Review of Infamous (2006) by Neal O — 09 Jun 2007

The trouble with two movies about the same subject is that it is almost impossible not to compare them. In this case, the subject matter is identical, the writing of Truman Capote's non-fiction novel "In Cold Blood," and Douglas McGrath's "Infamous" comes up short against Bennett Miller's Oscar-winning "Capote." The main culprit of this is McGrath himself, who frequently presents a somewhat untidy picture with an unnecessarily roving camera, where Miller kept it still, using wide and rich compositions in which to place his characters. Jaunty music also pervades "Infamous," frequently grating against the serious subject matter.

This sense of misbehaviour is also reflected in Toby Jones' performance as the camp and effeminate Capote. While Phillip Seymour Hoffman presented Capote's mannerisms as part of a coherent whole, Jones seems twitchy and deliberately affected. Put bluntly, Jones looks like he's acting, and much of the supporting cast fail to imbue their characters beyond the perfunctory. Sandra Bullock is one note as Harper Lee, as is Jeff Daniels as the curmudgeonly detective Alvin Dewey, while Sigourney Weaver and Gwyneth Paltrow crop up so briefly that you wonder why they agreed to the film. As convicted killer Perry Smith, Daniel Craig delivers a more effective turn, conveying Smith's bitterness and yearning for a better life.

Again however, McGrath fumbles where Miller excelled, presenting Capote and Smith as having a physical relationship rather than the careful and restrained emotional connection conveyed in the earlier film. It may appear daring to show these two men kissing on screen, but it comes across as garish and obvious. McGrath also meddles with the film's chronology, presenting a series of talking heads discussing Capote's life while flashing back to the events of the writer's act. This quickly becomes jarring and robs the film of a sense of progression or development.

In the final act, McGrath finally gets his focus right and expresses Capote's downward spiral as his twin passions for his book and his lover combine to degrade him. But after a messy and discordant film, with unconvincing characterisation and an uneven structure, it's too little, too late.

SUMMARY.

The subject matter may have warranted two films, but McGrath shows how to botch such promising material, with a film that is unsure of its tone, unbalanced in its delivery and ultimately unsatisfying in its depiction of a tortured artist. Stick to "Capote," it's simply better.