Directed by:
Bennett MillerScreenplay:
Dan FuttermanCinematography:
Adam KimmelComposer:
Mychael DannaCast:
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Catherine Keener, Clifton Collins Jr., Chris Cooper, Bruce Greenwood, Bob Balaban, Mark Pellegrino, Marshall Bell, Amy Ryan (more)Plots(1)
In November, 1959, the shocking murder of a smalltown Kansas family captures the imagination of Truman Capote (Philip Seymour Hoffman), famed author of Breakfast at Tiffany's. With his childhood friend Harper Lee (Catherine Keener), writer of the soon-to-be published To Kill a Mockingbird, Capote sets out to investigate, winning over the locals despite his flamboyant appearance and style. When he forms a bond with the killers and their execution date nears, the writing of "In Cold Blood," a book that will change the course of American literature, takes a drastic toll on Capote, changing him in ways he never imagined. (official distributor synopsis)
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Reviews (8)
Miller's film is strong in the details (the interviews with the killers, the final execution), but if it weren't for Hoffman, it would be just one among many, with nothing special or revelatory in terms of filmmaking or story. Capote himself is a guy I wouldn't go out for a beer with. His self-centred, manipulative and disgustingly pragmatic and cynical nature, often resorting to lies, is almost repulsive in places – it must have been a joy to play and such a beautifully written controversial character. The casting people should be applauded here, Hoffman's type - a mixture of loser and strong charisma - is quite ideal for such a role. He didn’t disappoint, he was great.
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After In Cold Blood, I was definitely not in a good mood or I with peace in my soul. Capote added another dimension to the story, and it made those feelings even stronger. It's ugly, but that ugliness actually makes it an extremely interesting film that might not have been as good without Philip Seymour Hoffman, but that's a pointless musing. I would, however, also single out Catherine Keener, whose Harper Lee was the perfect human counterbalance to Truman Capote.
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The picture concentrates exclusively on the period that inspired the writing of one of the most fundamental American books of the 20th century - “In Cold Blood", the origin of the factual novel as such. A book that brought its author immortality and at the same time brought his fall into perdition. The subject is certainly intriguing, but Capote was such a complex and fascinating personage that the rather narrow focus of the story was rather a shame. It’s downright disappointing that the result is utterly humdrum and uninventive in all respects. The only element that saves it is the excellent performance from Hoffman, deservedly rewarded by more than one acting award. His performance precisely captures all nooks and crannies of Truman Capote’s soul. From homosexuality, through arrogance, calculating cunning, egoism to his desperate desire to be admired. And a warning concerning the Czech dubbing. Capote’s peculiar voice was difficult enough in the original to get right, but Hoffman did a splendid job of it. But in the Czech dubbed version, this literary heavyweight sounds like a pitiful caricature of himself.
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You can penetrate the story of Truman Capote in direct proportion to how you accept the main character. Philip Seymour Hoffman demonstrates almost extreme exhibitionism, although authentically, which almost repelled me from the film, but he won me over again thanks to the prison interviews, where he finally gained depth in intimate scenes. His frivolity later proves to be only a defensive weapon, but still, his interpretation remains on the border between overacting and artistic performance, fortunately closer to the latter option. The screenplay itself also remains somewhere in between. While the search for truth for a book is an excellent subject and gets under the viewer's skin almost on its own, feelings of guilt and the urgency of consequences do not have such power, and because that's what the ending is about, almost in its entirety, Capote fizzles out when the final credits appear.
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It’s too flat as a biography of a brilliant writer and too insubstantial as a film about a novel. In the film, Capote’s creative genius is limited to a few lame mentions of his previous work, and the actual creation of what is most substantial goes no further than what the viewer is able to form after reading "In Cold Blood" or watching Brooks' film of the same name. Phillip Seymour Hoffman's 100-minute homosexual creation thus becomes merely an aspirational pose that might have been provocative in the 1960s, but not today. The result is just an empty bubble, which at the time of its release got more flak than it perhaps deserved, and conversely, as a tribute to a brilliant storyteller, or rather a novel, it is about as impressive and original as a piece of marble.
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