Scotticus's Netflix Reviews: Doubt

[SPOILER ALERT]

Doubt, starring Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman and written by John Patrick Shanley (Moonstruck, Alive), is compelling, powerful, and yet frustratingly obtuse. Set in a Bronx Catholic school in 1964, Doubt centers on a priest (Hoffman) suspected of molesting a child and the nun (Streep) obsessed with stopping him. Despite an occasionally ham-handed (more on that later) use of symbols, the script fiercely dichotomizes the hero and the villain without ever revealing which is which, and the result is a graceful lesson in the power of perception.

Hoffman and Streep – quite possibly the two most talented actors working today – earn their SAG wages plus tips; never mind Streep’s recent insistence on “doing voices”. Hoffman’s Father Flynn gives off a deliberate glow of limp moonbat progressivism balanced by a charming earnestness and unexpected spine, while Streep’s Sister Beauvier is a comically antique humbug resigned to a changing world – except when it comes to her students. Shanley, who also directed, brings the clues in a giant box marked “clues”: Flynn likes the shades drawn! The bully crushed a student’s favorite toy! The wind is blowing like never before! But soon the obviousness of the message becomes an extremely effective scaffold for a verdict that is never rendered. Shanley’s script compels us, through a barrage of blunt-fisted symbols, to feel as certain in our hearts as the characters do about guilt and innocence, then strategically reminds us of two things: that there is no proof, and that the human consequences of either reality – a predator among the boys, or a good man’s name destroyed – could be monstrous.

As the credits rolled, Doubt was disappointing. Forty-eight hours later, a spinning mind proves it delivered on its namesake promise.