Capote

So I showed Capote at the Evans tonight. I knew essen­tial­ly noth­ing about the man before I watched the movie. Nor­mal­ly I have a hard time watch­ing a show where the main char­ac­ter is unsym­pa­thet­ic, but some­how this show was quite com­pelling. Philip Sey­mour Hoff­man did a fan­tas­tic job in his role as Tru­man Capote.
The film’s Capote was a self-serv­ing, loathe­some, manip­u­la­tive lit­tle bas­tard; I can’t speak to the real, flesh-and-blood ver­sion, because like I said, I knew basi­cal­ly squat about him going into the film. I sure hope that being a lit­tle turd isn’t a require­ment to be an author. I don’t think I could live with myself.

Also fas­ci­nat­ing is the fact that part of it was shot on loca­tion here in Man­i­to­ba. I was sur­prised to dis­cov­er that lit­tle fac­toid, but in hind­sight, I shouldn’t have been. After all, what’s flat­ter than Kansas (where about two-thirds of the movie took place)? That’s right: Man­i­to­ba.

On the whole, it didn’t suck. But I don’t know if I could watch it again. It’s not the grat­ing voice; I got used to that fair­ly ear­ly on. It’s the way Capote uses every­one and every­thing around him, and then denies doing it, even to him­self. There’s a scene, late in the film, where he breaks down and cries, but after every­thing that led up to that point, I had to won­der if they were real tears or if he was try­ing to get some­thing from some­one with them.