Doubt (2008)
Grade:B+
“You’re writing a stageplay!” I got this comment a lot during one of my screenwriting classes in college. In other words, what I was writing was overly talkative and not necessarily suited to film, which is, at its base level, a visual medium. So I retooled things, thought about dramatizing through actions, and got closer to a screenplay than a stageplay. I got a B+ in the class.
So I suppose it’s fitting that John Patrick Shanley’s immensely decorated and venerated stageplay Doubt receives a B+ from me for its film adaptation. There’s a lot to like about the film, for sure, but there’s also that nagging, well, doubt about whether or not the play needed to be adapted into a film at all. And there’s definitely a sense that the source material was written and intended for a stage, not for in front of a camera.
The film opens with Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) delivering a speech to his congregation about – you guessed it – doubt. It’s the beginning of what is perhaps the biggest downfall of the movie, and that is the heavy hand that director/writer Shanley has with this film iteration’s exploration of doubt. It’s like he doesn’t trust his audience to get that he’s dealing with doubt, and it’s completely clear without having it explained to us in detail (the less said about the heavy hand with which the final moments of the film unfold, the better).
As the film develops, there is an exchange between Father Flynn and the first black student at the school, which Sister James (Amy Adams) interprets as possible child abuse and reports to strict veteran nun Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep), who then uses the information to propel a crusade to eradicate the more liberal and progressive Father Flynn from her church. She has no proof, but she has her convictions. Conflict ensues, drama ensues, tears are shed, and we’re all supposed to be wowed by how deep the film is.
And on the whole, this tactic is largely successful. Though there are some issues with the execution, the film is immensely engrossing and thoroughly interesting as an exploration of three characters who all do wrong over the course of the film, but who all have legitimate reasons for doing so. No one is a clear-cut villain here, even Aloysius. Shanley is too smart a writer and Streep too gifted an actress to make Aloysius a complete witch, and the film is all the better for it. Nor is Father Flynn completely innocent: as played by Hoffman, it’s all too easy to side with Aloysius when accusations of child abuse are thrown about.
Doubt is the kind of prestige film (from awards whores Miramax, of course) that constantly feels like it’s worthy of awards, even when it’s perhaps a flawed film. You know the kind of movie I’m talking about: the Aviators, the Munichs, the Hourses, the Chicagos. Films that have that glossy sheen and gently pulsing music and literary centers and pretentious fonts for the credits and Meryl Streep or Cate Blanchett or Kate Winslet as the lead actress. I have no qualms with these films, of course, but in the case of Doubt, this sort of overt sense that the studio wants you to marvel at the craftsmanship at play can get distracting. In Doubt, when Hoffman and Streep get into a passive aggressive shouting match, no matter how powerful the acting, there’s that unrelenting sense that we’re supposed to be wowed.
And like I’ve said, the material is strong enough to overcome any pretentiousness from the studio, and the acting strong enough to get the film through any heavy-handed parts (Viola Davis should also be mentioned here, who only has one scene, but who verifiably steals her eight minutes from scene partner Meryl Streep). As the film ended and my viewing companions and I discussed it, I said that the film was simply there. I don’t know if there’s a better way to put it. For what the film wants to accomplish, it’s perfectly serviceable. While the film occasionally rises above its stage origins and feels more than some characters in a room talking to one another, it never really soars.
Bottom Line:
The acting is superb, but the adaption is clearly better-suited to a stage. It’s the kind of glossy, slick prestige production that’s bound to feel deep and important, but it’s merely a solid and well-done character study.
© 2004-2009 Ben Waldorf. Posted December 11, 2008. IMDB