Okay though, seriously--this was good. It's a very strange movie in that it's very much like a play. (Monster spoiler: It was, originally, a play.) Nothing really happens. Instead, people talk about stuff happening. It's very slow and dreary. It's surprisingly short; considering the seriousness of the topic matter, clocking in at 100 minutes is impressively economical. And lastly, and most importantly, it's an acting tour de force.
This isn't a movie inasmuch as it is a semi-tired plot construct, some fluffy symbolism wedged in the middle, and two absolutely monstrous acting showcase scenes. Doubt Cliff's go as follows: Viciously strict Catholic school principal, Meryl Streep, is less than fond of the new priest, Philip Seymour Hoffman, so she enlists a young teacher, Amy Adams, to watch for anything that would cause her to be even less than less than fond of the priest. Result: The teacher uncovers a huge scandal. Kinda. Actually, not really.
Hoffman and Streep are just incredible. This movie is two scenes: Hoffman vs. Streep and Adams toward the middle and Hoffman vs. Streep at the finale. The closer is quite good, and features a totally demoralizing piece of ownage on the part of Sister Aloysius (Streep). She just rips Hoffman to shreds and forces his hand, when he is supposedly the effective superior. She never cedes the upper hand, even when the overwhelmingly (lack of) evidence is on his side.
However, it is the first scene that I had to watch again. And then again. It's simply amazing. The tension is palpable. I love basically everything about it. I love how Streep and Adams confront him under the guise of some bullshit about the Christmas festival. I love how eager Adams is to please both of them, depending on which way the wind is blowing at any particular time. I love how Streep saves the "evidence" of alcohol on the boy's breath for the end; she fucking waits him out and then sticks the knife in. I love the phone ringing amidst the heat of the battle--when have you ever cringed at a phone ringing?* I love Streep's dry wit, Adams' innocence, and Hoffman's sheer normality.
The scene, on its own, makes the entire film. It is the film. (For me, Viola Davis was nothing special; her Academy nod for Best Supporting Actress seems token at best. Streep demolished her head-to-head, and the only reason people may think otherwise is because Davis' character obviously has the moral high ground in the conversation.) Phillip Seymour Hoffman just doesn't. Have. Bad. Roles. He just doesn't. It's insane. And he's essentially at his very best here. His character is clearly not as clean-cut as he'd like others to think, but he's not a bad guy.
I think, that is. I still think Hoffman was innocent, but I'm not sure. I think the viewer isn't supposed to be sure. I hope that's intentional. Otherwise I just totally failed at watching this movie.
*Let's pretend Scream never existed.
