Clint Eastwood's courtroom drama is too good to be shown in 50 cinemas

It's an injustice that duds like “Joker: Folie a Deux” and “Megalopolis” played on thousands of screens across the country while Clint Eastwood's gripping new film about justice, “Juror No. 2”, will only reach the 50th cinema screens.

The great courtroom drama could well be the 94-year-old “Million Dollar Baby” director's swansong, although he hasn't said much about it. And why would the gunslinger jump with the gun? The man still knows how to make a damn good movie.

How bizarre that most viewers have to wait for its streaming debut to see Eastwood's film. But “Juror No. 2” and its vanishing ilk are scaring studios today: morally complex, smart fare made for adults. What should scare Hollywood executives are cartoon villains singing show tunes, but I digress.

Even in the film's sporadic, awkward moments, you're always tense, you're always thinking, you're always filled with a realistic fear. You always ask yourself, “Could this happen to me?”

The puzzle we are wrestling with is tricky. Nicholas Hoult, an underrated actor who is one of the best of his generation, plays Justin, a jury member who begins to believe that he committed the crime – and not the defendant.

A year earlier, a woman named Kendall (Francesca Eastwood, Clint's 31-year-old daughter) was found dead at the bottom of an overpass after being struck with a hard object and then pushed over the railing. Or so they think.

The man on trial is her violent, tattooed boyfriend James (Gabriel Basso), who argued with her at a local bar. She stormed down the street and he followed her.

But as the details of the case emerge, the paranoid Justin remembers crashing his car into something on the same road late at night. He couldn't find a body and hoped it was at most a deer. Maybe it was, maybe not.

Whatever the case, his horrific accident, the guilt and doubts that have plagued him ever since, and the task of deciding James' fate – from 30 years to life in prison – are a man's worst nightmare.

Adding to the pressure is that Justin's pregnant wife, Allison (Zoey Deutch, absolutely perfect), is about to give birth, twelve months after suffering a traumatic miscarriage. And, yes, yes, he's also a recovering alcoholic (his AA sponsor is played by Kiefer Sutherland).

The visually plain film suffers a bit during the jury deliberations. The group initially almost unanimously assumes that James is guilty, but then falters because of their somewhat too specific origins.

The evidence presented by ambitious prosecutor Faith (Toni Collette) – who is also running for district attorney and has an intrusive first name – doesn't add up for a former police officer (JK Simmons) and a medical student (Chikako Fukuyama) who offers her own expert opinion on the matter how the injuries actually occurred.

These scenes, always entertaining, nevertheless strain credibility. The characters come to conclusions that it's hard to believe real people would reach, and venture in directions that a reasonable judge couldn't possibly condone.

But even as his character's life falls apart, Hoult's treacherous performance of warmth is unwavering. He is quiet, reserved and fidgety, with steely determination and devastatingly expressive eyes. The actor, more versatile than you might think, never overacts while the storm rages within him.

Part of what makes our debate about Justin so lively is the easygoing friendliness that Hoult exudes. How could someone so innocent and good-natured become involved in such a cruel crime? And if he actually did it, do we really want this sweet guy, soon to be a father, to suffer the obvious consequences or force his way through the cracks of a beleaguered justice system?

“It's a difficult question,” says Collette's Faith.

And that also applies to “Juror No. 2” in every respect.

Thank you, Clint, for a long and brilliant career full of tough challenges.