Capote

Capote is a profoundly quiet film. The story it concerns, the seemingly random murder of a Kansas family in 1959, was perhaps sensational. Capote, however, is going for gritty, kind of taciturn reality. Complacent and yet never passive, Capote is terrific film-making.
Of course, you've heard the endless, unrivaled praise for Hoffman's delicate and sharp performance. You probably don't want to hear me go on about it. Well, too bad. Hoffman undergoes a transformation similar to other actors along the lines of Nicole Kidman in The Hours and Jamie Fox in Ray. The high-pitched voice, the diminutive build, the charismatic and yet alienating nature. Truman Capote was almost a work of fiction himself, as he admits to early in the film, reviling against those who have pegged him inaccurately as a result of his mannerisms. Hoffman nails the voice and even the size, a trick of the camera no doubt, and yet somehow Hoffman makes us believe it is of his own doing. As if he made himself smaller out of sheer concentration. He makes Capote a showman and a freak, a flamboyant soul with a dark underbelly that allows him to understand the killers without pardoning their actions. The scenes in which he sits in Perry Smiths's (Clifton Collins Jr.) cell are magnificently performed. Hoffman's sympathetic stare reveals layers about Capote, the darkness, the humanity, and the realization of the terrible tragedy in falling love with a person that it is absolutely necessary not to fall in love with. And yet his seeming powerlessness to do anything about this tragedy.
The film opens with a friend of the Clatter family entering their farm house and finding the bloodshed there. The four of them, mother and father plus the daughter and son, have been killed. There is minimal music, the camera simply follows the girl as she finds the bodies in their respective places. It's a scene of enormous power. It's quiet, small, and yet wracked with tension. The tension of a misfortune that penetrates the sleepy nature of a town that knows nothing of misfortune. The camera then jumps to Capote at a party, in celebration of the publishing of his novella Breakfast at Tiffany's. Later we see Capote read the news article that briefly covers the murder of the Clatter family in Kansas. Capote, sensing a goldmine of a story, goes to Kansas with friend Harper Lee (Catherine Keener) in an attempt to learn more of the tragedy. The Kansas Bureau of Investigation lead detective Alvin Dewey (Chris Cooper) is not keen in helping the forward and rather self-important Capote, but that changes when Capote meets with his wife (Amy Ryan) and Alvin warms up to Capote, thereby allowing him a further, more detailed investigation of the crimes. The rest of the film follows Capote meeting with Perry Smith, one of the murderers, in an attempt to understand the murders, and writing his book In Cold Blood. Smith is a man of great personal tragedy, a fact that Capote relates to and finds intriguing. Collins Jr. uncovers the sensitive and scarily attractive side to Smith, which the film nails as being the reasons for Capote's immediate attraction to him.
The supporting performances are all, for the most part, understated. Keener's performance shows integrity and intelligence, and yet is also remote and with little vitality. Perhaps it is just the woman she is portraying, but Keener fails to make an interesting character. Collins Jr. as stated before is nuanced and gets right to the heart of this volatile soul. The film, as brought up by the criminal's sister, seems to suggest that he may be more manipulative than he seems. Collins Jr. gives little indication, a choice that is perhaps more maddeningly effective than insipidly frustrating. Cooper is dependable as always, a role that he could practically sleep walk through.
The direction is polished and unaffected. Bennett Miller doesn't over exert his control, and thankfully allows the film to simply be. Capote is decidedly unfussy and to-the-point. It was rather refreshing to watch a director have enough confidence in his performers and his script that he doesn't feel the need to step into directorial overdrive.
The script is very good, factual and stinging in its pegging of the emotions behind such a story. Some of the dialogue was very good, including a quote along the lines of "It's as if we grew up in the same house but while he went out the back door, I went out the front", in Capote's explanation of his sympathizing with Smith. However, there are times the script drags, a little too quiet and straight forward. Capote's interactions with his lover (Bruce Greenwood) are going for realism and yet they feel unnecessary.
The cinematography is terrifically lonely, a feat that only heightens the tension of the film. Adam Kimmel drowns the film in melancholy, a choice that is effective. The long shots of trains passing, reeds swaying gently are coldly beautiful. They reflect the increasing isolation of Capote himself.
What does the film have to say about the nature of the crime and Truman Capote? Capote did try to humanize a crime that was inhumane and yet his treatment was never, could never be, as humane as warranted. Capote was never truly honest in how he approached the interviews with Perry, the way he covered the two men's stories. He watched the consequences of the crime be dealt with, and he was a mere member of the audience. He wrote a book detailing the crimes, but in the larger scheme, he did little to affect the outcome of these men's lives. The last shot, of Capote on a plane, finally, consequently isolated, we get the sense he has learned the price that a good story comes at.