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review: Too often with "biopics" the effort of trying to cram an entire interesting life into 2 hours leaves the resulting films feeling both overstuffed and inadequate. This film sidesteps that pitfall by focusing on a particular pivotal period of its subject's life. It follows author Truman Capote (Hoffman) through the creation of his groundbreaking and best-selling "non-fiction novel" In Cold Blood, the factual recounting of the 1959 murder of a farming family in rural Kansas and the subsequent pursuit, capture, trial, and eventual execution of the killers, Richard Hickock and Perry Smith. Capote travelled to Kansas with his research assistant Nelle, soon to be much better known as Harper Lee (Keener), to interview the townspeople, the policemen, and (once they were captured) the killers.
Early scenes in the film contrast the sparse quiet of the Kansas countryside with the boisterous density of Capote's New York City (particularly a party scene which, possibly deliberately, recalls the classic party scene in the film version of Capote's own Breakfast at Tiffany's). The film goes on to depict the culture-clash of the cosmopolitan, intellectual, and super-effete Capote in the reddest heart of what we now call the "red states." In a telling early moment, on his second day in Kansas, Capote dons all black, seemingly out of respect for the deceased, but then does a flippant little catwalk twirl for Lee. He skates by on his fame and is embraced by people excited to have a celebrity in their small town, which he eats up with a spoon. When Smith and Hickock are captured and the more-dramatic and better-known story of the killers intersects with Capote's own story, the film feels a bit like Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead to the Hamlet of In Cold Blood.
The latter part of the film focuses primarily on Capote's relationship with Smith. The legend is, rather famously, that Capote fell in love with Smith, but of course in real life Capote would never have revealed that, and Capote in the film plays it close to the vest as well, describing it, when pressed, as empathic rather than romantic, feeling that Smith's life is something of a parallel-universe divergence of his own life. At the same time, Capote deceives and manipulates Smith to get the material he needs for his book (leading to some shocking flashback scenes when Smith finally describes the murders to Capote). The driving tension of this part of the film is, did Capote really care for Smith, or was he just using him? According to the film, the answer is a little from Column A and a little from Column B.
Philip Seymour Hoffman was already one of our favorite actors, and here he's just incredible, playing completely against type, not so much doing an impersonation of Capote, but really embodying "Capote" as a character, in his flamboyant public persona certainly, but even more so in his quieter, thoughtful moments. Best Actor nomination, hands down, and I also wouldn't be surprised to see a Best Supporting Actor nomination for the previously-obscure Clifton Collins Jr., totally believable as the complex killer Smith. Catherine Keener unfortunately doesn't get a whole lot to do as Harper Lee other than be yin to Capote's yang, but she does it so well anyway. The supporting performances are uniformly great, from Chris Cooper as the lead investigator to Mark Pellegrino as Hickock to Bruce Greenwood as Capote's boyfriend Jack. And it's always great to see Bob Balaban. (Plus, watch for a blink-and-you-miss-it appearance from author David Rakoff.)
First-time screenwriter Dan Futterman delivers some really rich and memorable dialogue (and, as an actor, played one of the 3 leads in one of copacetic's favorite movies, 1997's Shooting Fish!). The film is beautifully shot, and the production design is, for the most part, excellent—we found ourselves drooling over the midcentury interiors more than once. However, one seemingly minor detail throughout the film turned out to be a major distraction for me. I'll put it in spoiler text, since if you don't notice it then it won't bother you, but (highlight to read) the reflections in Capote's glasses clearly have the telltale purplish hue of anti-glare coating, which certainly didn't exist in the mid-20th century. Truman might as well have white iPod earbuds in his ears during those scenes. Doh!
The final irony of the story is that, after providing legal and moral support to Smith and Hickock through years of court wrangling, Capote rather cold-bloodedly (cough) turns his back on them because he needs them to die so that he can end his book. You see his conscience tearing at him as he descends into booze (a foreshadowing of the remainder of the real Capote's life), but in the end, with the killers' executions, the two men's parallel lives have converged at a point where they are both monsters: Smith, the damaged soul who exploded into terrible violence, and Capote, the brilliant but vain author who self-servingly wished for his own friend's death. (mike.11.05)
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