Director William Friedkin was so old and uninsurable during the making of the courtroom drama The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial that the Oscar-winner Guillermo del Toro sat beside him on set every day, contractually bound to take over in case Friedkin were to — forgive the morbidity — die mid-production. The legendary filmmaker got the job done, but passed away not long afterwards. He was 87 years old. Clint Eastwood is even older; at 94, he just delivered what could be his final film, Juror No 2. Coincidentally another courtroom drama, the movie arrives over three decades after Eastwood entered the self-reflective phase of his career with the contemplative Western Unforgiven. In the last decade or so, he has devoted himself — as one would expect of a dying man — to understanding the idea of decency. Having made a name for himself in a genre famous for viewing the world in black and white, Eastwood has spent the better part of the last couple of decades dabbling in different shades of grey.

Sometimes truth isn’t justice, and justice isn’t truth’. Delivered with both pain and profundity in the penultimate moments of Juror#2, this incandescent line not only sums up the film, but the justice system as a whole, anywhere in the world. Exposing the fault lines in our rules of crime and punishment, but in the kind of quiet yet forceful manner which has been a signature of his brand of filmmaking ever since Clint Eastwood first put on the director’s hat a staggering 53 years ago, Juror#2 is the type of film that makes your mind go back to it time and again even days and weeks after watching it.