Actually, "re-birthday" is the proper nomenclature, since Reginald Rose's classic teleplay (1954) has been a film (1957) and a TV-film (1997) but never before a Broadway play. It wears well in this new medium—a dozen white guys sitting around talking, weighing on a rickety, well-worn scale of U.S. justice the fate of a teenager accused of killing his father.

In application, it is a character actor's field day, and 12 of New York's finest came right up to the mark and went at it hammer and tong, sparking an impressive ensemble display.

Their names, from one to twelve, are Mark Blum, Kevin Geer, Philip Bosco, James Rebhorn, Michael Mastro, Robert Clohessy, John Pankow, Boyd Gaines, Tom Aldredge, Peter Friedman, Larry Bryggman and Adam Trese. There is also a court guard, Matte Osian, who fetches Exhibits A and B upon request and stands by for three roles. Guy Paul, Karl Kenzler and Terry Layman also function as alternate jurors, each understudying three roles. Unseen: Robert Prosky as the judge who charges the jury.

"We were really lucky," Roundabout's longtime casting director, Jim Carnahan, shrugged happily. "Everyone we asked said yes—unless they really weren't available."

"You have no idea what it's like," rhapsodized Pankow, Juror #7, a major noise of the evening (the low-brow, loud-mouth salesman). "There are 340 years of stage experience among the 12—I figured it out myself—and I gotta tell you: If you're an actor, you feel this the minute you get on stage with these guys. They know how to tell a story without ever talking about it. They just know—it's in their bones—and that's one of the most gratifying experiences an actor can have—to be on stage with guys who have chops like that."

You got no argument on that score from his fellow jurors. Only the metaphors changed: "A speed-demon train" (Aldredge). "A dream cast" (Bryggman). "Like playing with an orchestra" (Mastro). "An all-star baseball team" (Blum). "It sounds Pollyannaish, but it's true: nicest cast I've worked with" (Bosco). "We speak the same language" (Clohessy).

Where you would get an argument was over the innocence or guilt of the fictional accused.

"At some point in rehearsal," Bosco recalled, "Scott said, `Forget about your roles. How would you, as a human being right now, vote?' Two of us said he was guilty. Four said he wasn't, and the others were uncertain—which kinda reflects what a real jury would feel."

Then there was Bryggman, who had his reasonable doubts too but added, "Some of us said, `I don't believe in the death penalty so I wouldn't be on this jury to begin with.'"

Martin Short, part of a pro-Scott Ellis contingent who flew in from the West Coast to see the show, felt that a reasonable doubt had been demonstrated. "They did their job as a jury," he declared firmly. "We should do so well at Guantanamo Bay. Also, I was astounded at how contemporary the play is, given the election. I thought it was genius."

On Short's arm was his old Second City cohort (and herself a Tony winner), Andrea Martin, who said she's been busy doing plays in other towns but is now back for a spell. "We'll see what happens," she added tantalizingly as if some traps have already been set.

Prior to the curtain, Short was spotted chatting with another California transplant, Victor Garber. They were not talking Little Me, which both did on Broadway 17 years apart. Continued...