This morning I saw Spotlight, starring Mark Ruffalo and Michael Keaton.
When Marty Baron (Liev Schreiber) arrived at The Boston Globe, he thought it could do better. He urged his "Spotlight" team of investigative reporters to pursue a story about a priest accused of multiple counts of sexual abuse. They were hesitant because of their relationship with the church and the fact that the majority of their readership was Catholic. He told them to do it anyway.
Reporter Mike Rezendes (Ruffalo) enthusiastically accepted the challenge. He visits the lawyer that represents several of the church's victims and quickly realizes that they're only scratching the surface. His boss, Robby (Keaton), is supportive, but cautious.
As the investigation continues, they are met with several roadblocks: the interference of the church; the lack of cooperation from a key lawyer; records that are sealed. They work day in and day out to overcome these obstacles, getting to a place where they're almost ready to reveal their findings and then 9/11 happens. The exposé has to be put on hold.
Of course, those who remember the headlines in early 2002 know that they did in fact get to tell their story, and it did instigate a shake-up in the Catholic church.
Though I remember the articles and knew the ending before going in, I was glued to my seat for the duration of the film, riveted by every scene. Like the legendary All the President's Men, following the footsteps of the reporters in what feels like real time really gets the blood pumping. With each new fact they reveal, you wonder what will come next and who or what will stand in their way from sharing it.
The acting is superb—especially Ruffalo, who is so believable as a quirky East Boston journalist, it's hard to remember he was ever The Hulk.
I'll be stunned if this isn't an Oscar favorite come awards season.
~~~
Showing posts with label molestation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label molestation. Show all posts
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Monday, December 29, 2008
Doubt
Yesterday I saw Doubt, starring Meryl Streep and Phillip Seymour Hoffman.
It's a drama (with a hint of comedy) about a Catholic school in the Bronx, in 1964. Sister Aloysius (Streep) is the stereotypical "mean nun" who administers wicked punishments to the children and is quick to judge her colleagues. Father Flynn (Hoffman) is a kind, warm-spirited priest who pays special attention to Donald (Joseph Foster), who is the first black student admitted to the school.
After witnessing a few normal situations at the school (kids misbehaving in class, nuns breaking bread together in silence, etc.), the writer wastes no time in letting us know that suspicion looms over Father Flynn regarding his relationship with Donald.
Amy Adams, in a role tailor made for her expertise in playing innocence, is Sister James, a naive teacher who notices a behavioral change in Donald after he returns from a private visit with the father. She soon tells Sister Aloysius, who is immediately anxious to expose and expunge the certainly guilty priest.
From there the movie places its title into your reactions as an audience member. Is this miserable woman just making life difficult for a man because he is a man? Is this kind-hearted priest who has a natural rapport with his congregation and students capable of such unspeakable harm? Is Sister James too inexperienced to correctly read the signs of abuse in one of her students?
All of the doubts they weave into your mind will have you taking sides with yourself, or perhaps the person sitting next to you. But they won't definitely answer the questions, which is what makes the film good.
What also makes the film good are the performances. It's not shocking that Streep's accent is dead-on 60s New Yorker, and it's no surprise that Hoffman can be equally endearing and creepy, but the unexpected thrill is seeing the two battle it out on screen as if they were performing live theater. It's hard to take your eyes off of them.
Also great are supporting players Amy Adams as the sugar-sweet Sister James, and Viola Davis as the pained mother of young Donald. Both infuse their characters with mannerisms, expressions and speech patterns that perfectly illustrate their plight.
What makes the film bad is the ending. It betrays one of the characters they've crafted so brilliantly and makes no sense in the context of the resolution.
Shame it had to end that way.
```
It's a drama (with a hint of comedy) about a Catholic school in the Bronx, in 1964. Sister Aloysius (Streep) is the stereotypical "mean nun" who administers wicked punishments to the children and is quick to judge her colleagues. Father Flynn (Hoffman) is a kind, warm-spirited priest who pays special attention to Donald (Joseph Foster), who is the first black student admitted to the school.
After witnessing a few normal situations at the school (kids misbehaving in class, nuns breaking bread together in silence, etc.), the writer wastes no time in letting us know that suspicion looms over Father Flynn regarding his relationship with Donald.
Amy Adams, in a role tailor made for her expertise in playing innocence, is Sister James, a naive teacher who notices a behavioral change in Donald after he returns from a private visit with the father. She soon tells Sister Aloysius, who is immediately anxious to expose and expunge the certainly guilty priest.
From there the movie places its title into your reactions as an audience member. Is this miserable woman just making life difficult for a man because he is a man? Is this kind-hearted priest who has a natural rapport with his congregation and students capable of such unspeakable harm? Is Sister James too inexperienced to correctly read the signs of abuse in one of her students?
All of the doubts they weave into your mind will have you taking sides with yourself, or perhaps the person sitting next to you. But they won't definitely answer the questions, which is what makes the film good.
What also makes the film good are the performances. It's not shocking that Streep's accent is dead-on 60s New Yorker, and it's no surprise that Hoffman can be equally endearing and creepy, but the unexpected thrill is seeing the two battle it out on screen as if they were performing live theater. It's hard to take your eyes off of them.
Also great are supporting players Amy Adams as the sugar-sweet Sister James, and Viola Davis as the pained mother of young Donald. Both infuse their characters with mannerisms, expressions and speech patterns that perfectly illustrate their plight.
What makes the film bad is the ending. It betrays one of the characters they've crafted so brilliantly and makes no sense in the context of the resolution.
Shame it had to end that way.
```
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)