Doubt (15.)
Directed by John Patrick Shanley
Starring Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Viola Davis, and Alice Drummond. 105 mins.
Doubt is an example of a genre that was big in the eighties – the Other Best Picture nominees. These are small films adapted from acclaimed theatre productions with esteemed actors in the main roles, films like A Soldier’s Soldier, Agnes of God, Children of a Lesser God, The Dresser that in a weak year sneak into the final five nominees for the main prize or supply an acting nominations before slipping quietly out the door and never being mentioned again.
Shanley’s adaptation of his own off Broadway play has every element of the genre. It has an important theme (paedophile priests, the nature of truth), a period setting (a Catholic School in mid 60s Bronx) and muted wintry tones. PSH is the priest, Streep is the Nun and Adams is the naïve novice who raises doubts about his relationship with the only black student at the school. We are of course on an inevitable path towards some severe shouting as Shanley works over his themes in a fairly rudimentary way.
Such films are usually considered to be actors’ showcases but they rarely bring out the very best in them. The need to be True to the Text becomes an inhabiting factor, like donning chain mail. Hoffman, Streep and Adams are all “good,” but none of them are inspired.
Streep’s conception of a stern Sister initially seems to be based on ones she’s seen in horror films or the Penguin in The Blues Brothers. She gradually relaxes into a very well judged impersonation of Germaine Greer – which may not be a bad choice for a cranky, unforgiving, judgemental and vindictive old nun.
Top of the acting class though is Viola Davis who gets just one ever so emotional scene as the boy’s mother. She doesn’t just cry; she gets big blobs of tears to collect on her lower eyelid and teeter there precariously, as you wait for them to drop. But that’s not all, she also marshals (look away now if you’re squeamish) great globes of snot to flood down into her mouth. Now that’s acting. Give her an Oscar, give her a tissue, but get her to stop.
Directed by John Patrick Shanley
Starring Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Viola Davis, and Alice Drummond. 105 mins.
Doubt is an example of a genre that was big in the eighties – the Other Best Picture nominees. These are small films adapted from acclaimed theatre productions with esteemed actors in the main roles, films like A Soldier’s Soldier, Agnes of God, Children of a Lesser God, The Dresser that in a weak year sneak into the final five nominees for the main prize or supply an acting nominations before slipping quietly out the door and never being mentioned again.
Shanley’s adaptation of his own off Broadway play has every element of the genre. It has an important theme (paedophile priests, the nature of truth), a period setting (a Catholic School in mid 60s Bronx) and muted wintry tones. PSH is the priest, Streep is the Nun and Adams is the naïve novice who raises doubts about his relationship with the only black student at the school. We are of course on an inevitable path towards some severe shouting as Shanley works over his themes in a fairly rudimentary way.
Such films are usually considered to be actors’ showcases but they rarely bring out the very best in them. The need to be True to the Text becomes an inhabiting factor, like donning chain mail. Hoffman, Streep and Adams are all “good,” but none of them are inspired.
Streep’s conception of a stern Sister initially seems to be based on ones she’s seen in horror films or the Penguin in The Blues Brothers. She gradually relaxes into a very well judged impersonation of Germaine Greer – which may not be a bad choice for a cranky, unforgiving, judgemental and vindictive old nun.
Top of the acting class though is Viola Davis who gets just one ever so emotional scene as the boy’s mother. She doesn’t just cry; she gets big blobs of tears to collect on her lower eyelid and teeter there precariously, as you wait for them to drop. But that’s not all, she also marshals (look away now if you’re squeamish) great globes of snot to flood down into her mouth. Now that’s acting. Give her an Oscar, give her a tissue, but get her to stop.
