The Benefits of Doubt

One of the many remarkable things about John Patrick Shanley's Doubt is its ability to capture on film that unmistakable pall of melancholy that hangs over Catholic churches and schools. Adding to this somberness are the denizens of the Bronx circa 1964, sporting dull shades of black, gray, brown and white. In fact the first streak of colored garment you notice is the gold rim on Father Flynn (Phillip Seymour Hoffman)'s cassock. This befitting introduction instantly marks him out as being of a somewhat different feather than his flock, igniting in us the mistrust that he will go on to ignite in his antagonist, Sister Beauvier (Meryl Streep). She too is similarly introduced: Towering over her lot, atop a flight of stairs, Sister Beauvier reprimands William London, the most evidently pubescent of the boys, for addressing a timid Sister James (Amy Adams) by gently patting her on the arm. "She's thirsty for blood", Father Flynn quips to Sister James. This little exchange at once maps out the strict boundaries defining Catholic institutions of the day, points to the politics among the characters, and hints at Sister B's hyper-sensitivity to sex - all important motifs in the film.

Between the two nuns and the priest, the skillfully etched out characters span the continuum from free-spiritedness to orthodoxy. Father Flynn is all jokes and bonhomie, a perfect counterfoil not just to Sister Beauvier but also to the weighty seriousness of his institution. A couple of odd incidents cause Sister James to suspect that Father Flynn's fondness for Donald Miller, the only black boy in the school, may be more than avuncular. Her expression of this doubt to Sister Beauvier is enough to convince the latter of the priest's sin. As if to tease us into judgment, there are suggestions that somewhat strengthen Beauvier's point of view, but upon closer examination they merely expose us to our own biases – especially in light of the brilliantly written exchange between Sister Beauvier and Donald’s mother (Viola Davis in a heart-wrenching cameo).
While Philip Seymour Hoffman and Meryl Streep could never be anything but super, to my mind the performance to watch out for is that of Amy Adams. It’s as though her tentative, virginal and torn Sister James were living the did-he-or-didn't-he dilemma, precariously straddling the opposing certitudes of Flynn and Beauvier.

Writers, like their readers, are often tempted to tie up all their loose ends but John Patrick Shanley does well to respect and engage his viewer's intelligence by not spelling out a verdict.
His use of everyday incidents - someone barging into a room in the midst of a delicate conversation, or a jarring telephone ring - is very effective in heightening the tension. Equally effective are those picturesquely shot, notorious New York seasons. There is one thunderstorm too many, though, unnecessarily emphasizing the tempest within the church. The thunder soundtrack in the background during the showdown between Flynn and Beauvier seems particularly out of place in a film that only alludes and never tells, its very title alluding to the blurry lines between doubt and faith. Mercifully, Shanley doesn’t give us any confrontational high-drama during Flynn’s goodbyes, leaving it to our imaginations.

Sister B's final confessional breakdown, too, merely hints at the real doubts she harbors (via a subtle close-up of her fingers clutching her cross), turning her steely certitude inside out to reveal a vulnerable, tormented soul. And that’s the irony of it all: Father Flynn, the open-minded priest who nearly embraces doubt in a sermon, surely harbors no doubts about his actions; while the seemingly conservative Beauvier, it turns out, has been plagued by that greatest of all doubts. In strange soils, indeed, these seeds of doubt do grow.

(First published at Desicritics)