It’s fascinating, in theory, to take the premise of 12 Angry Men— a lone juror believes a murder ? defendant is innocent, then tries to sway his fellow jurors — and transplant it to Moscow. Yet ?Nikita Mikhalkov’s movie 12, an Oscar nominee last year, has none of the crisp passion or suspense of the 1957 Sidney Lumet version; it’s bloated, heavy-handed, and lugubrious. Each juror, with a misery so blustery it becomes deadeningly repetitious, acts out his own nationalistic struggle as they all weigh the fate of a young Chechen accused of killing his adoptive Russian father. C
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