Showing @ Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh Wed 21 Nov only

Usually, when films are reinterpreted through dance it’s into flamboyant and garish productions like Julie Taymore‘s Broadway version of Spider-Man, but Andy Howitt’s reimagining of Sindey Lumet’s 12 Angry Men remains in-keeping with the understated frenzy of the film. Originally about one member of a jury trying to persuade his peers of a man’s innocence, Howitt’s version keeps the narrative but translates the story into supple fluid movements.

A fusion of ballet, capoeira and break-dancing, Howitt seamlessly blends these styles into something akin to a new graceful discipline. While the choreography is uninspiring it is injected with sporadic moments of creative flair, such as the chair back prison, enlivening the otherwise bland gesticulations. While the multifunctional table loosens the static nature of the plot (the use of levels like a judges seat), many of the ensemble pieces were out of sync, suggesting the show was under-rehearsed. The live musical accompaniment adds a smoky intensity to the performer’s gyrations, punctuated with Yann Ghiro’s melodious clarinet trills.

The main problem is that while there are recognisable flashes of the original, the real meat of the film: the defence’s different perspective, the fractious rivalries, the jury’s attitudes and the suffocating heat aren’t conveyed clearly enough through the dancing. While Howitt’s choreography does portray the painstaking manner in which Henry Fonda repeatedly pleads with his counterparts, it’s missing the dialogue’s subtleties, the element that humanises the characters into people related to our own lives. Without this link, it’s difficult to forge an emotional affinity with the spectacle. Regretfully, although moments of delight and intrigue do occur, they are outweighed by the absence of a connection to the action, a lack of the engaging and desperate hope that all the jury are converted, something eminent in Lumet’s classic.

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