Originally a Pulitzer Prize-winning play by director John Patrick Shanley, Doubt, set in 1964, is a story of corruption and sin in a New York Catholic school. Or is it? The great strength of the plot is that no true facts are ever revealed, such that the audience must decide for themselves what happened and whom is good or evil. Academy Award Winner Meryl Streep heads an incredibly strong leading trio, alongside Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Amy Adams, all of whom provide stellar performances and who do a more-than-adequate job of carrying the quiet yet powerful script to produce an entirely credible movie adaptation of Shanley’s masterful tale.
Streep stars as school principal Sister Aloysius, a no-nonsense traditionalist who believes that her pupils must be held on a tight leash, for the good of their souls. Offering an entirely different scope on life is Hoffman, as the seemingly good-natured Father Brendan Flynn, a priest who believes that the church must move with the times and be friendlier towards the children in its care if it is to retain its appeal and longevity. Manifested in Flynn’s beliefs is his affectionate relationships with his pupils, in particular Donald Miller, an African-American boy who suffers abuse and harassment at the hands of his white peers. And it is this specific relationship that is at the core of Doubt. A relationship that balances precariously between the affectionate and the abusive, that invites, and indeed demands, audience interpretation, and that fuels the wrath of Sister Aloysius when it is brought to her attention that Father Flynn called Donald Miller to the rectory for a “private matter”. Trapped in the middle of all this is Adams as young nun Sister James, innocent and open to manipulation by both sides. Both respecting and fearing Aloysius, and initially sharing her suspicions of Father Flynn, Sister James soon begins to lose faith in the certainty of her superior’s gross accusations, as her relationship with the accused, and her understanding of his views and methods, strengthen and develop.
Doubt is undeniably a very quiet film. Shanley employs great use of silence, implementing very little non-diegetic music. Tension is built through the silence, which is broken only by the script's brilliantly sharp dialogue, delivered superbly by the film’s universally outstanding cast. And it is the performances that make Doubt a truly impressive film, with the lead actors proving themselves entirely worthy of recognition. One of the most powerful scenes revolves around the discussion between Sister Aloysius and Donald Miller’s mother (Viola Davis). And, fantastic as the leading cast are, it may well be Davis who provides the film’s most astonishing and effective performance as a world-weary mother, desperately devoted to her son, whom she hopes will have a bright future if only he could graduate the school, but whose fate ultimately lies beyond her control and at the hands of Streep’s formidable Principal. Upon hearing Aloysius’s theory that Father Flynn has her son gripped in an indecent relationship, Davis, desperately wanting Donald to remain in the school so that he may graduate, replies, “let him have him then.” Tragic and unflinching, not to mention shocking in the extreme, this line epitomises the controversy and ambiguity that exists within Shanley’s immensely powerful story. A story that presents the devastating consequences of accusation without evidence and that openly challenges and questions the very nature of faith, certainty and of course, Doubt. 8.5/10
Streep stars as school principal Sister Aloysius, a no-nonsense traditionalist who believes that her pupils must be held on a tight leash, for the good of their souls. Offering an entirely different scope on life is Hoffman, as the seemingly good-natured Father Brendan Flynn, a priest who believes that the church must move with the times and be friendlier towards the children in its care if it is to retain its appeal and longevity. Manifested in Flynn’s beliefs is his affectionate relationships with his pupils, in particular Donald Miller, an African-American boy who suffers abuse and harassment at the hands of his white peers. And it is this specific relationship that is at the core of Doubt. A relationship that balances precariously between the affectionate and the abusive, that invites, and indeed demands, audience interpretation, and that fuels the wrath of Sister Aloysius when it is brought to her attention that Father Flynn called Donald Miller to the rectory for a “private matter”. Trapped in the middle of all this is Adams as young nun Sister James, innocent and open to manipulation by both sides. Both respecting and fearing Aloysius, and initially sharing her suspicions of Father Flynn, Sister James soon begins to lose faith in the certainty of her superior’s gross accusations, as her relationship with the accused, and her understanding of his views and methods, strengthen and develop.
Doubt is undeniably a very quiet film. Shanley employs great use of silence, implementing very little non-diegetic music. Tension is built through the silence, which is broken only by the script's brilliantly sharp dialogue, delivered superbly by the film’s universally outstanding cast. And it is the performances that make Doubt a truly impressive film, with the lead actors proving themselves entirely worthy of recognition. One of the most powerful scenes revolves around the discussion between Sister Aloysius and Donald Miller’s mother (Viola Davis). And, fantastic as the leading cast are, it may well be Davis who provides the film’s most astonishing and effective performance as a world-weary mother, desperately devoted to her son, whom she hopes will have a bright future if only he could graduate the school, but whose fate ultimately lies beyond her control and at the hands of Streep’s formidable Principal. Upon hearing Aloysius’s theory that Father Flynn has her son gripped in an indecent relationship, Davis, desperately wanting Donald to remain in the school so that he may graduate, replies, “let him have him then.” Tragic and unflinching, not to mention shocking in the extreme, this line epitomises the controversy and ambiguity that exists within Shanley’s immensely powerful story. A story that presents the devastating consequences of accusation without evidence and that openly challenges and questions the very nature of faith, certainty and of course, Doubt. 8.5/10
