They have no proper names. Juror One, Juror Two, and so forth. Their identities are hastily revealed. An architect. A marmalade salesman. Yet these 12 ordinary men, bound (bitterly, it should be noted) by their common civic duty, produce some extraordinarily gripping moments. They bicker, they rage, sometimes they even talk about the trial (a standard-issue murder-by-stabbing). And while Reginald Rose's 1954 script is showing its age—one racist rant is way over the top in 2004—a dozen well-suited actors ensure the story never feels old.