It’s a Hoffman show, and it almost made me believe that they dive in deep just to see more of him as this infamous writer.
Miller capes the authenticity of 40s filmmaking. It is informative, yes. Definitely, inspiring. But what has evolved since then in filmmaking is to crowd the film with surprising visits with buffed up but toned content whose priority is to keep the viewers engaging. Swooping in every trick, somehow, Bennett Miller, the director, lost the grasp of the final ingredient that balances the fictional or like here real word. If the world is practically stashed around formal dull government papers, then our host is frankly bedazzling us with his tricks. The profile is scintillating. To a degree that it blurs out the background world that it resides in. Is it the character or the actor?
I am going to lean towards Philip Seymour Hoffman. Not that Truman Capote himself isn’t intriguing but if played by someone else maybe he’d have come across a bit reserved and mellow in his language. But not Hoffman. No, sir. He comes from the exotic tales of P.T. Anderson. And also, personally, I have always felt like Hoffman is kind of a bragger. He loves to flaunt his skills. No matter how poised or formal, he is. He enters the frame and you are drawn to him. It is almost like he is dancing, with a straight face and not-so-steady eyes.
The caliber of the cast is impeccable, from Katherine Keener to Chris Cooper and as much as supportive they are, there is barely any place for them to be in charge. I was drawn to almost-like-trash talks occurring in the cell not by screaming but whispering, Hoffman and Clifton Collins Jr. resists an intense war in that cell. But above all, what’s captivating is the stillness in that cell, steady and calm was their nature, discussing pivotal points of their life, fighting over the title, he loses, Capote does.