Movie Review: Doubt

John Patrick Shanley’s “Doubt” presents us with two people, one driven by to do what she does by what she is, and the other moved to be what he is by what he does. But then, perhaps their actions are simply driven by their basic natures, and their choice of profession is incidental. I don’t really know for sure, I guess; the movie’s title is appropriate.

The first, and arguably most compelling, figure is Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep). She certainly is not the most likeable figure; as Principle, she rules over her Catholic church and school like a dictator. She is universally hated by the students, and the other nuns regard her with silence. When we are introduced to the church itself, it seems to have taken on her shade. It lacks the sunlight and glimmering artifacts of most film churches. It is not a gloomy place, it simply lacks the extra light.

The other figure is her superior, Father Flynn (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), is much the opposite. Jovial and outgoing, Father Flynn claims as his only mission the desire to help people. It is 1964, and the school has its first black student (Joseph Foster). Father Flynn reaches out to him, and Sister Beauvier interprets the gesture as a very different kind of reaching. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. “Doubt” is less about plot points and more about behaviors.
Sister Beauvier is the sort of person who depends on her convictions as the fuel that keeps her going. That Father Flynn has done something wrong is corroborated by no evidence and no witnesses. The only proof that the Sister has is her own conviction, which is unlikely to be born of righteousness. Father Flynn wishes to modernize their Church; included in these proposals are such radical measures as singing secular Christmas songs. The Sister has only her traditional view of the Church to keep her going. Streep plays her so precisely that she does not come across as the villain precisely because she is not motivated by anything she seems to recognize in herself. Her nature drives her, spurred on perhaps by the gradual dissolution of the world she knows and fits in. Father Flynn’s willingness to move forward, to her, is not a sign of strength; it is an expression of attack upon her world.

Serving mostly as an observer to these events is Sister James (Amy Adams). Whose version she believes I will not say. What is important to know is the importance of her role. It was important enough for Adams to receive equal billing with Streep and Hoffman, which is a lot for even really good actors to live up to. She is not innocent or very naïve, which is refreshing for such a role. She is simply a great believer in the fundamental goodness of mankind. You might argue that this is a foolish belief to have, but Adams embodies it well in Sister James; it does not seem to be forced on the story. Consider that she is not meant to be delivering a high-powered performance, and you realize how well she actually pulls off that very thing, but in a quieter, more understated way. She is as much Oscar Bait as the others.
That many of the questions in the film do not come full circle is appropriate to the story. The film observes characters who are acting in ways they either must act, or feel they must act. What precisely is in their pasts is not the idea the film wants to convey. What it wants to convey is precisely stated in the title, and it does the job as masterfully as any film I’ve seen. That there are questions which remain questions is a credit to the soul of the film, and Shanley’s faithfulness in reproducing this for a larger audience than the original play is the sort of thing I applaud in a film.

I also applaud the cinematography by Roger Deakins. Nearly the entire film takes place within the church and school grounds, building such a persuasive world out of ordinary locations that we never notice. When Father Flynn and Sister Beauvier do come to open conflict (in a scene whose dialogue I will have to study on DVD), it feels less like individual actions and more like the weight of their confinement finally driving them to speak their minds. The conversations between Flynn and Beauvier are weighted by the place, while those between Flynn and Sister James are labored but not held down by it. Conversations acted out sometimes feel imposed, but not these. They feel natural and free of the writer’s voice, and among other things, a great film is made out of them.