Doubt is a film in which intellectual thought is prized over cinematic satisfaction. Its origin as a stage play is evident – few characters, limited locations, brevity and lots of talking. While this sort of translation can often make for involving drama, in this case the adaptation for the screen feels like something of a neutered theoretical exercise.
Meryl Streep’s scenery chewing is certainly memorable, at a stark contrast to Philip Seymour Hoffman’s more gentle work, but to praise a film solely for its performances is worthless when the end product doesn’t convince. That’s not to say that Doubt isn’t without a sense of polished professionalism. It looks good, with cinematographer Roger Deakins favouring autumnal browns and blacks. The setting of the church and school is barren, devoid of comfort or personality – just as it should be. And the film never extends the story for longer than it can sustain, wrapping up with a surprisingly satisfying and memorable conclusion.
So, as a study of guilt, blame and finger pointing, Doubt stirs up a few interesting ideas. But this remains a rather broad cinematic rendering of a subtle thought-provoking concept, and as such is more likely to bore than intrigue. It should have remained on the stage.
