Doubt — ***
Frost/Nixon — ***1/2
The differences between Doubt, an adaptation of John Patrick Shanley’s stage play directed by the playwright, and Frost/Nixon, an adaptation of Peter Morgan’s play directed by Hollywood filmmaker Ron Howard, reveal two approaches to theatrical adaptations. Doubt looks like a stage production forced to be a movie, while Frost/Nixon is a cinematic production of a popular play.
Both Doubt and Frost/Nixon are good films, but Frost/Nixon borders on greatness because, despite being more cinematic, I’m never aware that I’m watching a movie.
Doubt, with distracting oblique camera angles and calculated, theatrical dialogue, makes it hard to engage the story at its most basic level. And it’s a story that should be engaging. Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) accuses Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) of sexual abuse based on novice Sister James’ (Amy Adams) reports. “So, it’s happened,” says Sister Aloysius when she’s first told of Flynn calling an altar boy to the rectory, as if she was waiting for this her entire career.
Streep’s performance doesn’t feel true to the story, especially in the film’s final moments. She creates a character that is marvelous to watch, but being of the YouTube generation, her most severe moments would be more entertaining strung together in a video montage, out of the context of the film.
Does that mean the film isn’t well acted? I wouldn’t go that far. Streep and Hoffman have an emotional exchange late in the film where Streep’s Aloysius tells Hoffman’s Flynn that she will not relent and Hoffman begins to realize exactly what he is up against. Adams and Hoffman have a more delicate interaction in the church’s garden earlier in the film where he lays out Father Flynn’s case to Sister James. Adams, whose innocent exterior is so often confronted by an internalized awareness, is perfectly cast as Sister James, the nun in the middle.
But Viola Davis, playing the mother of the altar boy, gives the film’s most devastating performance. As she explains why pursuing the charges would destroy her child to Sister Aloysius, we see the film’s truest moments. In these exchanges, we are invited into the movie through some of the best screen acting this year. But it’s Shanley’s overly cinematic direction and, I never thought I would say this, Roger Deakins distracting cinematography, that violently pull you out of the film.
I never enjoyed the slow burn of Doubt because of its little distractions, whereas Frost/Nixon, a film equally heavy on great acting, demands your attention. Peter Morgan, who wrote both the stage play and the screenplay, has an enviable awareness of both mediums. And Ron Howard, who is a sentimental filmmaker, adds his own touch of humanity to Morgan’s work. When Howard gets his teeth into something with a little bit of intellectual heft, he makes great films. Frost/Nixon is as close as he’s come to greatness since A Beautiful Mind.
I’ve never seen Frost/Nixon on stage (or Doubt for that matter), but I have a feeling Howard was able to amplify Frost’s troubles beyond what is called for in the theatrical production. Michael Sheen as British talk-show host David Frost, who originated the role on the London stage, is thrilling to watch as he realizes just how much he has on the line. When Richard Nixon (Frank Langella) agrees to the Frost interview, the first since his resignation, he expects a soft-ball approach. Frost meets those expectations until the playboy/showman finally understands that he is doing something of greater importance than just another celebrity interview.
Frost/Nixon progresses like a boxing match, with the competitors retreating to the corners and getting advice from their trainers. It’s Nixon who finally and unexpectedly throws in the towel.
Like Sheen’s Frost, Langella’s Nixon is amazing to watch. (Langella also played Nixon in the original stage production.) He’s guarded and tricky, borders on mad, not unlike Anthony Hopkins in Oliver Stone’s Nixon. But it’s the moment Nixon makes the decision to admit his guilt when Langella gets the chance to expose Nixon, the man. We may not see his soul, but at least we experience his conscience.
Those final moments in Frost/Nixon seem much less stagy than those in Doubt. Both films, however, make me wonder if contemporary theatrical adaptations can even become great movies. Neither achieves the greatness of a film like Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? or a Tennessee Williams adaptation from the 1950s. Just look at other recent stage-to-screen productions like Rent, The Producers, or Proof. Something is lost in the adaptation.
Though I have faith Frost/Nixon will get better with subsequent viewings, I still have doubts about Doubt. I guess that says something about both films. Frost/Nixon makes me want to see it again. It’s solid entertainment. Doubt isn’t.
I posted this last year because we all have to remember the real reason for Oscar: the Oscar bounce.
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