Doubt

I did not grow up a Catholic, but the figure of the scary nun is one that has bled into the psyches of almost all Americans. Last night I was discussing Doubt with a friend of mine, who went to Catholic school and saw the play upon which the film was based. She went to a progressive high school, but quickly added, "But grammar school was just like that." Her school had a nun that floated around the school like a marauder, seeking out breaches of discipline and correcting them with fierce alacrity.

In Doubt, the central character is just such a nun, Sister Aloysius, memorably played by Meryl Streep. I have no inside knowledge, but I don't think it's a stretch to imagine that the writer and director of the film (as well as the playwright) John Patrick Shanley knew just such a nun when he was in school. He probably wondered what made such a scary person tick, and in this film he does an admirable job of making a stereotype live and breathe.

Set in the Bronx in 1964, the Sister is the principal of a school and runs it as if she were a warden. She is decidedly old-fashioned, condemning secular Christmas songs like Frosty the Snowman as pagan magical rites, and blaming the ballpoint pen for ruining society's penmanship (she may be right about that one). In addition to the children, she holds court over the other nuns, tinkling a bell to announce she's going to say something at dinner. A young nun, Sister James (Amy Adams) is somewhat in awe of her, but also resistant to her doctrinaire ways, preferring to see the good in people first.

The parish priest is Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman). Streep is somewhat suspicious of him at the outset, for he is a reformer. When Adams brings to Streep's attention that Hoffman has had a private meeting in the rectory with one of the altar boys, the school's only black student, the old nun raises her hackles. It's not spoken aloud, but it's inferred that through her long experience she recognizes a pedophile when she sees one. She endeavors to get to the truth.

I enjoyed this film a great deal, even for its obviousness. The title, of course, works on two levels. There is the doubt over Hoffman's guilt, as well as the larger meaning of the word, which is one's doubt of one's faith. Streep's character, through most of the picture, has no doubt about either. Hoffman represents the new social order coming in--he defends himself almost in legal and sociological terms, while Streep has the attitude of a grand inquisitor. What makes her character work is that at no time does one sense that she does not have the best intentions of the children in mind, and embodies the Christian values that her heavy cross hanging around her neck represent.

There's some very good acting here, starting with Streep. I think she's kind of taken for granted these days, the preeminent actress in cinema today. This role will earn her her fifteenth Oscar nomination in only 31 years of making movies. She is well known for being a chameleon and burying herself in her performances--in Doubt she adds a Bronx accent to her palette--but I think that's noteworthy. Katharine Hepburn and Bette Davis both had stylistic flourishes that immediately identified them. I don't see a Las Vegas drag queen ever incorporating Streep into their acts, for there's nothing to parody. I've never seen her give a bad performance, even in nonsense like Death Becomes Her of She-Devil (of course I haven't seen Mamma Mia!)

The supporting cast is also very strong. I liked Amy Adams a great deal, and it's a tricky part. The tendency would be to play her as Pollyanna, a naif. But Adams clearly grows over the course of the film, both wanting to become more like Streep and dreading it. There's a nice moment when she snaps at a student, who is shocked by her vehemence, and Adams is shocked too, and even apologizes to the student, something that Streep that would never do. Hoffman is also very good in a very rich part. He must make the choice, before filming has even started, whether the man is guilty or not, and offers clues but does not reveal all. It's a canny performance.

The fourth terrific performance is by Viola Davis, as the boy's mother. She is in only one scene, but it's a doozy. Streep calls her in to share her suspicions, but Davis' reaction suprises her, and Davis reveals some information that changes our perception of the incident. Davis knocks it out of the park in a segment that lasts less than ten minutes.

If it's fun to watch all this good acting, it's less pleasurable to hear the machinery creaking in Shanley's direction. For starters there is an overemphasis on meteorology--lots of talk about winds--and in Streep and Hoffman's showdown climax scene, which is otherwise brilliant, Shanley has added a thunderstorm in the background, as if it were a Universal horror picture. He also frequently employs a skewed camera angle, surely to suggest that something is amiss, but reminding me of the scenes in villain's lairs in the old Batman TV series. I did like Roger Deakins' photography, which perfectly captures the cold grays of an inner-city December.

So go see Doubt for the great acting, and be charitable and forgive the obviousness of the writing and direction. And maybe say a few rosaries while you're at it.