OK, I admit it. As much as I worship the ground that Meryl Streep walks on (and I have watched 95% of her cinematic oeuvre, even the abysmal She-Devilwith, eeek, Roseanne), I was perturbed that she took the role of Sister Aloysius in the film version of one of the most brilliant contemporary American plays, John Patrick Shanley’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Doubt. Because having seen Cherry Jones, who originated the role and won a Tony for it, twice, on Broadway, and with the touring version here in Chicago, the second time as electrifying and devastating as the first, I cannot imagine anyone, even the world’s great living actress, making this maddeningly complex role their own. So, let’s get it out of the way then – Meryl Streep, in my opinion, although excellent in the film version, certainly does not. And she doesn’t erase for one bit from this audience member’s memory the legendary, breathtaking, indisputably definitive portrayal that Ms. Jones created onstage. What La Streep does though, other than create a totally riveting, multi-faceted, meticulously constructed characterization, is act as a strong cornerstone for a dynamic, potent, game-on acting ensemble. In the stage production, because Cherry Jones’s performance was so dominant, you’d hardly notice it if either a battleship or even a streaker came on stage. In the film version, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, and especially Viola Davis, go toe-to-toe, nostril-to-nostril, emotional volcano-to-emotional volcano with Streep. And seeing this quartet of exceptional performances makes the movie version of Doubt ultimately very satisfying.
Doubt, the play, was a compact, energetic, completely mesmerizing, ninety-minute intellectual discussion on the conflict between old and new, tradition and change, certainty and ambiguity, the absoluteness, or not, of a moral order, played out against the backdrop of a Catholic church-run elementary school in the Bronx during the early 1960s. Here, the stern, immoveable school principal accuses a young priest of molesting a 12 year old boy, the school’s only African-American student. But did he? Doubt, the film, basically preserves this intelligently-written, carefully-shaded theatrical conversation, opens it up here and there by setting some scenes outdoors or in the nuns’ residence, but continues to focus the audience on the text. It’s refreshing to see a play preserve its intellectual integrity when made into a movie, and avoid Hollywood cliches and dumbdowns, but I think it’s primarily because Shanley adapted and directed his own work. I don’t think he directs better than he writes- the direction of the film is pretty conventional and unobtrusive- but that’s ok, since it’s the words and ideas that count.
However superior the source material is, though, if you don’t have the right cast to work it, then the film is dead on arrival. Doubt has without, ok, I’m going to say it, a doubt, the most powerful ensemble on view among this season’s Oscar-bait movies. Streep is very, very good, and is safely on the way to a 15th Oscar nomination (she continues to hold the world record for acting nominations). Her Sister Aloysius is magnificently etched – convinced in her righteousness, rigid in her perspectives, and shattering in her judgement. But she can also be momentarily emotional and uncertain, as Streep brilliantly and subtly demonstrates in her confrontation scene with Viola Davis as the boy’s mother. In the stage production, the final scene when Sister Aloysius breaks down and admits her doubts (of the priest, of change, of life) is shocking and devastating, because Cherry Jones’s performance had been so controlled, determined, and unwavering. Streep’s final scene isn’t as astounding since she’s built up the character’s little uncertainties all along. It’s a different interpretation which still works.
The other three points of the acting rectangle are at the level of Streep’s game. Philip Seymour Hoffman never gives a bad performance, or a one-note one, but I would say this is his most shaded. After seeing the Broadway production, I was convinced of Father Flynn’s innocence, because Bryan F. O’Byrne, who played him, was soft, noble, dignified, and came off as genuinely caring. Hoffman’s portrayal, on the other hand, is a little bit more ambiguous: he is warm and empathetic, but he also comes off a little too slick, a little bit hypocritical and smug, so you’re almost, but not quite, ready to believe that he is capable of taking advantage of an adolescent’s vulnerability and insecurity. It’s terrific. I know Amy Adams can blow anyone out of the water. (Exhibit A: the cast of Junebug. Exhibit B: the animated animals of Enchanted.) In Doubt, she gives a mature, wonderfully fleshed-out performance as Sister James, the naive, young nun whose suspicions trigger Sister Aloysius’s witch-hunt. She effectively balances innocence and gullibility with a strong-willed nature that isn’t immediately apparent. But it’s Viola Davis as the boy’s mother, in a scene that lasts no more than 15 minutes, who provides the anchoring performance. It’s stunningly realized: she is tragic, but not pathetic, as strong-willed and determined as Sister Aloysius in moving her own agenda forward. In unforgivingly raw close-up, Davis vividly and heartbreakingly depicts the complicated emotional state of a mother who wants a better life for her son, a life with advantages and opportunities that she can never have.
Doubt is now playing in Chicagoland theaters. Check local listings.
Tags: Doubt, Meryl Streep
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