never know.
Civilization would mean that we always strive towards resolution and communion.
That is the reason behind the universal appeal of 12 angry men– because it gets to the core of all conflict.
As the movie continues, each character faces his demons, recognizes his own stubbornness. Gradually, each member questions his own views, stares at his prejudice.
One difference stands out in the last scene the last scene. Where juror eight, the first one to stand alone in his belief, brings a jacket to juror three, the last one to change his verdict. In the Indian version, he brings a glass of water, when juror number three breaks down.
The land of yoga, talks often about how ‘breathing is directly connected to our emotional state.’
In India whenever a person has an outburst of anger or is sad after a bout of crying, is offered a glass of water. Water calms the person, as it opens the channels of breathing. Drinking water helps the distressed person return to breathing at a normal pace.
In both cases, the one who raised the doubt first, took care of the one who was the last to change his opinion.
In real life though, juror number eight would get into moral superiority or become a cynic. Juror number three would never deal with his own demons or recognize his prejudice.
Would it not be nice if Juror number eight and juror number three speak to each other, listening, carefully trying to understand each other?
Daddy was right, cinema is a space for the ideal. For in real life, juror number eight and juror number three would never see the value of sitting in the same room for long.
Especially juror three, who was so sure of himself.
Ek Ruka Hua Faisla, is available on YouTube.